WORKS BY JAMES SULLY. OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY. New edition, re- vised and largely rewritten. I2mo. Cloth, $2.50. TEACHER'S HANDBOOK OF PSYCHOLOGY. On the Basis of " Outlines of Psychology." Abridged by the author for the use of Teachers, Schools, Reading- Circles, and Students generally. I2mo. 445 pages. Cloth, $1.50. ILLUSIONS: A Psychological Study. i2mo. 372 pages. Cloth, $1.50. PESSIMISM : A History and a Criticism. Second edition. 8vo. 470 pages and Index. Cloth, $4.00. THE HUMAN MIND. A Text-Book of Psychology. 8vo. 2 vols. Cloth, $5.00. New York: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, Publishers. TEACHER'S HAND-BOOK OF PSYC HOLOGY ON THE BASIS OF THE "OUTLINES OF PSYCHOLOGY" BY JAMES SULLY, M. A., LL. D. THIRD EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 72 FIFTH AVHNUE I8 95 COPYRIGHT, 1886, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. THE present volume is based on the writer's larger work, " The Outlines of Psychology." By considerably reducing and simplifying the state- ment of scientific principles there presented, and expanding the practical applications to the art of Education, he hopes he may have succeeded in satisfying an increasingly felt want among teachers, viz., of an exposition of the elements of Mental Science in their bearing on the work of train- ing and developing the minds of the young. HAMPSTEAD, March, 1886. AMERICAN NOTE. IT is proper to say that the author of this book is paid a copyright by contract on all its sales ; and that the larger work, the " Outlines of Psychology," was published under the same con- ditions. Mr. Sully also contributed a volume, several years ago, on " Illusions," to the International Scientific Series, an enterprise originating in our establishment for the advantage of foreign authors, who are paid at the same rates that are customary with American authors. D. APPLETON & CO. NEW YORK, April 21, 1886. 22O9819 PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. IN the present edition the writer has added an Appendix on " Method in Teaching-," and a num- ber of Notes. He trusts that the common and reasonable objection to a multitude of Notes may in this case be counteracted to some extent by their special character ; for they are added in the hope that (unlike some Notes) they may enliven and not deaden the text. HAMPSTEAD, December, 1889. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. Art and Science Art and Science of Education 4 Divisions of Educational Science 8 Psychology and Education 10 CHAPTER II. SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. Scientific Conception of Mind 13 Mind and Body 14 The Subjective Method . . . 15 The Objective Method 15 Both Methods must be combined 16 Observation of Children's Minds 17 General Knowledge of Mind 19 CHAPTER III. MIND AND BODY. Connection between Mind and Body 21 The Nervous System 22 The Special Organs of Mind 25 Nature of Nervous Action 26 Mental Activity and Brain Efficiency 27 Brain-Activity and Brain-Fatigue 28 Effects of Brain-Activity on the Organism . . ... 29 Overtaxing the Brain . . 29 Remission and Variation of Brain-Exercise 31 Differences of Brain-Power 32 Vi CONTENTS, CHAPTER IV. KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. PAGE Mental Phenomena and Operations 34 Classification of Menral Operations 34 Feeling, Knowing, and Willing 35 Opposition between Knowing, Feeling, and Willing .... 36 Connection between Knowing, Feeling, and Willing .... 36 Species of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing : Mental Faculties . . 38 Primary Intellectual Functions 38 Individual Differences of Mental Capability 39 Truths or Laws of Mind 40 General Conditions of Mental Activity 41 Conditions of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing 41 Importance of understanding the Conditions of Mental Activity . . 42 CHAPTER V. MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. Mental Development defined 45 Growth of Faculty 47 Order of Development of Faculties 47 Unity of Intellectual Development 48 Growth and Exercise of Faculty . . .49 Growth and Retentiveness 50 Growth and Habit 50 Grouping of Parts : Laws of Association 51 Development of Feeling and Willing 52 Interdependence of Processes 52 Growth and Development of the Brain 53 Factors in Development 54 (A) Internal Factor 54 (B) External Factor, (i) Natural Environment .... 55 (2) The Social Environment 55 Undesigned and Designed Influence of Society 56 Scheme of Development 57 Varieties of Development . . 57 Differences of Original Capacity . 58 The Law of Heredity " 59 Common and Special Heredity 59 Varieties of External Influence 60 The Teacher and the Social Environment 62 Training of the Faculties 63 CONTENTS. Vii CHAPTER VI. ATTENTION. PAGE Place of Attention in Mind 66 Definition of Attention 66 Directions of Attention 67 Effects of Attention 63 Physiology of Attention 68 Extent of Attention 69 On what the Degree of Attention depends 70 External and Internal Stimuli 70 Non- Voluntary and Voluntary Attention 70 Reflex Attention 71 Law of Contrast and Novelty 71 Interest 72 Familiarity and Interest 73 Transition to Voluntary Attention 74 Function of the Will in Attention 74 Growth of At.ention : Early Stage 76 Development of Power of controlling the Attention .... 76 Attention to the Unimpressive 77 Resistance to Stimuli 78 Keeping the Attention fixed 78 Concentration 79 Concentration and Intellectual Power 79 Grasp of Attention 80 Habits of Attention 81 Varieties of Attentive Power 81 Training of the Attention 82 CHAPTER VII. THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. Definition of Sensation 86 General and Special Sensibility 87 Characters of Sensations 88 The Five Senses 89 Taste and Smell 89 Touch .... 89 Active Touch 92 Muscular Sense 93 Hearing 95 Sight 97 Attention to Sense-Impressions 99 Discrimination of Sensation 99 Identification of Sense-Impressions 99 viii CONTENTS. PAGB* Growth of Sense-Capacity 100 Improvement of Sense-Discrimination ....... 100 Differences of Sense-Capacity 101 The Training of the Senses 102 Method of Training 103 Training of the Several Senses 105 CHAPTER VIII. THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. Definition of Perception 108 How Percepts are reached 108 Special Channels of Perception no Perceptions of Touch in Visual Perception 113 Perception of Form by the Eye 113 Perception of Distance and Solidity 114 Intuition of Things 116 Perception of our own Body 117 Observation 118 Distinct and Accurate Observation 119 Development of Perceptual Power . . ... . . .in Training of the Observing Powers 124 Exercise in observing Form 125 The Object-Lesson 127 CHAPTER IX. MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. Retention and Reproduction 131 Reproduction and Representation 132 Conditions of Reproduction 133 (A) Depth of Impression : Attention and Retention . . . 134 Repetition and Retention .... . 135 (B) Association of Impression 137 Different Kinds of Association 138 (I/ Association by Contiguity 138 Strength of Associative Cohesion 140 On what Suggestive Force depends 140 Trains of Images 142 Verbal Associations , 143 (III Association by Similarity 144 (III) Association by Contrast . 145 Complex Associations 146 Co-operation of Associations 146 Obstructive Associations 147 Active Reproduction : Recollection 147 CONTENTS. ix CHAPTER X. MEMORY (CONTINUED). PAGE Memory and its Degrees . 150 Beginnings and Growth of Memory 151 Repetition of Experience 152 New Experiences 153 How Memory Improves 153 Causes of Growth of Memory 154 Varieties of Memory, General and Special 155 Causes of Difference 157 Training of the Memory 159 (a) Exercise in Acquisition 162 Learning by Heart 165 Art of Mnemonics 167 (b) Exercise in Recalling 169 Subjects which exercise the Memory 170 Educational Value of Memory . . . . . . . .171 CHAPTER XI. CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. Reproductive and Constructive Imagination ....... 174 The Constructive Process 174 Various Forms of Construction 176 (A) Intellectual Imagination . 176 (1) Imagination and Acquisition . , 176 Reducing the Abstract to the Concrete 177 (2) Imagination and Discovery ....... 178 (B) Practical Contrivance 178 (C) Esthetic Imagination 179 Risks of Uncontrolled Imagination 180 Intellectual Value of Imagination . . . . . . . 181 Development of Imagination 182 Germ of Imagination . . . 182 Children's Fancy ........... 183 Imagination brought under Control ....... 184 Later Growth of Imagination . ...... 185 Varieties of Imaginative Power 186 Training of the Imagination 187 Twofold Direction of Imaginative Training 187 (a) Restraining Fancy 188 (b) Cultivating the Imagination 189 Exercise of the Imagination in Teaching 192 Exercise of Invention 195 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XII. ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. PACE Apprehension and Comprehension 199 Stages of Thinking 2jo The General Notion or Concept 200 How Concepts are formed , 201 (A) Comparison 201 Conditions of Comparison 202 (B) Abstraction 204 (C) Generalization 205 Conception and Naming 235 Discovering the Meaning of Words 206 Degrees of Abstraction 207 Marking off Single Qualities . . . . 207 Varieties of Concepts 208 Notions which involve Synthesis 208 (A) Ideas of Magnitude and Number 209 (B) Notions of Geometry, etc. 210 Moral Ideas : Idea of Self 211 Notions of Others * 212 Conception and Discrimination 213 Classification 214 CHAPTER XIII. ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION (CONTINUED) Imperfection and Perfection of Notions 216 Distinctness of Concepts . . . . 216 Causes of Indistinctness of Concepts 217 Accuracy of Concepts 218 (A) Inaccurate Notions depending on Imperfect Abstraction . . 219 (B) Inaccurate Notions depending on Loss of Elements . . 220 On Revising our Notions 221 Relation of Conception to Imagination 221 On Defining Notions 222 Growth of Conceptual Power 224 Early Notions 224 Growth of Conception and of Discrimination 225 Formation of more Abstract Conceptions 226 Use of Adjectives 227 Period of Fuller Development 228 How Progress in Conceptual Power is to be measured .... 229 Varieties of Conceptual Power 229 Training the Power of Abstraction 230 Exercise in Classing Objects 231 Explaining Meaning of Words 235 CONTENTS. xi PAGE Controlling the Child's Use of Words 236 Order of taking up Abstract Studies 237 CHAPTER XIV. JUDGING AND REASONING. Nature of Judgment 239 Relation of Concept to Judgment 241 Process of Judging 242 Affirmation and Negation 244 Belief and Doubt 245 Extent of Judgment 245 Perfection of Judgments : Clearness 246 Accuracy of Judgment 247 Other Merits of Judgment 248 Inference and Reasoning 249 Relation of Judging to Reasoning 251 Inductive and Deductive Reasoning 253 (, A) Nature of Inductive Reasoning 252 Spontaneous Induction 253 Regulated Induction 254 Induction and Causation 254 Children's Idea of Cause 254 Natural Reasoning about Causes . . . 255 Regulated Reasoning about Causes 257 CHAPTER XV. JUDGING AND REASONING (CONTINUED). Deduct : ve Reasoning 259 Application of Principles and Explanations 260 Regulated Deduction 261 Other Forms of Reasoning : Analogy 2C2 Development of Powers of Judging and Reasoning .... 263 Growth of Reasoning Power 266 First Reasonings about Cause 266 Varieties of Power of Judging and Reasoning 268 Training the Faculty of Judgment 270 Training of the Reasoning Powers 272 Subjects which exercise the Reasoning Faculty 274 Method in Teaching 275 CHAPTER XVI. THE FEELINGS : NATURE OF FEELING. Feeling defined 279 The Diffusion and Effects of Feeling 280 xii CONTENTS. PAGB Pleasure and Pain 283 Effects of Pleasure and Pain 284 Monotony and Change 285 Accommodation to Surroundings . 286 Varieties of Pleasure and Pain 288 (A) Sense-Feelings 288 (B) The Emotions 289 Development of Emotion 289 Association of Feeling 291 Habits of Feeling -292 Order of Development of the Emotions 293 Characteristics of Children's Feelings 294 The Education of the Feelings 297 (a) Repression of Feeling 298 (b) Stimulation of Emotion 299 CHAPTER XVII. THE EGOISTIC AND SOCIAL FEELINGS. (A) Egoistic Feelings : Fear 303 Anger, Antipathy 307 Love of Activity and of Power 311 Feeling of Rivalry 3'5 Love of Approbation and Self-Esteem ..... 318 (B) Social Feelings: Love and Respect 321 Sympathy 322 Conditions of Sympathy 324 Uses of Sympathy 325 CHAPTER XVIII. THE HIGHER SENTIMENTS. The Intellectual Sentiment 329 Feeling of Ignorance and Wonder 329 Pleasure of Gaining Knowledge 330 Children's Curiosity 332 Growth of Intellectual Feeling 333 The ^Esthetic Sentiment 335 Elements of /Esthetic Pleasure . 335 .(Esthetic Judgment : Taste 336 Standard of Taste , 337 Growth of ^Esthetic Faculty 337 The Education of Taste 310 Ethical or Moral Sentiment 3 ^4 Moral Feeling and Moral Judgment 346 The Moral Standard 347 CONTENTS. xiii PAGE Growth of the Moral Sentiment 347 Development of Self-judging Conscience 350 The Training of the Moral Faculty 351 CHAPTER XIX. THE WILL: VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. Definition of Willing 356 Willing, Knowing, and Feeling 356 Desire, the Basis of Willing 357 Desire and Activity 358 Desiring and Willing 359 Development of Willing 359 Instinctive Factor in Volition 360 Effects of Experience and of Exercise . 360 Beginnings of Movement 361 Transition to Voluntary Movement 362 Effects of Exercise 363 Imitation 364 Excitation of Movement by Command 367 Internal Command of Movement 368 Movement and Habit 370 Strength of Habit 371 Fixity and Plasticity of Movement 372 Training of Will and the Active Organs 373 CHAPTER XX. MORAL ACTION: CHARACTER. (a) Influence of Growing Intelligence 378 (b; Influence of Growth of Feeling 379 Complex Action 380 Deliberation and Choice 380 Resolution and Perseverance 381 Self-Control 383 Stages of Self-Control 383 Control of the Feelings 384 Control of the Thoughts 3^5 Different Forms of Self-Control . ..... 386 Habit and Conduct 387 Moral Habits 388 Character 389 External Control of the Will . 300 Authority and Obedience 391 The Ends and Grounds of Early Discipline 392 Conditions of Moral Discipline 394 x i v CONTENTS. PAGE Punishment 395 Proportioning of Punishment 397 Reward, Encouragement . . 39** Development of Free-will 4 Discipline of the Home and of the School .... . 4 O1 APPENDICES. (A) Periods of Development 4S (B) Measurement of Faculty ... ... 409 (C) Method in Teaching . 4 1 5 NOTES 423 TEACHER'S HANDBOOK PSYCHOLOGY CHAPTER I. PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. Art and Science. The doing of anything presup- poses some knowledge, for every action is the employment of certain agencies which stand in the relation of means to our particular end or object of desire ; and we could not select and make use of these means unless we knew be- forehand that they were fitted to bring about the fulfill- ment of our desire. This is evident even in the case of simple actions. Thus, if after sitting reading for some time and becoming cold I go out and take a brisk walk, it is because I know that by so doing I am certain to recover warmth. And it is still more manifest in the case of com- plex actions. The action of an engineer, of a surgeon, or of a statesman, involves a quantity of knowledge of vari- ous kinds. The knowledge which is thus serviceable for doing things or for practice is of two sorts. Thus, the knowl- edge implied in the above example, that muscular exercise promotes bodily warmth, may be knowledge that I have gathered from my own experience aided by what others have told me ; or it may have been obtained from a study of the bodily organism and its functions, and of the effects of muscular activity on the circulation, etc. The first kind of knowledge, being derived from what may be called un- 2 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. revised experience and observation, is called empirical ; the secon-d kind, being the outcome of those processes of re- vision and extension of every-day empirical knowledge which make up the work of science, is named scientific. The chief differences between empirical and scientific knowledge are the following: (i) The former is based on a narrow range of observation, and on observation which is apt to be loose and inexact ; the latter, on a wide survey of facts and on accurate processes of observation and ex- periment. (2) The former consists of propositions which have only a limited scope, and are never, strictly speaking, universally true ; the latter is made up of propositions of wide comprehensiveness, and of universal validity, known as principles or laws. (3) As a result of this the conclusions deduced from empirical knowledge are precarious, whereas the conclusions properly drawn from scientific principles are perfectly trustworthy. We call any department of practice an art when the actions involved are of sufficient complexity and difficulty to demand special study, and to offer scope for individual skill. Thus, we talk now of an art of cooking, because with our advanced civilization the preparation of food has become so elaborate a process as to call for special prepa- ration or training. Every art requires a certain amount and variety of knowledge. In the early stages of development the vari- ous arts were carried on by help of empirical knowledge. Thus, in agriculture men sowed certain crops rather than others in given soils, because they and their predecessors had found out from experience that these were the best fitted. Similarly in medicine, men resorted at first to par- ticular remedies in particular diseases, because their prac- tical experience had taught them the utility of so doing. Such guidance from empirical sources was found to be insufficient. Workers in the various departments of art asked for a deeper knowledge of the agencies they em- ART AND SCIENCE. 3 ployed and the processes they carried out, and so they had recourse to science. Thus the art of agriculture has profited from the sciences of chemistry and botany, and the art of medicine from the sciences of anatomy and physiology. Indeed, the demand for a fuller and more exact knowledge on the part of practical workers has been an important stimulus to the development of the sciences. The reason of this is plain from what has been said above. The characteristic imperfections of empirical knowledge become more and more manifest as an art de- velops. And these defects are the more conspicuous in the case of the more complex arts, and particularly those which have to do with living things. This is clearly illus- trated in the case of medicine. The organic processes going on in the human body are so numerous and compli- cated, there are so many variable circumstances which help to modify a disease in different cases, and so to inter- fere with a simple uniform effect of any given remedial agency, that the generalizations based on practical experi- ence are continually proving themselves to be inadequate and precarious. The great modern improvements in the art of healing have been the direct outcome of the growth of the sciences underlying the art. Hence we have come to employ in the case of all the more complex and intricate departments of practice the expression " science and art." Thus we talk of the sci- ence and art of engineering, of agriculture, and even of politics. To this pair of correlated terms there corre- sponds the equally familiar couple, " theory and practice." For the term theory in this connection refers more par- ticularly to the principles or truths of a scientific rank which stand at the foundation of the art. It is important to understand the precise place and function of these scientific principles in their relation to practice. First of all, then, they do not take the place of empirical generalizations. These are at first, as already 4 PS YCHOLGG Y AND ED UCA TION. remarked, the only knowledge by which an art can guide itself ; and they always continue to form a valuable part of every theory of a practical subject. Science alone would never have taught men the best way to till the ground, to obtain metal from the soil, or to carry out any other set of industrial operations. The function of scien- tific principles is to supplement, interpret, and, where necessary, correct empirical knowledge. In this way the teaching of practical experience is rendered more precise and certain. But science renders to art a yet greater service than this. It greatly enlarges the range of practical discovery. When once we have our scientific principles we can de- duce practical conclusions from these, and thus anticipate the slow and uncertain progress of empirical discovery. Thus, in the art of surgery, the modern method of treating wounds is largely the direct outcome of scientific reflec- tion on the nature of wounds and of the natural process of healing. Such deductions must, of course, be verified by actual experiment before they can take their place among the assured body of knowledge making up the theory of the subject. So that here, too, the theory of a practical operation is constituted by two factors an em- pirical and a scientific. The only difference between this case and the first is that here the work of science precedes instead of following the work of experience, and, in place of having to supplement and interpret this, has to be sup- plemented and verified by it. Art and Science of Education. The above re marks may help us to understand the fact that the art of education is now seeking to ground itself on scientific truths or principles. As an art, education aims at the realization of a par- ticular end. This end must, of course, be assumed to be clearly defined before we can repair to science to ascertain what agencies we can best employ in order to compass it. ART AND SCIENCE OF EDUCATION. 5 At first sight, however, it might seem that this condition is not satisfied. Writers have discussed at length what the true end of education is, and they have proposed very dif- ferent definitions of the matter. The reason of this uncertainty is apparent. Educa- tion, unlike such an art as cookery, has a large and com- prehensive object, viz., to help to mold and fashion in cer- tain definite ways no less complex a thing than a human being, with his various physical, intellectual, and moral capabilities, so as to fit him to fulfill his highest function and destiny. And to ascertain what the rightly fashioned man is like, and wherein consists his true work and serv^ ice, is a problem of much difficulty. In truth, we can only satisfactorily settle this when we have determined the supreme ends of human action in other words, the highest good of man. It is the province of the great practical science of ethics to ascertain this for us ; and the teachers of this science have from ancient times been divided into opposed schools. We need not, however, wait for the resolution of these grave and difficult problems. Men are to a large extent practically agreed as to what is right and wrong, though they have not settled the theoretic basis of these distinc- tions. In like manner educators are practically at one as to the objects they aim at. In spite of ethical and theological differences, we agree to say that education seeks, by social stimulus, guidance, and control, to develop the natural powers of the child, so as to render him able and disposed to lead a healthy, happy, and morally worthy life. This is offered only as a rough approximation to a definition which may be generally accepted. In filling out this idea, different thinkers would no doubt diverge considerably, according to their conception of man's nature and destiny. Thus, to the firm believer in the Christian doctrine of a future life it must appear of the first consequence to de- velop those religious faculties and emotions the exercise of which con- stitutes man's highest function and the direct preparation for the larger 6 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. and enduring after-life. But, while fully recognizing the truth that religious belief must throughout profoundly color a man's conception of the scope of education and the relative value of its several parts, one may assume that in practice educators of widely unlike theological views agree as to the main lines of education in its distinctly human aspects. A word or two as to the scope of our definition. In the first place, we take education as aiming at the formation of faculty, rather than at the giving of information or the communication of knowledge. In other words, education, as the etymology of the word tells us (Lat, educere), has to do with drawing out, i. e., developing the mind and its various activities, and not merely with putting something into the mind. This distinction is often spoken of as that between education and in- struction. But the word instruction (Lat., instruere) implies the orderly putting together of the materials of knowledge so as to form a structure. And, taken in this sense, there is no fundamental opposition between the two. The faculties of the intelligence can only be called forth and strengthened in the processes of gaining knowledge, and thus " educa- tion attains its end through instruction." The teacher may, however, fix his mind more on the educative result of his processes, viz., the ability to observe and reason about facts in the future, or on the im- mediate gain of school exercises in the shape of useful knowledge. And this difference in the teacher's point of view will deeply affect his ideas as to proper subjects to be taught, and even as to the best method of teaching them. Finally, it is to be noted that our definition does not stop short at the intellectual side of the mind, but includes the other sides as well. The supposition that education is only concerned with the intellectual faculties probably has its source in the common error that the educator and the schoolmaster are synonymous terms, whereas in reality the latter is only one among many educators. And even the schoolmaster will err if he thinks his business ends with a mere intellectual discipline of his pupils. But, while our definition is thus a wide one, it is less wide than that of some thinkers, e. g., J. S. Mill, who included under education the influence of external circumstances generally. Education is to us essentially the action of other human beings on the child, and this only so far as it is conscious and designed. Moreover, in its higher forms, education implies a systematic application of external forces and agen- cies according to a definite plan and an orderly method.* * On the relation of instruction to education, see Prof. Payne's " Lectures on the Science and Art of Education," Lecture I, p. 18, etc. ; ART AND SCIENCE OF EDUCATION. 7 As soon as we approximate to a definition of educa- tion, as in the above, we see that merely empirical knowl- edge will carry us but a little way in realizing our object. For the human nature which it is our special business to develop is plainly the most complex of all living things. It is at once something material and something mental ; and this mental part, again, is exceedingly composite in its constitution, being made up of a number of intellectual and moral capabilities and dispositions. Nor is this all ; we find that these several physical and mental powers are joined together and interact upon one another in a very intricate and puzzling manner. Closely -connected with this peculiar complexity of the child's nature, we have its great variability, showing itself in the unique constitution or idiosyncrasy of each individual child. Owing to these circumstances, mere experience could never have led men far on the right educational path. And as a matter of history we know that the older methods of educating the young were faulty, and in some respects radically wrong, just because they were not arrived at by aid of a profound and scientific study of child-nature. Thus, to take an obvious instance, the cardinal error of making so much of intellectual instruction dry and unpalatable arose out of ignorance of the elementary truth of human nature, that the intellectual faculties are only fully aroused to activity under the stimulus of feeling in the shape of interest. That this was the real source of the blunder is proved by the fact that the modern educational reformers, who have set themselves to correct this and other defects of the older system, were guided to these reforms by a deeper study of children's minds. This remark applies alike to the ideas of practical workers, as Pestalozzi, and of pure theorists, as Locke.* and Mrs. Bryant's " Educational Ends," p. 5. On some alternative defi- nitions of education, see Dr. Bain's " Education as a Science," chap. i. * On the effects of an ignorance of psychology in rendering con- 8 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. What is really wanted as the groundwork of education is a body of well-ascertained truths respecting the funda- mental properties of the human being, from which the right and sound methods of training the young may be seen to follow as conclusions. This theoretic basis will consist of facts and laws relating to the child's physical and mental organization, its various susceptibilities, its ways of reacting on external agents and influences, and the manner in which it develops. And these universal truths must be supplied by some science or sciences. Divisions of Educational Science. These prin- ciples are derived in the main from two sciences : physi- ology, or the science which treats of the bodily organism, its several structures and functions, and psychology, or mental science which deals with the mind, its several fac- ulties and their mode of operation. The former princi- ples, including certain applications of physiological science known as hygiene, underlie what is now called physical education, the training of the bodily powers and the fur- therance of health. The latter form the basis of mental i. e., intellectual and moral training. Within the limits of mental education we have certain subdivisions. Popularly we distinguish between intellect- ual and moral education ; but this twofold division is in- adequate. As we shall see by and by, the mind presents three well-marked and fundamental departments viz., the intellect, the emotions, and the will. The develop- ment of it on any one of these three sides is to a certain extent a separate work, calling for its own particular mode of exercise, and, one may add, its own peculiar fitness in the teacher. These three directions of training are dis- tinguishable as intellectual, aesthetic, and moral education. They correspond to the three great ends: (i) the logical end of truth, (2) the aesthetic end of beauty, and (3) the temporary educational practices faulty and even vicious, see Herbert Spencer, "Education," chap, i, p. 24, and following. DIVISIONS OF EDUCATIONAL SCIENCE. ethical end of virtue. The first aims at building up the fabric of knowledge, and developing the faculties by which knowledge is reached ; the second, at such a cultivation of the feelings as will best subserve the end of a pleasurable existence, and in particular the appreciation and enjoy- ment of beauty in nature and art ; and the third, at devel- oping the will and forming the character. In giving this assistance to education, psychology is supplemented by three sciences which are not purely theoretical like it, but have a more practical character, since they have as their special province to regulate the activity of the mind on each of these three sides. These are logic, which regulates our intellectual operations by supplying us with rules for correct reasoning ; aesthetics, which aims at giving us a standard of beauty and criteria by which we may judge of its existence in any instance ; and ethics, which fixes the ultimate standard of right and wrong, and determines what are the several duties and virtues. The scientific groundwork of the art of education may be made clear by the following diagram : Phy FIG. i. ;ical. Education. Mental. ^ ^ i n Physiology together with Hygiene. n Psychology together with Logic, Esthetics, and Ethics. 10 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. Psychology and Education. Of the sciences that contribute principles to education, psychology is plainly the most important. The teacher is most directly con- cerned with the development of the child's mind, and con- siders his bodily organism mainly in its connection with mental efficiency. Again, since the teacher is commonly supposed to have as his principal object the exercise of certain of the intel- lectual faculties viz., those employed in the acquisition and retention of knowledge it is clear that some portions of psychology will be of special value to him. Thus the laws governing the processes of acquiring and reproduc- ing knowledge will have a peculiarly direct bearing on the teacher's work. Such truths of mental science would seem to be specially fitted to supply principles of education. At the same time, it is clearly impracticable to select certain portions of psychology as exclusively applying to education. For, first of all, even allowing that education need busy itself only with instruction, or the communica- tion of so much useful knowledge, it may be said that the teacher still needs to study other faculties than the acquis- itive ; for psychology teaches us that no power of the mind works in perfect isolation. Thus, it has come to be recog- nized that, in order that a child should gain clear knowl- edge through words, his observing faculties must have undergone a certain discipline, so that his mind may have been stored with distinct and easily reproducible images of objects in his actual surroundings. Hence, one reason for including the training of the senses in modern systems of education. More than this, it will be found that there can be no adequate exercise of the intellect which does not take account of the feelings, in the shape of interest and a love of learning. It follows, then, that the teacher needs some general acquaintance with the principles of psychology, even though he is aiming merely at the most rapid and effect- ADVANTAGE TO THE TEACHER. u ive method of storing the mind with knowledge. But it may be assumed that few teachers now limit their efforts to this object. Education, in its true sense, is commonly aimed at by intelligent teachers in the process of instruc- tion itself, which thus becomes, in a measure at least, a means to an end beyond itself. And some attention is paid, as time allows and opportunity suggests, to the cul- tivation of the feelings and the formation of good moral dispositions and habits. And this being so, a clear appre- hension of the different sides of mind, and of the way in which they interact one on another, may be said to be of immediate utility to the teacher. In other words, the principles of education must be derived from the element- ary truths of psychology taken as a whole. It follows, from what was said above concerning the relation of science to art, that there are two principal uses of mental science to the teacher : (i) An accurate ac- quaintance with the mental faculties, which are the mate- rial that the educator has to operate on and mold into shape, will supply him with a criterion or touchstone by which he may test the soundness of existing rules and practices in education. (2) The knowledge so gained may be made to directly suggest better educational rules than those in vogue, and so to promote the further devel- opment of the art. No doubt we may expect too much from a study of mental science. We may err by supposing that scientific knowledge will render practical or empirical knowledge superfluous, instead of merely supplementing and correct- ing it. And it may be well to remember, therefore, that, as a science, psychology can only tell us what are the gen- eral characters of mind, and point out the best way of dealing with it in its general features and broad outlines ; it can not acquaint us with the manifold diversities of in- telligence and disposition, or suggest the right modifica- tions of our educational processes to suit these variations. 12 PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION. Accordingly, the educator will always need to supplement his general study of mind by a careful observation of the individual minds which he is called upon to deal with, so as to properly vary and adapt his methods of teaching and disciplining. Even here, however, the student of psychology will find his scientific knowledge useful. For the work of get- ting to know an individual child is one not only of obser- vation but of interpretation. And in the performance of this a general acquaintance with mind will materially assist. It is evident, indeed, that we never understand an individual thing thoroughly except in the light of gen- eral knowledge. A botanist only comprehends a new plant when he classifies it i. e., refers it to a general de- scription or head, and accounts for it by help of general botanical principles. Similarly we only understand a par- ticular child when we bring to bear on it a previous gen- eral knowledge of child and human nature. And while psychological knowledge thus aids us in reading the indi- vidual characters of children, it assists us further in deter- mining the proper modifications of our educational meth- ods to suit these variations. Experience is without doubt our main guide here. What kind of punishment, for example, will be most efficacious and salutary for boys of a particular temperament, etc., is a problem which must be solved to a large extent by the results of actual trial. Still, our scientific principles are a valuable supplementary aid here also, not only by helping us to understand the different results of our educational treatment in different cases, but also by assisting us in lighting upon the required modifications. APPENDIX. On the scope and aim of education and its special relation to psy- chology, the student may consult : Prof. Payne's " Lectures on the Sci- ence and Art of Education," Lectures I and II ; Dr. Bain's " Education as a Science," chap, i ; Th. Waitz's " Allgemeine Padagogik," Ein- leitung, i. CHAPTER II. SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. PSYCHOLOGY, or mental science, may be defined as our general knowledge of mind, and more particularly the human mind, reduced to an exact and systematic form. In order to understand this definition, we must try to give precision to the term mind. Scientific Conception of Mind. We commonly distinguish between a mind as a unity or substance and the several manifestations or phenomena of this substance. In every-day discourse, indeed, we talk of our own and others' minds as the subjects of various feelings, ideas, etc. Psychology as a science does not inquire into the nature of mind in itself, or as a substance, but confines itself to the study of its several states or operations. It is the different forms of activity of mind that we can observe in our actual mental experience or mental life that constitute the proper subject-matter of our science. And it is plain that this knowledge of the mind in actual operation, and of the various ways in which it manifests itself and works, is what we need for practical guidance, whether of our own or of others' minds. How, now, shall we mark off these mental facts from other phenomena which form the subject-matter of the physical sciences? We can not define such states of mind by resolving them into something simpler. They have nothing in common beyond the fact of being mental states. I 4 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. Hence, we can only use some equivalent phrase, as when we say that a mental phenomenon is a fact of our con- scious experience or conscious life. Or, again, we may enumerate the chief varieties of these mental phenomena, and say that mind is the sum of our processes of knowing, our feelings of pleasure and pain, and our voluntary do- ings. Popularly, mind is apt to be identified with know- ing or intelligence. A man of mind is a man of intellect. But though intelligence is perhaps the most important part of mind, it is not the whole. In mental science we must reckon the sensation of pain arising from a bruise as a fact of mind. Or, finally, we may set mind in antithesis to what is not mind. Mind is non-material, has no exist- ence in space as material bodies have. We can not touch a thought or a feeling, and one feeling does not lie outside of another in space. These phenomena occur in time only. Mind is thus the inner smaller world (mikrokosm) as distin- guished from the external and larger world (makrokosm). Mind and Body. While it is important thus to set mind in strong opposition to material things, we must keep in view the close connection between the two. What we call a human being is made up of a bodily organism and a mind. Our personality or " self " is a mind connected with or embodied in a material framework. As we shall see presently, all mental processes or operations are con- nected with actions of the nervous system. The most abstract thought is accompanied by some mode of activity in .the brain-centers. Hence, while we must be careful not to confuse the mental and the material, the psychical and the physical, as though they were of the same kind (homogeneous), we can not exclude the latter from view in dealing with mind. We must always think of mind as attended by, and, in some inexplicable way, related to, the living organism, and more particularly the nervous system and its actions. And this recognition of this close and constant companionship with body is a matter of great HOW WE OBSERVE AND STUDY MIND. 15 practical moment in seeking to train and develop the mind. The Subjective Method. There are two distinct ways of knowing mind. The first is the direct, internal, or subjective way.* By this method we direct attention to what is going on in our own mind at the time of its oc- currence, or afterward. We have the power of turning the attention inward on the phenomena of mind. Thus we can attend to a particular feeling, say emulation or sympathy, in order to see what its nature is, of what ele- mentary parts it consists, and how it is affected by the circumstances of the moment. This method of internal or subjective observation is known as introspection (" looking within "). The Objective Method. In the second place, we may study mental phenomena not only in our own indi- vidual mind, but as they present themselves externally in other minds. This is the indirect, external, or object- ive way of studying mental phenomena. Thus we note the manifestations of others' feelings in looks, gestures, etc. We arrive at a knowledge of their thoughts by their speech, and observe their inclinations and motives by noting their actions. This objective observation embraces not only the mental phenomena of the individuals who are personally known to us, old and young, but those of others of whom we hear or read in biography, etc. Also it includes the study of minds in masses or aggregates, as they present themselves in national sentiments and actions, and in the events of history. It includes too a comparative study of mind by observing its agreements and differences among * "Subject" means the mind as knowing something, or as affected (pleasurably or painfully) by a thing. "Object" is that which is known, or which affects the mind in a certain way. The house I see, the flower I admire, are objects to me, who am the subject that sees and admires them. 1 6 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. different races, and even among different grades of ani- mal life. The study of the simpler phases of mind in the child, in backward and uncivilized races, and in the lower animals, is especially valuable for understanding the growth of the mature or fully developed human mind. Both Methods must be combined. Scientific knowledge is characterized by certainty, exactness, and generality. We must observe carefully so as to make sure of our facts, and to note precisely what is present. And we must go on from a knowledge of the particular to a knowledge of the general. From this rough defini- tion of what is meant by scientific knowledge we may easily see that neither the internal nor the external method is complete without the other. To begin with : since we only directly observe what is passing in our own individual mind, some amount of introspection is the first condition of all certain and accurate knowledge of mental states. To try to discover mental phenomena and their laws solely by watching the external signs and effects of others' thoughts, feelings, and volitions, would plainly be absurd. For these external manifestations are in them- selves as empty of meaning as words in an unknown tongue, and only receive their meaning by a reference to what we ourselves have thought and felt. On the other hand, an exclusive attention to the contents of our indi- vidual mind would never give us a general knowledge of mind. In order to eliminate the effects of individuality, we must at every step compare our own modes of think- ing and feeling with those of other minds ; and the wider the area included in our comparison, the sounder are our generalizations likely to be. Each of these ways of studying mind has its character- istic difficulties. To attend closely to the events of our mental life presupposes a certain power of "abstraction." It requires at first a considerable effort to withdraw the attention from the more striking events of the external OBSERVATION OF CHILDREN'S MINDS. \j world, the sights and sounds that surround us, and to keep it fixed on the comparatively obscure events of the inner world. Even in the case of the trained psychologist the work is always attended with a peculiar difficulty. On the other hand, there is a serious danger in reading the minds of others, due to an excess of the propensity to project our own modes of thinking and feeling into them. This danger increases with the remoteness of the mind we are observing from our own. To apprehend, for example, the sentiments and convictions of an ancient Roman, or of an uncivilized African, is a very delicate operation. It implies close attention to the differences as well as the similarities of external manifestation, also an effort of imagination by which, though starting from some remem- bered experiences of our own, we feel our way into a new set of circumstances, new experiences, and a new set of mental habits. Observation of Children's Minds. These diffi- culties are strikingly illustrated in the attempt to note and interpret the external manifestations of children's minds. This observation is of the greatest consequence to psy- chologists in general, for a sound knowledge of the early manifestations of mind is a necessary preliminary to a sci- entific explanation of its later developments. And to the educator this knowledge constitutes the most important department of the science of mind. Yet this is perhaps one of the most difficult branches of psychological inquiry. The reason of this can easily be seen. Children have their own characteristic ways of feeling, of regarding things, of judging as to truth, and so forth. And, al- though the adult observer of children has himself been a child, he is unable, except in rare cases, to recall his own childish experiences with any distinctness. How many of us are really able to recollect the wonderings, the terrors, the grotesque fancies of our first years ? And then chil- dren are apt to be misunderstood because they have to 1 8 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. use our medium of speech and often fail to seize its exact meaning. Nevertheless, these difficulties are not insuperable. They can be got over where there are present the qualifi- cations of a good observer and an earnest purpose. And it must be borne in mind that if there are special difficul- ties in the case, there are also special facilities. For chil- dren, as compared with adults, are frank in the manifesta- tion of their feelings, and free from the many little artifices by which their elders are wont, only half consciously perhaps, to disguise and transform their real thoughts and sentiments in expressing them to others. The special qualities needed for a close observation and deep understanding of the child-mind are good ob- serving habits and a strong, loving interest in childhood. Both of these are necessary. If we have only the first, we shall fail to see far into child-nature, just because we shall not take the trouble to place ourselves, in imagination, in the circumstances of children, so as to realize how they are affected by things. A warm, tender interest, leading to a habit of unfettered companionship, seems to be a condition of a fine imaginative insight into children's minds, and a firm grasp of the fact that their ways differ in so many particulars from our ways. On the other hand, if there is the kindly feeling without the trained faculty of observation, there is the risk of idealizing child- hood, and investing it with admirable traits that do not really belong to it. In the matter of child-observation the psychologist may look to the educators of the young, the parent and the teachers, for valuable aid. Some of the best observa- tions on the subject of the infant mind which we already possess have been contributed by fathers. And much may still be done by parents in the way of recording the course of development of individual children. At the same time, school-teachers, though coming into less inti- GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MIND. !g mate relations with individual children, have the very great advantage of observing numbers. And from them we may reasonably ask for statistics of childhood. The dates at which certain faculties become prominent, the relative strength of the several feelings and impulses, the dominant intellectual and moral characteristics of children, these and other points are all matters about which teachers, who will take the trouble to note accurately, may be expected to supply the psychologists of the future with much valu- able knowledge.* General Knowledge of Mind. As has been ob- served, science consists of general knowledge, or knowl- edge expressed in a general form. Hence, mental science seeks to generalize our knowledge of mind. In the first place, it aims at grouping all the phenomena observed under certain heads. That is to say, it classifies the end- less variety of mental states according to their resem- blances. In so doing it overlooks the individual differ- ences of minds and fixes attention on their common feat- ures. A sound scientific classification of mental states is a matter of practical importance, whether we are dealing with minds in the earlier or the later stages of develop- ment. Thus, the teacher will be in a far better position to deal with a child's mind, both in its several parts and as a whole, when he has reduced the tangle of mental manifestations to order and simplicity. In the second place, every science aims not only at ordering its phenomena, but at making certain assertions about them. There are general truths or laws which hold good of numerous varieties of phenomena. When the phenomena are occurrences in time, these laws have to do with the relation of events to other events preceding or * On the qualifications of an observer of children's minds, and on the literature of the subject, see the writer's Introduction to M. Perez's work, " The First Three Years of Childhood." London : W. Swan Son- nenschoin & Co. 20 SCOPE AND METHOD OF PSYCHOLOGY. succeeding them. That is to say, they formulate the re- lations of causal dependence of phenomena on other phe- nomena. Mental science seeks to arrive at such truths or laws of mind. Its ultimate object is to determine the con- ditions on which mental phenomena depend. Thus, the psychologist asks what are the conditions of retention, what are the circumstances which produce and favor the keeping of impressions in the mind. And it is this knowl- edge of conditions and of laws which is of greatest practi- cal value. For it is only by understanding how a mental product is formed that we can help in forming it, or inter- fere so as to modify the process of formation. Now, a little attention to the subject will show that mental phenomena are related in the way of dependence not only to other phenomena immediately preceding, but to remotely antecedent phenomena. For example, the quick response of a child to a command depends not only on certain present conditions, viz., attention to the words of the command, etc., but on past conditions, on the forma- tion of a habit, which process may have been going on for years. Hence, the consideration of relations of depend- ence leads on to the view of mind as a process of growth or development. The most important laws of mind, from the educator's point of view, are laws of mental development. Before we go on to consider the several groups of mental states in detail and the laws which govern them, we shall do well to look at mind from the physiological side, that is to say, at the way in which the mind as a whole is affected by its connection with the bodily organ- ism. This aspect of our subject will occupy us in the next chapter. APPENDIX. For a fuller account of the scope and method of psychology the reader is referred to my larger work, " Outlines of Psychology," Ap- pendix A ; also to the works referred to in the appendix to Chapter II of that volume ; and particularly to Dr. J. Ward's article " Psychology," in the gth edition of the " Encyclopaedia Britannica." CHAPTER III. MIND AND BODY. Connection between Mind and Body. When we say that mind and body are connected, we are simply stating a fact of our every-day experience, and a fact which scientific observation and experiment are rendering more and more certain and precise. That is to say, we affirm that mental processes or operations are in some way conjoined with bodily operations. We do not make any assertion as to the ultimate nature of mind or of body, or seek to account for the apparent mystery of two things so utterly disparate as mind and body being thus united in one living being. These problems lie outside science altogether, and belong to the domain of philosophy or metaphysics. Keeping then to the phenomena, or observable processes of mind and of body, we find first of all that these are clearly conjoined in time. That is to say, mental activity goes on along with bodily activity and always has this for its accompaniment. We know nothing of mental opera- tions that are unattended by physical changes in certain portions of the body. And some of these physiological processes appear to be perfectly simultaneous with the mental operations to which they correspond. In the second place, there is an apparent interaction between the mental and physical processes. As we shall see presently, there are certain organs of the body which are 22 MIND AND BODY. in a peculiar way subservient to the discharge of the several mental functions. According to their state at any time will mental activity be lively or otherwise. More- over, by influencing these physical organs we may pro- duce changes in the correlated mental operations. Hence we are justified in speaking about these organs as the physiological support of mind, and of their activity as the condition of mental activity. On the other hand, mental processes react on the bodily organism. Thus excessive intellectual activity, violent grief, and so forth, are known to have far-reaching effects on the bodily functions. The Nervous System. The particular organs which thus subserve our mental life are known as the nervous system, of which the brain is one of the most important parts. These are therefore known as the organs of mind.* The nervous system is a connected set of physio- logical structures, composed of a very fine or highly organized form of living matter. These fall into two main divisions : compact masses known as nerve-centers, lying protected within the bony covering of the skull and backbone ; and extensive thread-like ramifications known as nerves, connecting these central masses with outlying regions of the body. The nerves, which are bundles of exceedingly fine white fibers or threadlets, are the carrying portion of the nervous apparatus. They are of two classes. The first connect the centers with outlying surfaces, which are susceptible of being acted on by certain external agents or stimuli, such as mechanical pressure, heat, etc. Their function is to transmit the state of nervous activity pro- duced by this stimulation from the periphery to the center. Hence they are known as incarrying or afferent * The nervous system here means the cerebro-spinal system as dis- tinct from the sympathetic system which subserves the lower vital functions of the body. THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 23 nerves. Since the central effect of this transmission of the active state is what we call a sensation, these nerves are also called sensory nerves, and the peripheral surfaces sensory surfaces. Such are the skin, the retina of the eye, etc. The other class of nerves connect the centers with muscles, or those bundles of fiber by the contractions of which the limbs are moved and the voice exercised. They carry nervous impulses from within outward, and are known as outcarrying or efferent nerves. And since this outgoing activity immediately precedes and produces muscular contraction, and so movement, they are also called motor nerves. The nerve-centers are made up partly of gray masses having a minute cellular structure, and partly of bundles of nerve fiber, connecting these masses one with another, both laterally and longitudinally. They have as their peculiar function to transform sensory stimulation into movement, and to adjust the latter to the former ; also to bring to- gether the results of different sensory stimulations, and to ad- just complex groups of movements to groups of impression. These nerve-centers are arranged in a series or scale of growing complexity. The lower centers are those residing in the backbone and known as the spinal column. The higher centers lodged within the skull are called the brain. From this brief description of the nervous system, it will be seen that the general form of nervous action is a process of sensory stimulation followed by one of motor excitation. This may be represented by the diagram, Fig. 2. This scheme roughly answers to the simpler type of actions of ourselves as well as of the lower animals, the type known as reflex action, i. e., movement in immediate response to external stimulus. Thus, when a child asleep instantly withdraws his foot when this is pressed, the action is effected by means of the lower spinal centers. Such reflex actions, however, are not attended with any mental activity ; they are unconscious. MIND AND BODY. FIG. 2. Sensory Surfac A * Nerve-Centers Muscles. The more complicated actions involve the co-operation of the brain as well. In this case we have to suppose that FIG. 3 . Sentory Surface Higher Nerve-Centere. \ Lower Nerve-Centers. Muscles. THE SPECIAL ORGANS OF MIND. 25 the sensory stimulation, instead of passing over at once into motor impulse, is propagated further, and engages a larger portion of the central structures. This may be represented by the diagram, Fig 3. Such complicated actions are accompanied by mental activity or consciousness. They may be illustrated by the act of relieving the pressure of a tight boot by stooping and taking it off. This action involves a distinct sensation of pressure, and the action of the will in resolving to get rid of the discomfort. The Special Organs of Mind. We see from this that mental life is connected with the action of the higher centers, or the brain. Only when the brain is called to take part is there any distinct mental accompaniment. The brain thus stands in relation to the lower centers somewhat as the head of an office stands in relation to his subordinates. The mechanical routine of the office is car- ried on by them. He is called on to interfere only when some unusual action has to be carried out, and reflection and decision are needed. Moreover, just as the principal of an office is able to hand over work to his subordinates when it ceases to be unusual and becomes methodized and reduced to rule, so we shall find that the brain or certain portions of it are able to withdraw from actions when they have grown thoroughly familiar. This is illustrated in the actions which we perform with little consciousness because they have become easy and mechanical by repeti- tion and habit. According to this view, the activity of the brain, together with the mental life which accompanies it, intervenes between the action of ex- ternal things on the organism and the active response of this organism, and subserves the higher and more complicated adjustments of mus- cular movement to sensory stimulation. All the earlier and simpler forms of cerebral activity are excited by the action of external sensory stimuli, and are directed to the performance of external actions in the immediate future. The later and more complicated actions of the brain do not conform 2 6 MIND AND BODY. to this description. We carry out many processes of reflection which have nothing to do with the external surroundings of the moment, and which, moreover, are not directed to the immediate realization of any desire or purpose. Much of the intellectual life of educated people is of this internal character. But even this apparently isolated internal activity of the brain may be reduced to the same fundamental type, by considering it as indirectly excited by impressions from without, and as a preparation for remote actions, certain or contingent, in the future. Thus, the study of a science like chemistry or astronomy may be de- scribed as only a high stage of elaboration of materials obtained from sense, and as undertaken because of its remote bearings on our actions. 1 Nature of Nervous Action. The precise nature of nervous action is still a matter of uncertainty. It appears to be some form of molecular movement of a vibratory character, and propagated somewhat in the manner of other vibratory movements, as those of heat and elec^ tricity. The nerve-centers are a storehouse of energy, and their action increases the force of the current of stimulation which passes through them. This originating action of the central structures is known as the nervous discharge, and involves the liberation of energy which was previously stored up in a latent condition. This setting free of nerv- ous energy is effected by a process of disintegration or dis- organization in which the highly organized matter of the brain undergoes chemical changes and enters into com- bination with the oxygen which is brought by the blood. The force thus liberated may accordingly be said to have been supplied by the process of nutrition, and to have be- come latent in the work of building up the organic sub- stance of the brain. The relation between brain-nutrition and brain-action has been illustrated by the following analogy. If we take a number of bricks and set them up on end in a row sufficiently near one another, a slight amount of pressure applied to the first member of the series will cause the whole to fall, each brick adding some- thing to the force of the transmitted impact. Our muscu- MENTAL ACTIVITY AND BRAIN EFFICIENCY, 27 lar work in setting up the bricks was transformed into latent or potential energy, viz., that involved in the un- stable position of the bricks and their liability to fall. According to this analogy, the organic substance of the brain is an unstable compound easily broken up, and so constituting a reservoir of force. We see from this that the nerve-substance is being ever unmade and remade, or disintegrated and redinte- grated ; and, further, that there is a necessary correlation between these two processes of decomposition and repara- tion, so that no nervous action is possible except nutrition has first done its work. Mental Activity and Brain Efficiency. As already pointed out, mental activity is directly connected with the exercise of brain-function. When a child uses his mind in any way, either by trying to learn something or by giving way to great emotional excitement, his brain is at work. The greater the mental activity, the more the resources of the brain are taxed. This activity of the brain necessitates an increased circulation of the blood in the organ, both for supplying the nutritive materials re- quired, and for furthering the process of nervous action itself by an adequate supply of oxygen, and by a suffi- ciently rapid removal of the waste products. If the brain thus furnishes the physical support of mental activity, it is to be expected that this will vary in amount with the state of the organ. And this is what we find. We all know that if the nervous energy is lowered in any way, as by bodily fatigue, grief, etc., the brain re- fuses to work smoothly and easily. On the other hand, the action of stimulants, as alcohol, on the brain illustrates how the mental activity may for a time be raised by add- ing to the excitability, and so intensifying the activity of the brain. The amount of disposable energy in the brain at any time, and the consequent readiness for work, will vary 2 g MIND AND BOD Y. with a number of circumstances, (i) Since the brain and nervous system as a whole are parts of the bodily organ- ism, that is to say, a system of organs closely connected with and powerfully interacting on one another, any con- siderable fluctuation in the condition of one of the other organs will tell on the efficiency of the brain. Thus the special demand on the digestive organs after a good meal, leading to a diversion of blood as well as of nervous ener- gy in that direction, interferes for the time with brain- work. Similarly great muscular exertion militates against mental application. Again, a disturbance of the proper function of the vital organs, such as a fit of indigestion or an impeded circulation of the blood, is known to be an obstacle to mental activity. Once more, all fluctuations in the condition of the organism as a whole, whether the periodic exaltation and depression of the physical powers which constitute the daily vital rhythm of the body, or the irregular changes which we call fluctuations of health, involve the brain as well. The organ of mind shares with the whole body in the vigor and freshness of the morning, and the lassitude of the evening ; and it shares in the fluctuating well-being of the body. Lastly, the mind, in conjunction with the body, passes through the longer pro- cesses of growth and decay which constitute the course of the individual life. Brain- Activity and Brain-Fatigue. (2) While the efficiency of the brain thus depends on the state of the bodily organs, it is affected by the preceding state of the organ itself. Thus, after a period of rest, the nervous substance being duly renewed, there is a special readiness for work. It is this circumstance which explains the in- vigorating effects on the powers of the brain of sound sleep, and of less complete forms of mental repose, such as are found in the lighter intellectual recreations. On the other hand, all brain-work tends to exhaust the nerv- ous energy and so to lower the subsequent efficiency. OVERTAXING THE BRAIN. 2 9 If the work is light in character, the effects are of course less noticeable : nothing like brain-fatigue is induced, and we may be unaware of any falling off in power. On the other hand, after a severe application of the mind, even for a short time, we become distinctly aware of certain sensations of fatigue, as well as of a temporary falling off in vigor. In the case of children, whose stock of brain- vigor i? much smaller, these effects show themselves much sooner. The physiological explanation of these facts is as fol- lows : In the lighter kinds of brain-activity, the consump- tion of brain-material being small, the process of recuper- ation easily k^3ps pace with it. On the other hand, in the heavier sorts of mental work, energy is consumed faster than it can be supplied ; the process of redintegration does not keep pace with that of disintegration. This points to the necessity of a frequent relaxation of the nervous strain, especially at the beginning of school-life. Effects of Brain-Activity on the Organism. But this is not the whole effect of brain-activity. In cases where the powers of the organ are taxed for a prolonged period, other organs are liable to be affected. Thus, since prolonged brain-exercise draws off the blood in too large a quantity to that organ, it is apt to impede the general circulation, and so to give rise to the familiar discomforts of cold feet, etc. Graver results may ensue in the case of the too eager student who by using up nerve-energy too extravagantly in brain-work leaves too little for the other functions of the nervous system, and more particularly the regulation of the vital processes, and so becomes the sub- ject of chronic dyspepsia, etc. We thus see that while the state of the bodily organs influences that of the brain, there is an important reciprocal action of the higher organ on the lower ones. Overtaxing the Brain. It follows from the above remarks that it is possible to exact from the brain more j MIND AND BODY. work than it is good for it to perform. Wherever brain- work is accompanied by a distinct feeling of fatigue, this points to an overstimulation of the organ. By overstimu- lation is meant, first of all, bringing pressure to bear on the brain so as to excite it to activity beyond the point at which recuperation keeps pace with expenditure of energy ; and, secondly, the exercise of the brain disproportionately, that is, in relation to the other organs of the body, more particularly the vital organs. It is exceedingly important to distinguish this second and more profound sense of the term overstimulation from the first. There can be overexercise of the brain when the local symptoms of brain-fatigue are not present. The brain, like the other organs, learns to adapt itself within certain limits to the amount of work required of it. A child, when first subjected to the prolonged and system- atic stimulation of the school, comes in a short time to feel less of the strain of mental application. This may mean a diminution of effort by the normal results of exercise and growth ; but it may also mean that the increased activity of the organ is due to an unfair distribution of the phys- ical energy, the organ of mind being enriched at the expense of the vital organs. Now, this risk is peculiarly great in early life, when a large fund of nutritive material is needed for the processes of growth. Severe exercise of any organ, by using up material in functional action, though it may further the development, i. e., the higher structural condition of that organ, is directly opposed to the grou>th, that is, the ex- pansion in bulk of the body. All severe exercise of the brain in early life is opposed to the laws of development of the child's being. Accord- ing to these the lower vital functions are developed before the higher. First comes the vegetal or nutritive life ; then the common animal life of sense and movement ; and finally the distinctly human life of mind. The develop- VARIATION OF BRAIN-EXERCISE. 3I ment of these higher mental functions is only normal and safe when a firm basis of physical strength and well-being has first been laid down. To try to force on the functions of the brain in advance of those of the vital organs is to endanger the whole organism, and along with this the or- gans of mind themselves.* In thus touching on the risks of educational pressure, it may be well to add that they are susceptible of being overrated as well as underrated. It is an error to suppose that all systematic teaching tends in the direction of over- excitation of the brain. So far from this being the case, it may be confidently said that within certain limits mental occupation is distinctly beneficial to the child. Every organ requires a certain amount of exercise in order to continue in a healthy and vigorous condition. Children deprived of the material for mental activity suffer from tedium, which may be viewed as a symptom that the mind and brain are in need of exercise. Many children have become happier and healthier after entering on school-life, and this not merely because the school supplied healthier physical surroundings, but also because it supplied a healthier regime for the brain. To this is to be added that, as already pointed out, the brain, like other organs, grows stronger by exercise, and within certain limits it is per- fectly safe to carry on a progressively increasing stimula- tion of the organ. Remission and Variation of Brain-Exercise. The great danger, especially with young children, is that of unduly prolonging the duration of the mental strain at one time. A short exertion even of great severity is in- nocuous, whereas an unbroken application of mind to a difficult subject for half an hour or more may be injurious. One of the greatest improvements in modern educational * On the injurious effects of excessive stimulation of the brain in retarding bodily growth, see Herbert Spencer, " Education," chap, iv, p. 165, and following. 3 2 MIND AND BODY.' methods, considered both from a hygienic point of view and from that of mental efficiency itself, is the substitution of short for long lessons, and the frequent alternation of mental and bodily exercise. These breaks, though, in ap- pearance, occasioning a loss of time and adding to the teacher's labors in restoring order and recalling the pupil's minds to the calm attitude of attention, are in reality a true economy of time and force. Since the brain is a complicated group of structures, it is reasonable to suppose that different regions are specially engaged in different kinds of mental activity. And mod- ern science, while rejecting the definite mapping out of the brain functions proposed by the phrenologists, is dis- tinctly tending toward a new and carefully verified theory of localization of function. Adopting this view of brain- action as engaging special centers at different times, we may see that the due variation of school subject owes a part of its value at least to the circumstance that it fulfills in a subordinate manner the purpose of brain-rest. Thus, by passing from an object lesson to a singing lesson, the centers of vision are put into a condition of comparative rest, while other centers, the auditory and vocal, which have been recuperating, are called into play. And as sci- ence enables us to localize the brain functions more ex- actly, the theory of education will probably receive from it further guidance as to the best way of varying school exercises. Differences of Brain-Power The educator should bear in mind that children are endowed with very unequal cerebral capacity. The whole sum of vital force is a dif- ferent one in the case of different children, and the dis- tribution of this among the several organs is also different. Hence, an amount of mental exercise that would be quite safe in one case would be harmful in another. The indi- vidual co-efficient of brain-power is the limit set by nature to the teacher's efforts, and he can not afford to ignore it. DIFFERENCES OF BRAIN-PC WER. 33 This co-efficient determines the amount of mental reaction to external stimulus. Just as one and the same physical stimulus will evoke very unequal amounts of muscular ac- tivity in the case of a vigorous and a feeble body, so the same quantity of intellectual stimulus will call forth very unlike mental reactions in the case of a robust and a weakly brain. This varying co-efficient of brain-power is seen very distinctly in the different rates of mental work of different children. It is not too much to say that the whole range of mental acquisition is in each case fixed from the first by the child's cerebral capacity. APPENDIX. The connection of body and mind is handled by Dr. Bastian, " The Brain as an Organ of Mind"; Dr. Maudsley, "The Physiology of Mind " ; and Dr. Bain, " Mind and Body." The educational bearings of the subject are brought out in Dr. A. Combe's " Principles of Physi- ology " ; in Mr. Spencer's " Education," chap, iv ; Dr. Bain's " Educa- tion as a Science," chap, ii ; and in a number of recent publications on Physical Education. See especially the essay on " Education and the Nervous System," by Sir J. Crichton Browne, in " The Book of Health." CHAPTER IV. KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. Mental Phenomena and Operations. As was pointed out above, mental science consists of an orderly arrangement of the general truths, or laws which relate to mental phenomena. In order to arrive at these truths, we have first to ascertain what our phenomena are, and to arrange them in general groups or classes, based on funda- mental points of likeness. Mental phenomena are known by different names. They are commonly called states of mind, or states of consciousness. Since, however, they are phenomena in time, having a certain duration and a succession of parts, they are just as often spoken of as mental processes or operations. It is important, further, to distinguish be- tween a mental process or operation and its result or prod- uct. Thus we distinguish between a process of percep- tion, and its result, a percept ; a process of association and suggestion, and its product, a recollection ; between an operation called reasoning and its result, rational convic- tion, and so forth. Classification of Mental Operations. If we com- pare our mental states at different times, we find them presenting very different characters. Sometimes we de- scribe ourselves as experiencing feelings of joy, grief, etc., at other times as thinking about a matter, and so forth. And, if we look more closely at the contents of our mind THREE ASPECTS OF MIND. 35 at one and the same time, we are commonly able to dis- tinguish between different ingredients, as emotions, recol- lections, desires. Common thought has long since distinguished between different classes or varieties of mental operation. Scien- tific research carries this process further, and seeks to reach the most fundamental differences among our mental operations. This is commonly described as dividing mind into its fundamental functions, and also as analyzing it into its elements. If we examine the every-day distinctions of popular psychology, we find that there are three fairly clear divis- ions which do not seem to have anything in common be- yond being all modes of mental activity. Thus we ordi- narily describe such activities as perceiving, remembering, and reasoning, as intellectual operations. So, again, we bring sorrow, joy, love, anger, and so on, under the general description of feeling or emotion. And, finally, we gather up operations like purposing, deliberating, doing things, under the head of will. We broadly mark off these three sides of mind, and talk of men as exhibiting now one and now another aspect. Feeling, Knowing, and Willing. Mental science adopts this three-fold division, (i) Under Feeling we include all pleasurable and painful conditions of mind. These may be very simple feelings, having definite bodily causes, such as the painful sensations of hunger and thirst, or the pleasures of the palate. Or they may be of a more complex nature, such as love, or remorse. (2) Knowing, again, includes all operations which are directly involved in gaining knowledge, as, for example, observing what is present to the senses, recalling the past, and reasoning. (3) Finally, Willing or Acting covers all active mental operations, all our conscious doings, such as walking, speaking, attending to things, together with efforts to do things, active impulses and resolutions. The perfect type 36 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. of action is doing something for an end or purpose ; and this is what we ordinarily mean by a voluntary action. Opposition between Knowing, Feeling, and Willing. These three kinds of mental state are, as we have seen, in general clearly marked off one from another. A child in a state of strong emotional excite- ment contrasts with a child calmly thinking about some- thing, or another child exerting his active powers in doing something. If we take any one of these aspects of mind in a well-marked form, we see that it is opposed to the other aspects. Thus strong feeling is opposed to and precludes at the time calm thinking (recollecting, reason- ing), as well as regulated action (will). Similarly, the intellectual state of remembering or reasoning when fully developed at the moment is opposed to feeling and to doing. The mind can not exhibit each variety of function in a marked degree at the same time. This opposition may be seen in another way. If we compare, not different states of the same mind, but differ- ent minds as a whole, we often find now one kind of mental state or operation, now another in the ascendant. Minds marked by much feeling (sensitive, emotional na- tures) commonly manifest less of the intellectual and voli- tional aspects or properties. Similarly, minds of a high degree of intellectual capability (inquiring or inquisitive minds), or of much active endowment (active minds), are as a rule relatively weak in the other kinds of endowment. It follows from this that the training of the mind in any one of its three functions is to some extent a separate matter. Thus, intellectual education has its separate end, viz., the production of a quick, unerring intelligence, which end involves no proportionate development of the feelings or of the will. Connection between Knowing, Feeling, and Willing. Yet while knowing, feeling, and willing are thus broadly marked off from, and even opposed to, one CONNECTION OF THESE ACTIVITIES. 37 another, they are in another way closely connected. A mind is not a material object which can be separated into distinct parts, but an organic unity made up of parts standing in the closest relation of interdependence. If we closely examine any case of feeling, we are sure to find some intellectual and volitional accompaniments. Thus when we experience a bodily pain (feeling), we instantly localize the pain or recognize its seat (knowledge), and endeavor to alleviate it (volition). Most of our feelings, as we shall see, are wrapped up with or embodied in intel- lectual states (perceiving, remembering, etc.). Again, intellectual operations, observing, thinking, etc., are com- monly accompanied by some shade of agreeable or dis- agreeable feeling, and they always involve voluntary ac- tivity in the shape of attention or concentration of mind. Finally, willing depends on feeling for its motive or im- pelling force, and on knowledge for its illumination or guidance. It will be seen from this that our threefold division of mind is a division according to the fundamentally distinct aspects which predominate at different times. Thus by intellectual states or processes we mean those modes of mental activity in which the cognitive function is most marked and prominent. This fact of the invariable concomitance of the three mental functions is of capital importance to the teacher. Misled by our habits of analysis, and our abstract ways of thinking, we are apt to suppose that in training the intel- lectual faculties we may disregard the emotional and voli- tional element altogether. But a deeper insight into the organic unity of mind corrects this error. One great law governing our intellectual activity is that we attend to what interests us, that is, to what excites feeling in some way and, through this, arouses the energies of the will. And just as educators have sometimes failed to make the best of children's intellectual powers, by overlooking the 38 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. . necessary accompaniments of feeling and will, so they have failed to develop the highest type of will and char- acter, because they have not recognized the dependence of this on a certain mode of intelligence, and on the de- velopment of particular emotions. Species of Knowing, Feeling, and Willing : Mental Faculties. Popular psychology recognizes cer- tain divisions or species of knowing, feeling, and willing under the head of faculties, capabilities, or powers. More particularly we speak of intellectual faculties such as perception and imagination ; emotional capacities, or sus- ceptibilities, as love, anger ; and active powers and dispo- sitions, such as movement, choice, industry. These distinctions are valid so far as they go. The psychologist allows that perceiving and remembering differ in certain important respects. The first operation con- tains elements (e. g., actual sense-impressions) which the second does not contain. Thus there is a real psychologi- cal distinction involved, and the psychologist will find it here as elsewhere convenient to make this popularly recog- nized distinction the starting-point in a scientific treatment of the phenomena of mind. In adopting these popular distinctions, however, the psychologist must not be taken to imply that the several processes of perceiving, remembering, etc., are distinct one from the other fundamentally, that is to say, with respect to their elementary parts. While we set out with these well-marked divisions of faculty, we seek to discover by a deeper psychological analysis certain more fundamental or primary distinctions, and to regard such differences as those between perceiving and remembering as second- ary. Primary Intellectual Functions. The essential operation in all varieties of knowing is the detecting of relations between things. I know a tree, a period of English history, a demonstration in Euclid, when I know INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES. 39 its several parts in relation one to another, and also its relations as a whole to other things. The most compre- hensive relations are difference or unlikeness and agree- ment or likeness. All knowing means discriminating one impression, object, or idea from another (or others), and assimilating it to yet another (or others). I perceive an object as a rose only when I distinguish its several parts and features one from another ; and when, further, I see how it differs from other objects, and more especially other varieties of flower, and at the same time recognize its likeness to other roses previously seen. And so of other forms of knowing. Hence, discrimination and as- similation may be viewed as the primary functions of intellect. While these two primary functions constitute the main factor in intellectual operations, the exercise of them presupposes other capabilities. Thus the power of taking apart the objects presented to the mind, and confining the attention to certain details or particu- lars (analysis), together with the supplementary power of mentally grasping a number of objects together at the same time (synthesis), is clearly implied in all knowing. This power will be dealt with under the head of attention. In addition to this, there is the mind's capaci- ty of retention, that is, of conserving past impressions and recalling them for future use. Unless we could thus retain impressions, we should be unable to bring together before ihe mind facts lying in different regions of our experience, and so discover their relations. Moreover, the abiding knowledge of any subject plainly implies the re- tention of what we have learned. Individual Differences of Mental Capability. The several mental operations do not present themselves in precisely the same manner in all minds. They vary in certain respects, and these variations are referred to differences of mental power or capacity. Now, as we have seen, psychology as science has to do with the gen- eral facts and truths of mind. It takes no account of individual peculiarities. Nevertheless, the practical im- portance of estimating individual differences has led psy- 40 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. chologists to pay considerable attention to this concrete branch of their subject. And the foregoing analysis of mental functions prepares the way for a scientific classifi- cation of individual differences. There are different ways in which individual minds vary. Thus, one mind may differ from another in respect of one whole phase or side. For example, we speak of one child as more intellectual or more inquiring than another. Similarly, one child is said to have more emotional sus- ceptibility or more active impulse or will than another. Again, we may make our comparison more narrow, and observe how one mind differs from another with re- spect to a special mode of intellectual (or other) activity. Thus, to find that individuals vary in respect of one of the primary intellectual functions, that one has a finer sense of difference or a keener sense of resemblance than an- other. Or, once more, we may note and record differ- ences in the strength of some particular faculty, as obser- vation, or reason. Or, lastly, we may distinguish yet more narrowly, comparing individuals with respect to some special mode of operation of a faculty, as perception of form, or memory for words. In like manner we can distinguish between different degrees of strength of a special emotion, as anger or affec- tion, or of a particular active endowment, as endurance. All the innumerable differences which characterize in- dividual minds must ultimately resolve themselves into these modes. The problem of measuring these individual differences with something like scientific exactness will occupy us later on. Truths or Laws of Mind. The classification of mental states prepares the way for ascertaining the gen- eral truths of mind. The most comprehensive of these truths are known as laws of mind. These laws aim at setting forth in the most general form the way in which mental states are connected one with another, and particu- CONDITIONS OF MENTAL ACTIVITY. 41 larly the way in which they succeed and act upon one an- other. The law that governs any mental operation unfolds the circumstances necessary to its accomplishment, in other words, its causal antecedents or conditions. It thus helps us to explain or account for the operation in any particular case. Here, too, mental science is seeking to improve on pop- ular psychology ; for observation has long since taught men that mental products, such as knowledge and charac- ter, presuppose certain antecedent circumstances and in- fluences. This is seen in the common sayings about mind and character, such as " Experience is the best teacher," "Love is blind," " First impressions last longest," etc. General Conditions of Mental Activity. Some of these laws of mind embody the general conditions of mental operations, whether those of feeling, knowing, or willing. Reference has already been made to the com- mon physiological conditions of mental operations, viz., a vigorous state of the brain, etc. Among general mental conditions, attention is by far the most important. Atten- tion is presupposed alike in all clear knowing, vivid feel- ing, and energetic willing. The laws of attention, to be spoken of presently, are thus in a manner laws of mind as a whole. Conditions of Knowing, Feeling:, and Willing. Next to these universal conditions, there are the more special ones of knowing, of feeling, and of willing. Thus the laws of mental reproduction, or the revival of impres- sions, are in a peculiar manner laws of intellect. Similar- ly, there are laws of feeling which seek to formulate the conditions of pleasure and pain, as well as the effects of feeling on the thoughts and beliefs. Finally, we have special laws of willing, as, for example, that action varies with the intensity of motive force applied, that proximate satisfactions excite the will more powerfully than remote ones. It is to be added that in assigning the special con- 42 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. ditions of feeling, knowing, and willing, we should refer to the particular nervous structures engaged, so far as these are known. As truths of mind still more special, we have the enu- meration of the several conditions of a particular variety of operation, such as the intellectual act of observation or imagination. This gives us the law of operation of that particular faculty. Thus we explain or account for ob- servation by specifying its conditions, external and internal, such as the favorable position of the object, some special interest in it, etc. Here, too, we must include in our sur- vey the regions of the nervous system specially engaged. As already observed, this enumeration of co-operating conditions must in certain cases embrace remote as well as immediate antecedents. Thus, to account for a recol- lection, we need to refer not only to the suggestive forces acting at the time, but also to the influence of past ex- perience in associating that which suggests with that which it suggests. For a complete understanding of the way in which any variety of mental product arises, we need to take into ac- count the action of the whole mental state at the time, so far as it is favorable or unfavorable. Thus, calmness of mind, freedom from emotional excitement, and preoccu- pation of the attention, is an important negative condition of the more difficult intellectual processes. Finally, among the conditions of a perfect discharge of any mental function we presuppose a mind in which this power is strong and well developed. And it is often well to specify this. Thus, in setting forth the conditions of retention under any of its forms, such as the recollection of colors or places, we may specify a good natural reten- tive power in that particular direction. Importance of understanding the Conditions of Mental Activity. The understanding of the laws that control the various forms of mental activity is a matter of KNOWLEDGE REQUIRED BY THE TEACHER. 43 special consequence to the teacher. As already observed, we can only bring about any intellectual or other mental product when we see clearly into the conditions on which it depends. The educator, in seeking to exercise some faculty, say observation, is coming into a certain rapport with the pupil's mind. This relation is not like that of an external mechanical force to a passive material, as clay or sealing-wax. The teacher only succeeds in doing any- thing when he calls forth the learner's own mental activity. The very idea of stimulating the mind implies that the external agent calls forth a mental reaction, that is, ex- cites the mind to its appropriate form of activity. Hence, the teacher needs to have, at the outset, the clearest knowl- edge as to what this activity is, and what laws it uniformly obeys. Thus, for example, he requires to understand what the mind really does when it thoroughly grasps and assimi- lates a new truth. In the process of stimulating the mind the teacher ne- cessarily employs certain agencies, and it is of the greatest importance that he rightly understand their precise effect in furthering the mental activity he would excite. Thus, in giving a child verses to commit to memory, he should know to what extent and in what precise manner this em- ployment exercises the memory. And this he can only do when he has a clear scientific insight into the nature of the faculty and the laws of its operation. It is of great im- portance, too, that he should understand in what ways his appliances are liable to be counteracted by other influ- ences, such as an unfavorable state of the pupil's mind at the moment. In the appliances brought to bear by the educator there are two things to be distinguished : first of all, the material supply on which the pupil's mind is to exercise itself ; and, secondly, the motive force brought to bear in order to in- duce the learner to apply his mind to the subject. A wise choice of material presupposes a certain knowledge of the 44 KNOWING, FEELING, AND WILLING. intellectual faculties, and the laws which govern their op- eration. A wise selection of motive presupposes no less accurate a knowledge of the laws that rule in the domain of the feelings and the will. APPENDIX. The reader who desires to read further on the threefold division of mind is referred to my " Outlines of Psychology," chap, ii, and Ap- pendix B ; also, to the works of Sir W. Hamilton and Dr. Bain, there quoted, and to Dr. Ward's article " Psychology," in the " Encyclopaedia Britannica." On the corresponding divisions of educational work and the con- nections between them, the reader should consult Waitz, " Allgemeine Padagogik," 6; Dr. F. Dittes, " Grundriss der Erziehungs- und Unterrichtslehre," 23, 24, and 86. CHAPTER V. MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. Mental Development defined. In the last chaptei- we were concerned with ascertaining the nature and con- ditions of the several kinds of mental operation, without any reference to the time of life at which they occur. But mental operations differ greatly in different periods of life, owing to what we call the growth or d :velopment of faculty or capacity. We have now to consider this far-reaching process of mental growth. We shall seek to distinguish between the successive stages of mental life, and point out how these are related one to the other. By so doing we may. hope to account not merely for the single operations of a faculty, but for the mature faculty itself, viewed as the result of a process of growth. This part of our subject constitutes the theory of mental development. When speaking of the physical organism, we distin- guish between growth and development. The former is mere increase of size or bulk ; the latter consists of structural changes (increase of complexity). While growth and development usually run on together, there is no proper parallelism between them. Thus, in abnormal growth, development is hindered. And an organ, as the brain, may develop long after it has ceased to grow. It is possible to apply this analogy to mind. We may say that mind grows when it increases its stock of materials. It develops in so far as its materials are elaborated into 46 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. higher and more complex forms. Mere growth of mind would thus be illustrated by an increase in the bulk of mental retentions, that is, in the contents of memory : de- velopment, by the ordering of these contents in their re- lations of difference and likeness, and so on. But in general the two terms, mental growth and mental develop- ment, may be used as interchangeable. The characteristics of mental development are best seen in the case of the intellect. The growth of knowl- edge may be viewed in different ways : (i) Under one aspect it is a gradual progress from vague to distinct knowledge. The perceptions and ideas grow more defi- nite. This may be called intellectual differentiation. (2) Again, it is a progress from simple to complex processes. There is a continual grouping or integration of elements into organic compounds. In this way the child's knowl- edge of whole localities, of series of events, and so forth, arises. (3) Once more, it is a continual movement from external sense to internal thought or reflection. Or, as it is commonly described, it is a transition from the presenta- tive, or what is directly presented to the mind through sense, to the representative ', that which is indirectly set before the mind by the aid of internal ideas. (4) Lastly, this progress from sense to thought is a transition from the knowledge of individuals to that of general classes, or from a knowledge of concrete things to that of their ab- stract qualities.* This aggregate of changes, which constitutes the growth of mind, appears to resolve itself into two parts. On the one hand we see that the several faculties which operate in the case of the child have expanded and increased in vigor. On the other hand we notice that new faculties, * Reference is made here only to knowledge of outer things. As will be seen by-and-by, the growth of self-knowledge illustrates the same movement from outer sense to internal reflection, from the con- crete to the abstract. UNFOLDING OF FACULTIES. 47 the germs of which are hardly discoverable in the child, have acquired strength. We see, that is to say, that while the faculties have each grown singly, there has been a certain order of unfolding among them, so that some have reached mature vigor before others. Growth of Faculty. The growth or improvement of a faculty includes three things, or may be regarded under three aspects : (i) Old operations become more perfect, and also more easy and rapid. Thus the recog- nition of an individual object, as a person's face, as also the recalling of it when absent, tends to become more dis- tinct, as well as easier, with the repetition of the opera- tion. This is improvement of a faculty in a definite direction. (2) New operations of a similar grade of com- plexity will also grow easier. Thus the improvement of the observing powers (perception) includes a growing facility in noting and recognizing unfamiliar objects ; that of memory includes a greater readiness in retaining and recalling new impressions. This is improvement of a faculty generally. (3) This general improvement is com- pleted by the attainment of the capability of executing more complex, intricate, and difficult operations. Thus the growth of memory means the progress of the capa- bility as shown in retaining and recalling less striking im- pressions and larger and more complex groups of impres- sions. Order of Development of Faculties. One of the most valuable doctrines of modern psychology is that there is a uniform order of development of the faculties. There is a well-marked order in the growth of intellect. (i) The process of attaining knowledge sets out with sensation, or the reception of external impressions by the mind. Sense supplies the materials which the intellect assimilates and elaborates according to its own laws. Before we can know anything about the material objects which surround us they must impress our mind through 4 g MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. the senses (sight, touch, hearing, etc.). (2) Sensation is followed by perception, in which a number of impressions are grouped together under the form of a percept, or an immediate apprehension of some thing or object, as when we see and recognize an orange or a bell. (3) After per- ception comes representative imagination, in which the mind pictures, or has an image of, what has been per- ceived. It may represent this either in the original form (reproductive imagination), as when we recall the face of a friend ; or in a new form (constructive imagination), as when we imagine some historical personage. (4) Finally, we have general or abstract knowing, otherwise marked off as thinking. This includes conception, or the forma- tion of concepts or general notions out of percepts and images, such as "metal," "organism," "life," and so on ; judgment, or the combination of concepts, as when we assert that no men are omniscient ; and reasoning, or the combination of judgments, as when we conclude that a particular writer, say a journalist, is not omniscient, be- cause no men are so. Unity of Intellectual Development. It has already been pointed out that modern psychology seeks to reduce the several operations of perception, imagination, etc., to certain fundamental processes, of which discrimination and assimilation are the most important. By help of this deeper analysis of intellectual activity we are able to re- gard the successive unfoldings of the faculties as one con- tinuous process. The higher and more complex opera- tions of thought now appear as only different modes of the same fundamental functions of intellect that underlie the lower and simpler operations of sense-perception. Thus the simplest germ of knowing involves the discrimi- nation of sense-impression ; and the highest form of know- ing, abstract thinking, is a higher manifestation of the same power. Again, the perception of a single object is a process of assimilating present to past impressions ; and STRENGTHENING OF FACULTY. 49 abstract thinking is assimilating or classing many objects under certain common aspects. We may thus say that the several -stages of knowing, viz., perception, conception, and so on, illustrate the same fundamental activities of intellect employed about more and more complex mate- rials (sensations, percepts, ideas, etc.). We thus see that there are no breaks in the process of intellectual development. It is one continuous process, from its simplest to its most complex phase. The distinc- tions between perception, imagination, etc., though of great practical convenience, as roughly marking the successive stages of growth, must not be taken as answering to sharp divisions. The movement of intellectual progress is not a series of separate leaps, but one unbroken and even movement. Growth and Exercise of Faculty. The great law underlying these processes of development is that the faculties or functions of intellect are strengthened by ex- ercise. Thus the power of observation (perception), of detecting differences among colors, forms, and so on, im- proves by the repeated exercise of this power. Each suc- cessive operation tends to improve the faculty, and more particularly in the particular direction in which it is exer- cised. Thus, if the power of observation is exercised with respect to colors, it will be strengthened more especially in this direction, but not to the same extent in other di- rections, e. g., with respect to forms. Again, since perception, conception, and so forth, are only different modes of the same intellectual functions, the exercise of these in the lower form prepares the way for the higher manifestations. Thus, in training the senses, we are calling into play the power of analyzing a complex whole into its parts, also the functions of discrimination and assimilation, and so are laying the foundations of the higher intellectual culture. On the other hand, we must not suppose that by merely exercising the observing powers 4 5 o MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. we can secure a development of the powers of abstract thought. In order that the successive phases of intelli- gence may unfold themselves, the separate exercise of the fundamental functions in each of these phases is necessary. That is to say, we require a special training for each of the faculties in due order. Growth and Retentiveness. This growth of intel- lect by exercise implies retentiveness. By this term, in its widest signification, is meant that every operation of mind leaves a trace behind it, which constitutes a disposition to perform the same operation or same kind of operation again. This truth obviously underlies the generalization, " Exercise strengthens faculty." The increased power of observation, for example, due to repeated exercises of the faculty, can only be accounted for by saying that each successive exercise modifies the mind, adding to its capa- bility of acting, and strengthening its tendency to act in that particular mode. Growth and Habit. This persistence of traces, and formation of a disposition to think, feel, etc., in the same way as before underlies what we call habit. By this term, in its most comprehensive sense, is meant a fixed tendency to think, feel, or act in a particular way under special cir- cumstances. The formation of habits is a very important ingredient of what we mean by intellectual development ; but it is not all that is so meant. Habit refers rather to the fixing of mental operations in particular directions. Taken in this narrow sense, habit is in a manner opposed to growth. By following out a train of ideas again and again in a certain way, we lose the capability of varying this order, of re-adapting the combination to new circum- stances. Habit is thus the element of persistence, of cus- tom, the conservative tendency; whereas growth implies flexibility, modifiability, susceptibility to new impressions, \hzprogressive tendency. We shall again and again have to distinguish between the effect of habit, as understood in GROUPING OF PARTS. 5 ! this narrow sense, and development in the full sense, as a wide or many-sided progress. The importance of the principle of habit will be illustrated more especially in the domain of action.* In order that the intellectual powers as a whole may be exercised and grow, a higher form of retentiveness is needed. The traces of the products of intellectual activity must accumulate and appear under the form of revivals or reproductions. The impressions of sense, when discrimi- nated, are in this way recalled as mental images. This retention and revival of the products of the early sense- discrimination is clearly necessary to the higher operations of thought. Images, though the product of elementary processes of discrimination and assimilation, supply in their turn the material for the more elaborate processes of thought. We thus see that the growing complexity of the intellectual life depends on the accumulation of innumer- able traces of past and simpler products of intellectual activity. Grouping of Parts: Laws of Association. Closely connected with this fundamental property of re- tentiveness, there is another involved in this process of intellectual development. The growth of intellect, as we have seen, leads to an increasing complexity of the prod- ucts. This means that the several elements are com- bined or grouped in certain ways. This grouping goes on according to the laws of association. These laws will be fully discussed by-and-by. Here it is enough to say that there are two principal modes of grouping, and corre- * The term habit is commonly confined to actions which have grown customary, and so mechanical. But the principle of habit is illustrated in each of the three directions of mental development. Some writers distinguish between passive habits, the effects of custom on feeling, and active habits, its effects on action. In connection with education, Locke uses the term habit generally as expressing the result of practice. See " Thoughts concerning Education," edited by Rev. R. H. Quick ; In- troduction, p. liv. 52 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. spending laws of association of mental elements, (a) according to their nearness or contiguity in time, and (b} according to their similarity. The first mode will be the one principally illustrated in the earlier stages of develop- ment (perception and imagination) ; the second, the one mainly concerned in the later stages (thought). Development of Feeling and Willing. While, for the sake of simplicity, we have confined our attention to the development of intellect, it is necessary to add that the same features and the same underlying principles are dis- coverable in the growth of feeling and will. The earlier feelings (bodily pleasures and pains) are simple and closely connected with the senses : the higher feelings (emotions) are complex and representative in character. Again, the first actions (bodily movements) are simple and external, being immediate responses to sense-impressions, whereas the later are complex, internal and representative (choosing, resolving, etc.). It will be found, further, that there is a continuity of process throughout the develop- ment of each. And the same laws or conditions, growth by exercise, retentiveness and association, are illustrated here as in the case of intellectual development. Interdependence of Processes. We have so far viewed the growth of intellect, of feeling, and of volition as processes going on apart, independently of one another. And this is in a measure a correct assumption. It has, however, already been pointed out that mind is an organic unity, and that the processes of knowing, feeling, and will- ing in a measure involve one another. It follows from this that the developments of these phases of mind will be closely connected. Thus, intellectual development presup- poses a certain measure of emotional and volitional devel- opment. There would be no attainments in knowledge if the connected interest (curiosity, love of knowledge) and active impulses (concentration, application) had not been developed. Similarly, there can be no development of the GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT. 53 life of feeling without a considerable accumulation of knowledge about Nature and man ; nor can there be any development of action without a development of feel- ing and the accumulation of a store of practical knowl- edge. The mind may develop much more on one side than on the others, but development on one side without any development on the others is an impossibility. This connectedness of one side of development with the others may be illustrated in the close dependence of intellectual growth on the exercise and improvement of the power of attention. Though related to the active or volitional side of mind, attention is a prime condition of intellectual operations. Mental activity includes in every case some form of attention ; and the higher kinds of mental activity illustrate the full exercise of the will in the shape of an effort of concentration. This being so, intellectual growth, which, as we have seen, is the imme- diate outcome of mental activity, is closely dependent on the development of will. It is the improvement of the power of voluntary concentration which makes success- ively possible accurate observation, steady reproduction, and all that we mean by thinking. This dependence of one phase of mental development on the other phases is not, however, equally close in all cases. Thus the growth of knowing involves compara- tively little of the emotional and volitional element. The growth of feeling in its higher forms involves considerable intellectual development, but no corresponding degree of volitional development. Finally, the growth of will is largely dependent on that of knowing and feeling. Hence, in the order of exposition, we set out with the development of knowing, passing then to that of feeling, and finally to that of willing. Growth and Development of the Brain. Just as, in studying mental operations at a particular time, we have to include in our view nervous concomitants, so in 54 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. studying mental de/elopment we must ask what changes in the nervous organism, and more particularly in the brain-centers, accompany these psychical changes. The brain, like all other parts of the organism, grows in bulk or size, and develops or manifests certain changes in its formation or structure, viz. : increasing unlikeness of parts and intricacy of arrangements among these. The two processes, growth and development, do not progress with the same degree of rapidity. The size nearly attains its maximum about the end of the seventh year, whereas the degree of structural development reached at this time is not much above that of the embryonic condition.* It may be added that the higher centers of thought and vo- lition develop later than those of sensation. The brain, being an organ closely connected with the rest of the bodily organism, would tend to grow to a cer- tain extent with the growth of the organism as a whole, and independently of any activity of its own. But such growth would be rudimentary only. Like all other organs, it grows and develops by exercise. This physiological law is clearly the counterpart of the psychological law that exercise strengthens faculty. Such exercises tend to modify the brain structures in some way, so as to dis- pose them afterward to act more readily in the same man- ner. 8 Factors in Development. The process of mental growth just traced out is brought about by the co-opera- tion of two sets of agencies or factors the mind itself which develops, and the circumstances necessary to its development. These may be marked off as the internal and the external factor. (A) Internal Factor. This consists first of all of the simple and fundamental capabilities of the mind. Thus it includes the several simple modes of sensibility to light, sound, and so on. Further, it embraces the fun- * See Bastian, " The Brain as an Organ of Mind," p. 375. THE SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT. 55 damental intellectual functions, discrimination, and assim- ilation. In like manner it will include the primary or fundamental capacities of feeling, and powers of willing. The internal factor includes, too, the mind's native im- pulse to activity and spontaneous tendency to develop- ment. (B) External Factor, (i) Natural Environ- ment. In the second place, the development of an indi- vidual mind implies the presence and co-operation of the external factor, or the environment. By this we mean, in the first place, the physical environment or natural sur- roundings. The growth of intelligence presupposes a world of sights and sounds, etc., to supply the materials of knowledge. The mind of a child deprived of these would languish for want of its appropriate nutriment. Similarly, the development of the feelings, for example, of fear, awe, the sense of beauty, etc., depends on the pres- ence and action of natural objects. Finally, the will is called forth to activity by the action of the forces of the natural environment, and by the need of reacting on it and modifying it. (2) The Social Environment. In addition to what we commonly call the natural or physical environ- ment, there is the human and social environment. By this we mean the society of which the individual is a member, with which he holds certain relations, and by which he is profoundly influenced. The social medium, like the phys- ical, affects the individual mind through sense-impres- sions (sights and sounds) ; yet its action differs from that of the natural surroundings in being a moral influence. It works through the forces which bind the individual to other individuals and to the community, such as imita- tion, sympathy, and the sentiment of obedience or author- ity. The presence of a social medium is necessary to a full normal development of mind. If it were possible to main- 5 6 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. tain a child in bodily health and at the same time deprive him of all companionship, his mental development would be but rudimentary. The child comes under the stimulation, the guidance, and the control of others, and these influ- ences are essential to a normal mental development. Thus, his intellectual growth is determined by continual contact and interaction with the social intelligence, the body of knowledge amassed by the race, and expressed in every- day speech, in books, etc. Similarly, the feelings of the child quicken and grow under the touch of social senti- ment. And finally the will is called forth, stimulated and guided by the habitual modes of action of those about him. These social influences embrace a wider area as life pro- gresses. Beginning with the action of the family, they go on expanding by including the influences of the school, of companions, and finally of the whole community, as work- ing through manners, public opinion, and so forth. Undesigned and Designed Influence of Society. A part of this social influence acts undesignedly, that is, without any intention to accomplish a result. The ef- fects of contact of mind with mind, of example, of the pre- vailing tone of a family or a society, all this resembles the action of natural or physical agencies. On the other hand, a considerable remainder of this influence is clearly de- signed. To this part belong all the mechanism of instruc- tion, the arts of suasion, moral and legal control, etc. Both kinds of social influence co-operate in each of the three great phases of mental development. Thus the in- tellect of a child grows partly under the influence of con- tact with the social intelligence reflecting itself in the structure of language ; and partly by the aid of systematic instruction. Similarly, feeling develops partly through the mere contact with other minds, or the agencies of sympa- thy, and partly by direct appeals from others. Finally, the will develops partly by the attraction of example and the impulses of imitation, and partly by the forces of sua- VARIETIES OF DEVELOPMENT. 57 sion, advice, reproof, and the whole system of moral dis- cipline. Scheme of Development. The reader may perhaps be able the better to comprehend the above rough theory of mental development by help of the following diagram : FIG. 4. Varieties of Development. While all normally constituted minds pass through the same typical course of development, there are endless differences in the details of the mental history of individuals. In no two cases, indeed, is the process of mental growth precisely similar. These diversities of mental history answer to the differ- ences between mind and mind spoken of in the previous chapter. Such differences of development may be referred to one or two causes of factors : (a) variations or inequali- 58 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. ties of original capacity, or (b) differences in the external circumstances, physical and social. All differences in the final result, that is, the mature or developed aptitude or capacity, must be assignable to one (or both) cf these fac- tors. It is important to observe that differences of original capacity include all inequalities in mental energy and capability of development. As every teacher knows, the instruments of education applied to two children, at ap- proximately the same level of attainment, result in widely unlike amounts of progress. Such inequalities in capa- bility of mental growth turn mainly on differences in the degree of mental activity, and, next to this, on different degrees of retentive power. Differences of Original Capacity. In ascertaining these we must be careful to separate off only what is strictly original, and not in any measure the result of pre- vious training or other kind of external influence. Now, we can not altogether eliminate the effect of early influ- ences ; yet we can reduce this to a minimum by taking the child soon enough, or by selecting for our experiment a sufficiently new mode of mental operation. Such a method of comparative measurement applied to young children would undoubtedly confirm the every- day observation of parents and teachers alike, that chil- dren are at birth endowed with very unequal degrees of capacity of different kinds. Each individual has his par- ticular proportion of aptitudes and tendencies, which con- stitute his nature or his natural character, as distinguished from his later and partly acquired character. This nat- ural character is doubtless very closely connected with the peculiar make of his bodily, and more particularly his nervous organism. The condition of the sense-organs, of the brain, of the muscular system, and even of the lower vital organs, all serves to determine what we call the na- tive idiosyncrasy or temperament of the individual. COMMON AND SPECIAL HEREDITY. 59 The Law of Heredity. According to modern sci- ence these original differences are, in part at least, illustra- tions of the principle of heredity. This principle states that physical and mental peculiarities tend to be trans- mitted from parents to children. Just as bodily features reappear in parents and children, so intellectual and moral traits persist in the shape of inherited mental dispositions. These are handed down in connection with certain pecul- iarities of the brain and nervous system. Common and Special Heredity. The principle of heredity manifests itself in different ways. In one sense we may say that our common human nature, with its typical physical organism and its several mental suscepti- bilities and capabilities, is inherited, that is, transmitted to each new member of the species. But, as customarily employed, the term heredity refers to the transmission of physical or mental peculiarities which have somehow been acquired by the individual's ancestors. This trans- mission of acquired characteristics assumes a wider or a narrower form. Its widest range is seen in the alleged fact that the offspring of civilized races have from the first a higher intellectual and moral endowment than those of uncivilized, having certain original or instinctive disposi- tions to think, feel, and act in the ways that have become habitual with civilized mankind. According to this view, as civilization progresses and education improves, native capacity tends to slowly increase, and this gradual increase constitutes one factor in the upward progress of the spe- cies. Again, members of one particular race or national- ity, as Celts or Frenchmen, appear to inherit distinct phys- ical and mental traits. Still more plainly the members of one family may often be observed to present similar mental as well as bodily characteristics through a number of generations. These mental peculiarities are partly in- tellectual, partly emotional, and partly active, referring to differences in strength of will, etc. An interesting exam- 60 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. pie of this is occasionally to be met with in the transmis- sion of a definite kind of talent through generations of a given family, as, for example, of musical talent in the Bach family.* It is evident, however, that the members of one family show marked diversities as well as similarities. We often remark very striking contrasts of ideas, feelings, ^nd incli- nations among children of the same family. Such con- trasts may sometimes be only another illustration of the action of heredity, some members of the family represent- ing certain ancestral traits, other members, other traits. But this can not be safely maintained in the majority of instances. In the present stage of our knowledge of the subject, heredity only helps us to account for a compara- tively few among the host of peculiarities which go to make up the natural basis of an individual character. We have to recognize along with this another tendency, namely, to individual variation. Varieties of External Influence. While original peculiarities of nature or temperament thus play a consid- erable part in individual development, they are not the sole agency at work. Differences in the surroundings, physical and still more social, have a good deal to do with the differences of ability and character that we find among individuals. The important thing to bear in mind here is that no two individuals ever come under the same influences. Even twins, who are born into the same family at the same time, have an unlike social environment from the first. Their own mother is hardly likely to feel toward them or to treat them in quite the same way ; and others show this divergence of feeling and behavior very much more. As life progresses, the sum of external influences, serving to * For fuller illustrations of such transmission of definite ability, see Mr. F. Galton's work, " Hereditary Genius " ; cf. Prof. Th. Ribot's volume, " On Heredity." VARIETIES OF EXTERNAL INFLUENCE. 6 1 differentiate individual character, increases. The school, the place of business, the circle of friends, and so on, all help to give a peculiar stamp to the individual mind. That even such slight differences in surroundings must produce an effect follows from psychological laws. The mind grows on what it assimilates. The lines of its growth will be to some extent predetermined by innate capabili- ties and tendencies ; but these only broadly limit the pro- cess, they do not fix its precise character. The particular ideas and connections of ideas formed, the intellectual habits fixed, the peculiar coloring of the feelings, and the special lines of the conduct will all be determined by the character of the surroundings. It is impossible, in the present state of our knowledge, to say how much of the diversity of intelligence and char- acter that we find among men is referable to native dif- ferences, how much to the effects of surroundings, more particularly social surroundings. The older psychology of Locke overlooked the effects of native differences, of individual nature. To Locke all men were born with equal abilities, and the differences were due to experience and education. The newer psychology rightly insists on the existence of these original differences, on the effects of "nature" as distinguished from "nurture."* There is no doubt that similar experiences and outer influences do not produce precisely identical results. At the same time, it is possible that we of to-day are apt to underesti- * The importance of original differences of intellectual aptitude and emotional disposition has just been insisted on with great force of argu- ment by Mr. F. Galton in his curious volume, " Inquiries into Human Faculty and its Development." See " Nurture and Nature," p. 177, etc. An illustration of the strength and pertinacity of original tend- encies is very clearly brought out in the " History of Twins," p. 216, et seq. Mr. Galton takes cases of twins who were much alike, and also of twins who were distinctly unlike, and he seeks to show that in both cases the final result is largely determined by nature and not by nur- ture. 62 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. mate the effects of surroundings, and more particularly of early bringing up. It is true, of course, that there never is anything in the finished mental product, the mature mind and character, which was not present potentially at the outset. It is also true that all growth is the immediate outcome of the mind's own exertion and activity. Still, it may be said that the special external circumstances of the individual life were needed to evoke and nurture these latent germs of ability, and to call forth and direct that activity. It is common to say that men of genius are independ- ent of their surroundings, that their powers germinate and fructify in spite of unfavorable surroundings. This is true in a sense. The stronger the native intellectual bent, the more strenuous the mental exertions, the more independ- ent is the mind of its surroundings; or, to put it more accurately, the more readily will it create a favorable en- vironment (companions, books, etc.) for itself. In aver- age cases, however, when there is no such powerful and predominant impulse, it is the actual surroundings, and particularly the early influences of the home and the school, which determine which of the potential aptitudes and in- clinations shall be fostered into life and vigor. 3 The Teacher and the Social Environment. From the foregoing we see that education fulfills an im- portant function among the influences presupposed in development. The intellectual and moral culture of the home constitutes a prime ingredient in the sum of the influences of the social environment. The influence of the school-teacher, though much more restricted on the emo- tional and moral side, is the most important of the external stimuli to intellectual progress. As Pestalozzi has pointed out, the teacher stands in place of the parent, having to carry forward, in a more thorough and systematic manner, and to a much higher point than the qualifications and the opportunities of the parent commonly allow, the early TRAINING OF THE FACULTIES. 63 intellectual instruction of the home ; and, regarded in this light, his work is eminently a natural one, being the out- growth of the instinct of instruction which shows itself in germ in the lower animals, and in man is inseparately in- tertwined with the parental feelings and instincts. Viewed in another way, the teacher represents not merely the par- ent but the community. This he does by aiming at pre- paring the learner in intelligence, and, as far as possible, in character, to properly fill his future place in the com- munity ; and by bringing to bear for this purpose all the resources of the knowledge which has become the heritage of the present from the past, as well as a type of character which represents as clearly as possible the highest moral progress yet attained by man. 4 Training of the Faculties. The systematic pro- cedure of the teacher is implied in the word training. This involves the putting of the child in such circum- stances, and surrounding it by such influences, as will serve to call the faculty into exercise, or, as has already been pointed out, the supplying of the intellect with ma- terials to work upon, or nutriment to be assimilated, to- gether with the application of a stimulus or motive to exertion. It means, too, the continuous or periodic exer- cise of the faculty, with the definite purpose of strengthen- ing it, and advancing its growth. Such training must clearly be based on a knowledge of the laws of mental development. Thus it has to conform to the great law of all growth, that it is appropriate exer- cise which strengthens faculty. That is to say, it will aim directly at calling forth a faculty into its proper mode of action by supplying materials and motives adapted to the stage of development reached at the time. Training may be said to be adapted when it supplies an adequate but not excessive stimulation of the faculty. By adequate stimulation is here meant an excitation of sufficient strength and variety to secure completeness of growth. A 64 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. boy's memory or understanding is not properly trained if very easy tasks are assigned which fail to rouse the faculty to full activity. By excessive stimulation is meant an amount of excitation which forces the activity to such a point as is unfavorable to growth. Thus, when a boy is set to master a problem in Euclid beyond his powers of reasoning the task, by baffling effort and ronfusing the mind, is distinctly adverse to intellectual progress. It fol- lows that all good training must be progressive, the tasks becoming more difficult pari passu with the growth of ability. In the second place, the whole scheme of training should conform to the natural order of development of the faculties. Those faculties which develop first must be exercised first. It is vain, for example, to try to cultivate the power of abstraction, by subjects like grammar, before the powers of observation (perception) and imagination have reached a certain degree of strength. This self-evi- dent proposition is one of the best accepted principles in the modern theory of education, though there is reason to apprehend that it is still frequently violated in practice. Once more, a method of training based on scientific principles will aim not only at taking up a faculty at the right moment, but also at cultivating it up to the proper point, and not beyond this. By this point is meant the level which answers to its rank or value in the whole scale of faculties. Thus, for example, in training the memory or the imagination we should inquire into its precise importance in relation to the attainment of knowl- edge and intellectual culture as a whole, and give to its exercise and development a proportionate amount of attention. The perfect following out of this principle is that harmonious development of the whole mind on which Pestalozzi and others have laid emphasis. The educator must ever keep before him the ideal of a complete man, TRAINING OF THE FACULTIES. 6$ strong and well-developed physically, intellectually, and morally, and, so far as practicable, assign a proportionate amount of time and exercise to the development of each side of the child's being. 5 Finally, training, in order to be adequate, must be to some extent elastic, adapting itself to the numerous dif- ferences among young minds. Up to a certain point a common result, namely, a typical completeness of develop- ment, will be aimed at. It would not be well, for ex- ample, that any child, however unimaginative, should have his imagination wholly untrained. At the same time this typical plan of cultivation must be modified in detail. The greater the natural aptitude, the more eco- nomical the production of a given psychical result. Hence it would be wasteful to give as much time and thought to the training of a bad as of a good germ of faculty. Nor do the practical ends of life impose such a disagreeable task on the teacher. Variety of individual development is in itself valuable, and moreover answers to the highly elaborated division of life-work or differentiation of life- function which characterizes civilization. The problem of respecting individuality in educating the young, of secur- ing a sufficient diversity of studies in our school system, is probably one of the most urgent practical educational problems of the hour. (See Notes 6 and 6a.) APPENDIX. For a fuller account of the nature and causes of mental develop- ment the reader is referred to Mr. Spencer's " Principles of Psychology," especially vol. i, parts iii and iv. A brief account of the process as bearing on education will be found in the same writer's essay, " Educa- tion," chap. ii. His views have been criticised by M. H. Joly, " No- tions de Pe'dagogie," p. 48, etc., and by W. H. Payne, "Contributions to the Science of Education," chap. iv. The subject has also been dis- cussed from an educational point of view by Beneke, " Erziehungs und Unterrichtslehre," i, p. 101, etc. ; G. F. Pfisterer, " Psedagogische Psy- chologic," 2 ; and Dittes, " Grundriss," 22. The determining forces in development are given by Waitz, " Allg. Poed.," 4 ; Rosenkranz, " Paed. as System," p. 23, etc. ; T. Ziller, " Vorlesungen iiber Allg. Paed.," pp. 49 and 60 ; and Guyau, " Education et He're'dite," chap, i and ii. 5 CHAPTER VI. ATTENTION. Place of Attention in Mind. Attention enters as an important condition into all classes of mental opera- tion. There is no distinct thinking, no vivid feeling, and no deliberate action without attention. This co-operation of attention is specially conspicuous in the case of intellect- ual operations. The objects which present themselves to our senses are only clearly discriminated one from the other, and classed as objects of such and such a class, when we attend to them. So again, present impressions only exercise their full force in calling up what is as- sociated with them when we keep them before the mind by an act of attention. Once more, all abstract thinking is clearly an active state of mind involving a voluntary fixing of the attention. We thus see that attention, though a form of action, and in its higher developments presup- posing an effort of will, stands in the closest relation to intellectual operations. It is co-operation of the active side of mind in intellectual processes, and it is one of the great determining forces of intellectual development. This being so, it is desirable to give a brief account of it before entering on the exposition of intellect, reserving the exposition of its higher forms till we come to consider the nature of volition. Definition of Attention. Attention may be roughly defined as the active self-direction of the mind to any PLACE OF ATTENTION IN MIND, 67 material or object which presents itself to it at the mo- ment.* It thus means somewhat the same as the mind's " consciousness " of what is present to it. The field of attention, however, is narrower than that of consciousness. I may be very vaguely or indistinctly conscious of some bodily sensation, as hunger, of some haunting recollection, and so on, without making it the object of attention. At- tention involves an intensification of consciousness, a con- centration or narrowing of it on some definite and re- stricted portion of the mental scene ; or, to express it otherwise, it implies a turning of the mental eye in a par- ticular direction so as to see the objects lying in that quarter as distinctly as possible, f As an active tension of mind, attention is opposed to that relaxed state of mind in which there is no conscious exertion to fix the gaze on any particular object. This answers to what the teacher is -wont to call inattention. It is a state of listlessness or drowsiness as compared with one of activity and wakefulness. Directions of Attention. Attention follows one of two main directions ; that is, is directed to one of two great fields of objects, (i) The first region is that of ex- ternal impressions, the sights, sounds, etc., which make up the world of sense. When the teacher talks about "attending," he commonly means actively listening, or actively looking. This is the direction of attention out- ward, or external attention. (2) In addition to external impressions, internal images, ideas and thoughts, may be attended to. This constitutes the second main direction of attention, or internal attention. All intellectual atten- * The reader must be careful to distinguish between " object of attention" and "external object," as we commonly understand it. As we shall see presently, the former, though including the latter, is a much wider domain than this. f The idea of mental activity in the full sense, or mental tension, is directly suggested by the etymology of the word, ad tendere, to stretch (sc., the mind toward). 68 ATTENTION. tion, that is to say, attention engaged in the processes of learning or coming to know about things, is attention directed either to external impressions or to internal ideas. So far as we attend to feelings of pleasure and pain we appear to do so by fixing the attention on the ex- citing cause of the feeling, which must be either an exter- nal object or an internal idea. Finally, in attending to our actions, we fix our minds on the idea of the result which we are immediately aiming at. Thus, in every case, the object of attention is some external impression, or internal idea, or thought. Effects of Attention. The immediate effect of an act of attention serves to give greater force, vividness, and distinctness to its object. Thus an impression of sound, as the tolling of a bell, becomes more forcible, and has its character made more definite, when we direct our atten- tion to it. A thought, a recollection, is rendered distinct by attending to it. The intensification of consciousness in one particular direction produces thus an increase of illumination, and so subserves the clear perception and understanding of things. Attention produces striking effects on the feelings. A serious bodily injury may hardly trouble our mind, if through some exceptional excitement it is hindered from attending to it. Thus it is known that soldiers wounded in battle have hardly felt any pain at the moment. On the other hand, a very moderate sensation of discomfort, as an irritation of the skin, grows into something intensely disagreeable if the attention is fastened on the particular bodily locality affected. Finally, our actions grow more vigorous and energetic as well as more precise when we give our attention to the objects aimed at.* Physiology of Attention. The seat of attention appears to be situated in the higher region of the nerve- * For some curious illustrations of the effects of attention, see Dr. Carpenter's " Mental Physiology," chap. iii. EXTENT OF ATTENTION. 69 centers in the cerebral hemispheres. The mechanism of attention probably involves an intensification of nervous activity in certain regions of the brain, which is effected by means of an impulse sent forth from the supreme con- trolling centers. In this way, for example, the nerve- centers employed in hearing are thrown into a state of exceptional excitability when we listen to somebody read- ing or singing. Along with this concentration of nerve- energy in certain definite regions of the brain, the act of external attention involves important muscular adjust- ments, such as directing the eye to an object, which are necessary to the reception of distinct sense-impressions. 7 Extent of Attention. All attention is a narrowing of the range of mental activity and to a certain extent a concentration or focusing of the mind on a given point. But all acts of attention do not embrace equal areas or extents. Just as in looking at a landscape we may fix the eye on a smaller or larger portion of the scene, so the mind may direct itself to a smaller or larger area of object. In general it may be said that the more things we try to include in our mental gaze the less distinct is the result. This is seen plainly in all efforts to attend to a variety of disconnected things at one time, as when we are reading a book and listening to a conversation. " One thing at a time " is the law of mental activity, and the performing of distinct mental occupations is only possible where repetition and habit exempt us from close attention, as in carrying on some familiar manual operation and listening to another's words. Where, however, we have to do with a number of con- nected impressions or objects of attention, we are able to a certain extent to include them in one view. Thus we can attend to the features of a face in their relations of proportion, to a succession of musical sounds in their re- lations of rhythm, etc. This grasp of a number of parts, 7 ATTENTION, details, or members of a group, is greatly facilitated by a rapid transition of the mental glance from one detail to another, as in running over the various features of an artistic design, or the succeeding steps of an argument. On what the Degree of Attention depends. The amount of attention exerted at any time depends on two chief circumstances : (a) the quantity of nervous energy disposable at the time ; () the strength of the stimulus which excites the attention or rouses it to action. If there is great active energy, a feeble stimulus will suffice to bring about attention. A healthy, vigorous child, in the early part of the day, has a superabundance of energy which shows itself in attention to small and comparatively uninteresting matters. Indeed, his activity prompts him to seek objects of attention in his surroundings. On the other hand, a tired or weakly child requires a powerful stimulus to rouse his mental activity. External and Internal Stimuli. The stimulus to an act of attention may be either something external, con- nected with the object attended to, or something internal. An external stimulus consists of some interesting or strik- ing feature in the object itself, or in its accompaniments, by reason of which the attention is said to be attracted and arrested, as when a child's attention is excited by the brilliance of a light, or the strangeness of a sound. An internal stimulus is a motive in the mind which prompts it to put forth its attention in a particular direction, such as the desire of a child to please his teacher, or to gain a higher place in his class. Non-Voluntary and Voluntary Attention. When the mind is acted upon by the mere force of the object presented, the act of attention is said to be non-voluntary.* It may also be called reflex (or automatic) because it bears * The term non-voluntary is preferred to involuntary, as indicating the mere absence of volition, and not opposition to will or " unwilling- ness " LA W OF CONTRAST AND NOVELTY. 71 a striking analogy to reflex movement, that is to say, move- ment following sensory stimulation without the interven- tion of a conscious purpose. On the other hand, when we attend to a thing under the impulse of a desire, such as curiosity or a wish to know about a thing, we are said to do so by an act of will, or voluntarily. These two modes of attention, though properly distinguished one from an- other, are both acts of the mind, and will be found to shade off one into the other in our actual mental life. Reflex Attention. This is the earlier form of atten- tion, and the one with which the teacher is specially con- cerned in the first stages of instruction. Here the direc- tion of the attention is determined for the mind rather than by the mind. It follows the lead of the attractive force which happens to work at the time. In its simplest form attention is a momentary direction of the attention due to the action of a powerful sensory stimulus, as a brilliant light, a loud sound, etc. Every teacher knows the value of a strong emphatic mode of utterance in commanding the attention ; and this effect is partly due to the action of strong sensuous impressions in rousing mental activity. Law of Contrast and Novelty. This momentary direction of the attention is governed by the law of change or contrast. According to this principle, an unvarying impression, if prolonged, fails to produce a mental effect. The constant noise of the mill soon ceases to be noticed by one who lives near it. This is partly due to the fact that a prolonged powerful stimulus fatigues the nerve-cen- ter and renders it less responsive. But, in addition to this, a prolonged impression, even if a powerful one, loses its effect because it ceases to exert an attractive force on the attention. Hence, the teacher who continually or very frequently addresses his class in loud tones, misses the advantage of an occasional raising of the voice. On the other hand, a sudden change of impression, as 7 2 ATTENTION. when a light is brought into a dark room, or the report of a gun breaks the stillness of the country, acts as a power- ful excitant to the attention. For the same reason a strong contrast of impression, as between high and low, soft and loud in music, bright and dark colors, and so forth, is an excitant to the attention. Novelty, so powerful a force in childhood and a con- siderable force throughout life, is only a further illustra- tion of the law of change. For something new attracts the attention, because it stands in contrast with our ordi- nary surroundings and experience. It stimulates and ex- cites the mind very much as a startling contrast. Interest. When it is said that we only attend to what interests us, there is a reference to the excitation of a cer- tain amount of feeling. This feeling a.cts as a force in ar- resting the attention and keeping it fixed for an apprecia- ble time. Attention to what interests us is thus always something more than the momentary direction of atten- tion. This feeling of interest may arise in different ways. (1) In the first place, interest is excited when the ob- ject is in itself pretty or beautiful, and so fitted to give immediate pleasure or gratification in the very act of attending to it. Thus, an infant will keep its eyes fixed for a time on the lamp brought into the room, because of its pleasurable effect. The production of pleasure, in con- nection with any mode of activity, tends, as we shall see by-and-by, to intensify and prolong this activity. This forms the germ of aesthetic interest. (2) Another great source of interest in things is their connection with what is pleasurable or painful in our past experience. The infant shows the most vivid interest in such sights as the preparation of its food, its bath, etc. A child will listen to whatever bears on its familiar pleas- ures, its favorite possessions and companions, its amuse- ments, etc. In all states of fear, again, we see the atten- tion closely engaged by that which bears on pain or suffer- FAMILIARITY AND INTEREST. 73 ing. This effect of a connection or association with what is pleasurable or painful in riveting the attention underlies what we mark off as practical interest. (3) Lastly, interest may assume a more distinctly in- tellectual form, involving the germ of a wish to understand a thing, and the desire for knowledge as such. This intellect- ual interest is what we commonly call curiosity. It springs up in different ways. It arises most naturally out of a feeling of wonder at what is new, strange, and mysterious, as when a child sees a light go out in a bottle filled with car- bonic acid, and wants to know the cause. In many cases, however, it takes its rise in the feeling of delight produced by what is beautiful, as when a child is interested in know- ing about a lovely flower or bird. Finally, this intellectual interest is greatly promoted by the principle of associa- tion. The direction of children's curiosity follows to a large extent the lead of association. What is seen to have a bearing on the child's pleasures and practical aims tends to become the object of a genuine intellectual curiosity. Familiarity and Interest. It follows from this that mere novelty, though a powerful stimulus to the at- tention, and capable of leading on to curiosity, is rarely if ever sufficient to detain and fix the attention in a pro- longed act or attitude. What is absolutely strange and consequently unsuggestive to the child's mind is apt to be a matter of indifference. In walking down a new street, for example, a child will as a rule notice those things which in some way remind him of, and connect themselves with, what he already knows and likes, e. g., the harness in the saddler's shop.* While, therefore, the principle of change tells us that perfect familiarity with a subject is fatal to interest, the laws of intellectual interest tell us that a measure of familiarity is essential. The principle * See the interesting account of the want of interest in London sights manifested by some Esquimaux who visited our capital, given by Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Education," ii, p. 118. 74 A TTENTION. of modern intellectual education, that there should be a gradual transition from the known to the unknown, is thus seen to correspond not only with the necessities of intellect- ual movement and development, but also with the natural laws of development of those feelings of interest which in- spire attention and so call the in tellectual faculties into play. 8 Transition to Voluntary Attention. The devel- opment of interest and curiosity forms a natural transition from non-voluntary to voluntary attention. The prolonga- tion of the act of attention implies a germ of volition. Thus the maintenance of the expectant attitude of mind by a class, when the teacher is presenting interesting ma- terials, is due to a vague anticipation of coming gratifica- tion and a desire to realize this. Here, then, we see how gradually the earlier and lower form passes into the later and higher. In supplying interesting matter to his class, and exciting a feeling of pleasurable interest, the teacher is preparing the way for the exercises of the will in what is called voluntary attention. Function of the Will in Attention. It is impossi- ble at this stage to explain the whole nature of voluntary attention. As a mode of will or volition it obeys the laws of volition, which will be expounded later on. Here it must suffice to indicate the effects of voluntary action in enlarging the sphere and otherwise modifying the charac- ter of attention. To begin with, then, what is called voluntary attention is not a wholly new phase of the process. After the ac- tion of the will has supervened, the forces of non-voluntary attention continue to be active as tendencies. And the range of the will's action is limited by these. Thus the student most practiced in abstraction finds that there is some force of external stimulus, as the allurement of a beautiful melody sung within his hearing, against which his will is impotent. Again, though we can undoubtedly (within certain FUNCTION OF THE WILL IN ATTENTION. 75 limits) direct our attention in this or that quarter at will, we have not the power to keep our attention closely and persistently fixed on any object which we (or somebody else for us) may happen to select. Something further is necessary to that lively interaction of mind and object which we call a state of attention ; and this is interest. By an act of will a person may resolve to turn his atten- tion to something, say a passage in a book. But if, after this preliminary process of adjustment of the mental eye, the subject-matter opens up no interesting phase, no effort of volition will produce a calm, settled state of concentra- tion. The will introduces mind and object : it can not force an attachment between them. No compulsion of a teacher ever succeeded in making a young mind cordially embrace and appropriate by an act of concentration an unsuitable, and therefore uninteresting subject. We thus see that voluntary attention is not removed from the sway of interest. What the will does is to determine the kind of interest which shall prevail at the moment. The importance of this initial action of will, in deter- mining the direction of attention, depends on the fact that in many cases a strong interest is only developed after the mind and the subject-matter have remained in contact awhile. Many subjects do not disclose their attractions at once and on the surface, but only after they have been more closely examined. Thus the charm of a poem or of a geometrical problem makes itself felt gradually. Hence, if a child can be induced to exercise his will at the outset, under the influence of some internal motive disconnected with the subject, as the desire to please his parents or teacher, or to gain some tangible advantage from the study, he will often come under the spell of new and un- suspected varieties of interest. Indeed, the taking up of any new branch of study illustrates this gradual substitu- tion of an easy, agreeable activity for a comparatively hard and disagreeable one. ;6 A TTENTION. Growth of Attention : Early Stage. After this account of the nature and laws of attention and its two chief forms, a few words will suffice to indicate the suc- cessive phases of its growth. As has been observed, the early form of attention is the reflex or non-voluntary. By frequent exercises of its activity in response to external stimuli the power attains a certain degree of development independently of any aid from the will. By this is meant that, after a certain number of exercises, less powerful stimuli suffice, in the absence of more powerful ones, to call forth attention. Thus, by directing his attention again and again to bright objects, as the candle, the infant is preparing to direct it (still non-voluntarily) to the mother's face, his own hands, etc., when these objects happen to come into the field of view. With the progress of life, too, many things at first indifferent acquire an interest. Thus the accompaniments of what is intrinsically interest- ing would acquire (according to the principle of associ- ation) a borrowed or derived interest. In this way the infant tends to watch the movements and doings of his nurse, mother, etc. ; the boy comes to take an interest in the construction of his kite, and so on. Not only so, the range of interesting objects would be greatly extended by the development of new feelings, such as the sense of the grotesque, the feeling for what is beautiful, affection, etc. Development of Power of controlling the At- tention. While this exercise of the power of attention in the reflex form is thus going on, the child's will is also de- veloping. The simplest manifestation of voluntary atten- tion may perhaps be found in the continued gazing at an agreeable object, such as a brightly colored toy or picture, held before the eye ; for here, as pointed out above, there is a vague anticipation of further pleasure. A more dis- tinctly marked development of will-power is manifested in the attitude of expectation. From a very early period of life the will begins to manifest itself in a deliberate explor- ATTENTION TO THE UNIMPRESSIVE. 77 ing or looking out for objects to inspect or examine.* By such successive exercises the activity of attention is little by little brought under perfect control. Although the full understanding of this process presupposes a knowledge of the growth of will as a whole, we may be able to antici- pate to some extent, and indicate the main lines of this progress. The growth of voluntary attention means a continual reduction of the difficulty of attending to objects. The law that exercise strengthens faculty applies to attention. What is first done with labor and sense of difficulty is, with repetition and practice, done more and more easily. At the same time more and more difficult tasks become possible. The growth of attention may be best treated by distinguishing between the several forms in which this progressive mastery of difficulty manifests itself. Attention to the Unimpressive. Voluntary atten- tion is obviously a going beyond the range of powerful and directly interesting stimuli, and an embracing of a wider circle of comparatively unimpressive and only indirectly interesting objects. The progress of attention can be measured under this aspect. The child learns gradually to fix with his eye the less striking, prominent, and attract- ive objects and events of the world in which he lives. When no strongly impressive objects are present, the very impulse of activity will insure a certain amount of atten- tion to less conspicuous and striking ones. Moreover, each successive exercise of the attention makes subsequent exercises easier, and the growth of mind as a whole implies * Prof. Preyer says that the child begins to explore the field of vis- ion in search of objects before the end of the third month. (" Die Seele des Kindes," p. 33.) He puts the first appearance of volition, properly so called, a month or two later. This suggests that the simple action here spoken of is a transition from the reflex to the voluntary form of attention. On the other hand, M. Perez thinks he discovers the germ of voluntary attention at the age of two months and six days. (" The First Three Years of Childhood," p. 112.) 7 S ATTENTION. the constant addition of new needs and impulses which would insure a wider range of attention. Resistance to Stimuli. A voluntary control of the attention involves, in the second place, the ability to resist the solicitations of extraneous and distracting objects. Voluntarily to turn the mind to a thing is to exclude what is irrelevant. This power of resistance has, of course, in every case its limits. Nobody can withstand the disturb- ing force of a sudden explosion. But the capability of resisting such distractions varies considerably, and is greatly improved by practice. The child, when sent to school, finds it hard at first not to look at his companions, or out of the window, when a lesson is being given. By- and-by he will be able to fix his mind on his lesson, even when some amount of disturbing noise is present. The highest attainment of this power is seen in the student whose mind is " abstracted " from external impressions, being wholly absorbed in internal reflection. Keeping the Attention fixed. Another aspect, under which the growth of attention may be estimated, is the ability to detain objects before the mind. As we have seen, reflex attention is, for the most part, a process of flit- ting from object to object. We found, indeed, that even here there is a force at work which tends to counteract the impulse to skip from one thing to another. But this would not of itself carry us very far. It is only as the attention comes under the control of the will that it shows any con- siderable measure of persistence. To attend to a thing voluntarily means commonly to keep the mind dwelling on it. The ordinary school exercises involve such a prolonged and sustained effort of attention. Thus, in counting, the mind has to keep steadily in view the result of each of the successive operations as it is reached. The wandering of the thoughts for an instant would be fatal to the achieve- ment of the whole process. So, in following a description, a demonstration in Euclid, and so forth. CONCENTRA TION. 79 Here, again, we have to recognize the existence of cer- tain limits in every case. Nobody can fix his mind on one and the same object say a geometrical figure for an in- definite time. When once the fresh interest of a thing is exhausted, a further fixing of the attention costs more and more effort. Nor can a pupil carry on a sustained effort of attention through an indefinitely long arithmetical or other operation. The brain is soon wearied by the pro- longed exertion, and attention flags in spite of the utmost effort. But the limit of fatigue is pushed further off as the will develops and the act of attention becomes more easy. Concentration. The power of sustained attention grows with the ability to resist distractions and solicita- tions. The two capabilities are thus very closely con- nected with one another, and are both included in the term concentration. To concentrate the mind is to fix it persistently on an object or group of objects, resolutely excluding from the mental view all irrelevant objects. The great field for the early exercises of such concentra- tion is action. When the child wants to do something, as open a box, or build a pile of bricks, the strong desire for the end secures a prolonged effort of attention. The scholar patiently poring over a mutilated passage in an ancient MS., to the neglect of his appetite, or the natural- ist patiently observing the movements of insects or of plants, indifferent to cold and wet, illustrates a high power of prolonged concentration. A person's power of attention may be conveniently measured by the degree of persistence attained. Concentration and Intellectual Power. It has often been said that great intellectual power turns on the ability to concentrate the attention. Newton based his intellectual superiority on this circumstance. Helvetius observed that genius is nothing but a continued attention. A proposition about which there is so general an agree- 80 ATTENTION. ment among those who ought to know may be safely ac- cepted as expressing a truth. Attention is a condition of all intellectual achievement, and a good power of pro- longed concentration is undoubtedly indispensable to first- rate achievement in any direction. The discoverers of new knowledge have always been distinguished by an unusual degree of pertinacity in brooding over a subject, and in following out trains of thought in this and that direction till the required explanation of fact, reconcili- ation of apparent contradictions, and so on, was found. But though these sayings undoubtedly embody an impor- tant truth, they only contain a part of the whole truth. No amount of attention simply will constitute intellectual eminence. The dull, slow, but exceedingly plodding child is a familiar type to the teacher. Success of the higher order depends on the possession of the intellectual functions (discrimination, etc.) in an exceptionally perfect form. On the other hand, good intellectual powers, when aided by a comparatively small power of prolonged atten- tion, may render their possessor quick and intelligent. Grasp of Attention. As was pointed out above, the mind has a certain power of including a number of objects in one glance, and this power underlies the apprehension of all relations, such as symmetry of form, similarity be- tween objects, etc. The acquisition of this grasp is one of the most valuable results of the growth of the power of voluntary attention. Only as this power is developed will it be possible for the teacher to take his pupil on to the higher intellectual exercises, such as the understanding of geometrical relations of the more complicated kind, the processes of comparing a number of things with a view to abstraction, the logical analysis of sentences, arguments, and so forth. This form of attention, like the other forms, needs its own special modes of exercise to develop and improve it. We must distinguish this power of carrying the atten- VARIETIES OF ATTENTIVE POWER. 8 1 tion quickly over a number of connected details from another variety of attention closely akin to it, viz., the capability of transferring the mental glance from one thing to another and disconnected thing. This capability is illustrated in a striking form in the rapid movements of the versatile mind from one subject of conversation, one region of ideas to another. This power of rapid trans- ference, though valuable in many intellectual exercises, is of far less value than the power of mentally bringing a number of details together as parts of one whole. It is plain, too, that it is in a manner opposed to prolonged concentration upon one subject. Habits of Attention. Voluntary attention, like vol- untary action as a whole, is perfected in the form of habits. By a habit we mean a fixed disposition to do a thing, and a facility in doing it, the result of numerous repetitions of the action. The growth of the power of attention may be viewed as a progressive formation of habits. At first vol- untary concentration of mind requires a spur and an effort. As soon as the pressure of strong motive is withdrawn, the young mind returns to its natural state of listlessness or wandering attention. A habit of attention first appears as a recurring readiness to attend under definite circum- stances, for example when the child goes into his class- room, or is addressed by somebody. This is what Miss Edgeworth calls a habit of associated attention. Later on there manifests itself a more permanent attitude of atten- tiveness. The transition from childhood to youth is often characterized by the acquisition of a more general atti- tude of mental watchfulness, showing itself in thoughtful- ness about what is seen and heard. The highest result of the working of the principle of habit in this region is illus- trated in the customary, and but rarely relaxed, alertness of mind of the artistic or scientific observer of nature. Varieties of Attentive Power. It has been im- plied that the power of attention develops very unequally 6 82 A TTENTION. in different individual cases. With some this power never reaches a high point at all ; these are the children of slug- gish attention, the "saunterers," to use Locke's expression, who form the teacher's crux. Again, owing to differences of native endowment, as well as of exercise, we find well- marked contrasts in the special direction which the atten- tive power assumes. And these help, to a considerable extent, to determine the cast or character of the indi- vidual intelligence. Everybody knows the difference, for example, between the plodding child, able to concentrate his mind on an object for a long period, but slow to transfer and adjust his attention to new matter, and the quick but rather superficial child the volatile genius, ac- cording to Miss Edgeworth, who finds it easy to direct his attention to new objects, though hard to keep it fixed for a prolonged period. There are many students who are capable of great intensity of concentration under favor- able circumstances, but whose minds are easily over- powered by disturbing or distracting influences. Finally, the ruling habits of attention will vary according to the character of the predominant interests. Thus, for ex- ample, a strong love of nature (whether scientific or artistic) will give a habitual outward bent to the atten- tion ; whereas a paramount interest in our own feelings, or in the objects of imagination and thought, will give a customary inward inclination to the attention. Training of the Attention. All intellectual guid- ance of the young manifestly implies the power of holding their attention. Instruction may be said to begin when the mother can secure the attention of the infant to an object by pointing her finger to it. Henceforth she has the child's mental life to a certain extent under her con- trol, and can select the impressions which shall give new knowledge or new enjoyment. What we mark off as formal teaching, whether by the presentation of external objects for inspection through the senses, or by verbal TRAINING OF THE ATTENTION. 83 instruction, clearly involves at every stage an appeal to the attention, and depends for its success on securing this. To know how to exercise the attention, how to call forth its full activity, is thus the first condition of success in education. Mental science here, as in respect of the other faculties, can only point out the general conditions to be observed, and the natural order of procedure. It is plain, in the first place, that the laws of attention must be complied with. He would be a foolish teacher who gave a child a number of disconnected things to do at a time, or who insisted on keeping his mind bent on the same subject for an indefinite period. Yet, though these conditions are obvious enough, others are more easily overlooked. Thus it is probable that a more exact knowledge of the effects on the attention of novelty of subject and mode of treatment, on the one hand, and of total unfamiliarity on the other hand, would save teachers from many errors. Some of us can recall from our school-days the wearisome effect of an oft-recurring stereotyped illustration, as well as the impression of repellent strangeness produced by a first, and too sudden, introduction to a perfectly new branch of study. In the second place, it will be well to bear in mind that the young child's power of voluntary attention is rudi- mentary only, and that force must be economized by re- moving all obstacles and making the task as attractive and agreeable as possible. It would be idle to try to enlist his close attention if he were bodily fatigued, or if he were under the influence of emotional excitement, and agitated in mind and body. Again, it would be vain to expect him to listen to oral instruction close to a window looking out on a busy street. Children's (uncontrolled) attention flows outward to the sights and sounds of the actual external world, and is less easily diverted by the teacher's words toward the world of imagination and thought 8 4 A TTENTION. Consequently, in teaching, everything should be done to reduce the force of outward things. The teacher would do well to remember that even so practiced a thinker as Kant found it helpful to prolonged meditation to fix his eye on a familiar and therefore unexciting object (a neighboring church-spire). Not only so, the subject and mode of treatment chosen should be such as to attract the learner's attention to the utmost What is fresh, interest- ing, or associated with some pleasurable interest, will secure and hold the attention when dry topics altogether fail to do so. Much may be done in this direction by preparation, by awakening curiosity, and by putting the child's mind in the attitude of tiptoe expectancy. As the pupil grows, more may of course be required in the shape of a voluntary effort to attend. It must never be forgotten, however, that all through life forced atten- tion to what is wholly uninteresting is not only wearying, but is certain to be ineffectual and unproductive. Hence, the rule to adapt the work to the growing intellectual and other likings of the child. Not only so, the teacher should regard it as an important part of the training of the attention to arouse interest, to deepen and fix it in certain definite directions, and gradually to enlarge its range.* Harder task-work, such as learning the com- paratively uninteresting letters of the alphabet, or the notes of the musical scale, must be introduced gradually, and only when the will-power is sufficiently developed. Great care must be taken further to graduate the length or duration of the mental application, both in a particular direction and generally, in accordance with the progress of the child's powers of voluntary attention. An ideal school-system would exhibit all gradations in this respect ; * Volkmann remarks that the older pedagogic had as its rule, " Make your instruction interesting" ; whereas the newer has the pre- cept, " Instruct in such a way that an interest may awake and remain active for life " (" Lehrbuch der Psychologic," vol. ii, p. 200). TRAINING OF THE ATTENTION. 85 alternation and complete remission of mental activity be- ing frequent at first, and growing less and less so as the powers of prolonged concentration develop. APPENDIX. On the early development of attention, see Perez, " First Three Years of Childhood," chap. viii. The characteristics of children's at- tention and the laws of the growth of attention are well described by Waitz, " Lehrbuch der Psychologic," 55 ; and by Volkmann, " Lehr- buch der Psychologie," vol. ii, 114. On the training of the attention, see Locke, " Some Thoughts con- cerning Education," 167; Maria Edgeworth, " Essays on Practical Education," vol. i, chap. ii. Beneke, " Erziehungs- und Unterrichts- lehre," 4th ed., vol. i, 19; Th. Waitz, "Allgemeine Psedagogik," vol. i, 23 ; and G. Compayre, " Cours de Pedagogic," Ie9on v. The effects of a lively mode of presenting subjects of instruction in exciting and detaining attention are well brought out by Mr. Arthur Sidgwick in his lecture on " Stimulus " (" Three Lectures on the Practice of Education "Pitt Press Series). Cf. T. W. Parker, " Notes of Talks on Teaching," xxiv. CHAPTER VII. THE SENSES : SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. ALL knowledge takes its rise in the senses. No intel- lectual work, such as imagining or reasoning, can be done till the senses have supplied the necessary materials. These materials, when reduced to their elements, are known as sensations or impressions, such as those of light and color, which we receive by means of the eye, of sound, which we have by way of the ear, and so on. An examination of our most abstract notions, such as force, matter, leads us back to these impressions of sense. Our ideas respecting the nature and properties of things is limited by our sensa- tions. The want of a sense, as in the case of one born blind, means depriving the mind of a whole order of ideas. The addition of a new sense, if such a thing were possible, would enrich our minds by a new kind of knowledge re- specting the world. 9 Definition of Sensation. A sensation being an ele- mentary mental phenomenon can not be defined in terms of anything more simple. Its meaning can only be indi- cated by a reference to the nervous processes on which it is known to depend. Accordingly, a sensation may be defined as a simple mental state resulting from the stimu- lation of the outer extremity of an " incarrying " nerve, when this stimulation has been transmitted to the brain- centers. Thus the stimulation of a point of the skin by pressing or rubbing, or of the retina of the eye by light, gives rise to a sensation. GENERAL AND SPECIAL SENSIBILITY. 8/ These sensations have two broadly distinguishable as- pects, one of which is commonly predominant. The first is the emotional aspect, by which is meant the presence of a distinct element of feeling, pleasurable or painful. A sensation of bodily warmth, or of sweetness^ illustrates this prominence of the element of feeling. The second aspect is the intellectual, or knowledge-giving. By this is meant the presence of definite and clearly distinguishable prop- erties, which may be called marks or characters, because they serve as clews to the qualities of external things. The sensation experienced on touching a smooth surface, or on hearing a sound of a particular pitch and loudness, is an example of the predominance of the intellectual element. General and Special Sensibility. All parts of the organism supplied with sensory nerves, and the actions of which are consequently fitted to give rise to sensations, are said to possess sensibility of some kind. But this prop- erty appears under one of two very unlike forms. The first of these is common to all sensitive parts of the organ- ism, and involves no special nervous structure at the ex- tremity. The second is peculiar to certain parts of the bodily surface, and implies special structures or " organs." To the former is given the name common or general sensi- bility, and also organic sense ; to the latter, special sensi- bility, or special sense. The sensations falling under the head of common sensi- bility, or the organic sense, are marked by absence of definite characters. They are vague and ill-defined. Their distinguishing peculiarity is that they have a marked pleasurable or painful aspect. Such are the feelings of comfort and discomfort connected with the processes of digestion and indigestion, and with injuries to the tissues. These sensations are not directly connected with the action of external objects, but arise in consequence of a certain condition of the part of the organism concerned. Thus they give us no knowledge of the external world. They 88 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. are no doubt important as informing us of the condition of the organism ; but, owing to their vagueness, they give us very little definite knowledge even of this. The special sensations are those we receive by way of the five senses* They are marked off one from another by great definiteness of character. This peculiarity is connected with the fact that each sense has its own spe- cially modified structure or " sense-organ " such as the eye, or the ear, fitted to be acted upon by a particular kind of stimulus (light-vibrations, air- waves, etc.). Owing to this definiteness of character, the special sensations are much more susceptible of being discriminated and recognized than the organic sensations. Moreover, these sensations are (in ordinary cases) brought about by the action of ex- ternal agents or objects lying outside the organism, and are on that account called impressions, or, better, sense- impressions.* For these reasons they are fitted to yield us knowledge of the environment. Characters of Sensations. The importance of the special senses depends, as we have seen, on their possess- ing certain well-defined aspects, whereby they are fitted to be marks of qualities in external objects as well as of the changes which take place in these. The two most impor- tant distinctions of character among our sensations are those of degree and of kind. By degree or intensity is meant a difference of strength, as that between a bright and a faint light, or a loud and a soft sound. All classes of sensation exhibit such differ- ences of degree. They are of great importance for knowl- edge. Thus the degree of pressure of a body on the hand helps to tell us of its weight. By a difference of kind or quality is meant one of na- ture, as that between sour and sweet, blue and red. These * The sense-impression which we are here concerned with is a men- tal phenomenon, and must not be confused with the physical " impres- sion," as, for example, the image of an object on the retina. THE FIVE SENSES. 89 too are marks of external facts. Thus we distinguish ob- jects by their colors, voices by their pitch, etc. The Five Senses. Coming now to the senses in detail, we see that they do not all exhibit the same degree of definiteness or the same number of distinct characters. We usually speak of taste and smell as the coarse or un- refined senses, whereas hearing and sight are highly re- fined. By attending simply to the degree of refinement, we may arrange the senses in the following ascending order: taste, smell, touch, hearing, sight. A few words on the special function of each must suffice here. Taste and Smell. These present a decidedly low measure of refinement. Indeed, the sensations of these senses may be said to approach the organic sensations in want of definiteness, and in the predominance of the ele- ment of feeling (pleasure and pain). These peculiarities are connected with the fact that these senses have as their function the determination of what is wholesome or un- wholesome to the organism as a whole. The very position of the organs, at the entrance of the digestive and respira- tory cavities, suggests that they are sentinels to warn us as to what is good or ill. The sensations of taste and smell are easily confused one with another, and can not be definite- ly distinguished either in degree or quality. For this and other reasons, they are of little importance as knowledge- giving senses. It is only under special circumstances, as those of the chemist,, the wine-taster, and so on, that these " servants of the body " supply a quantity of exact knowl- edge about the properties of external objects. Touch. By the sense of touch is meant the sensa- tions we receive through the stimulation of certain nerves terminating in the skin by bodies in contact with it. These are either sensations of mere contact or pressure, or those of temperature. These supply important elements of feeling. Thus, contact with smooth surfaces and with warm bodies is 90 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. one chief source of sensuous pleasure, especially in early life. The chief importance of touch is, however, under its intellectual aspect. In its highest form as it presents itself at definite portions of the bodily surface, more particular- ly the hands, and especially the finger-tips (with which the lips may be reckoned), the tactile sensibility becomes a most important means of ascertaining the properties of bodies. The sensations of touch have a much higher de- gree of definiteness than those of taste and smell. The discrimination of degrees of pressure by the tac- tile sense is estimated by laying a weight on the hand or some other part, and then trying how much must be taken away or added in order that a difference may be felt.* It is found that the discriminative sensibility varies con- siderably at different regions of the bodily surface. Foi instance, on the anterior surface of the fingers the differ- ence of pressure detected is about one half of that recog- nized on their posterior surface. This discrimination of degrees of pressure by the skin is one of the means by which we obtain knowledge of the force exerted by bodies, e. g., the difference when a heavy and a light body press against us. It also assists in giving us information respecting the weight of bodies. In the case of touch we have a further difference of sensation which may be called local distinction of sensa- tion, or local discrimination. By this is meant the fact that we can distinguish a number of similar touches when different points of the skin are stimulated. This discrimi- nation of points, like that of degrees of pressure, varies at different parts of the bodily surface. It is much finer in the mobile parts of the body (hands, feet, lips, etc.) than * If the hand is the part selected, it must be supported by some object, as a table. Only in this way can we test the tactile sensibility to pressure apart from the muscular sensibility to be spoken of pres- ently. TOUCH. gi in the comparatively fixed parts (the trunk). Again, it is finer on the anterior than on the posterior surface of the hand, and decreases rapidly as we recede from the finger- tips toward the wrist and elbow. We see from this that the finger-tips are specially marked out as the organ of tactile sensibility.* This local separation of tactile sensations is of the greatest consequence for knowledge. First of all, it is this capability, added to the discrimination of pressure, which forms the basis of our tactile discrimination of roughness and smoothness. A very rough surface, such as that of a piece of unplaned wood or of sand-paper, is appreciated as such by differences of pressure corresponding to eminences and depressions at various points of the surface. In esti- mating a rough surface, therefore, we must both distinguish the several points and the degrees of pressure at these. The sense of roughness and its opposite in their various degrees is of importance in ascertaining not only the na- ture of a surface, but also the texture of a substance, as the fibrous texture of wood, woven materials, etc. In the second place, this local discrimination forms the foundation of the tactile knowledge of what is called ex- tension, or the extendedness of outer things, by which is meant the fact that they have parts occupying different positions in space ; as well as the various modifications of this extendedness which constitute differences of form and magnitude in objects, as differences of direction and length of line, form and extent of surface, etc. It is by laying the hand or the two hands on the surface of an ob- ject, such as a book, that we learn something of its figure and size. Finally, under touch is commonly included the sense of temperature or the thermal sense. It is now known that this sensibility is connected with special nerve-structure * The tip of the tongue and the lips are also highly endowed with tactile discrimination. 9 2 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. distinct from those of the tactile sense proper, and not va- rying in the same way as this varies at different portions of the bodily surface. Hence the thermal sense is a sepa- rate sense. At the same time, we usually test the temper- ature of bodies by touching them, and this with the fin- gers. And the appreciation of temperature thus takes place in close connection with that of their tangible properties. The child learns to know a metal and to distinguish it from wood partly by the differences in the thermal sensa- tions.* Active Touch. So far we have considered touch merely as a passive sense, i. e., as sensibility to the action of things on the tactile surface. But the fact that we speak of touching bodies as our own action shows that it is an active sense as well. In touching, we ourselves bring the organ into contact with substances, and so secure its exercise. In other words, the organ is supplied with mus- cles, the action of which is of very great importance as enlarging the range of our experience and knowledge. The first and most obvious advantage of this adjunct of muscular activity is the multiplication of tactile impres- sions. Just as the mobility of the insect's antennae en- ables it to gain many more impressions of touch than it would have if the organs were fixed, so the mobile arm, hand, and fingers of the child greatly extend the range of his tactile experiences. By such movements he is able to bring the most sensitive part of the organ (the tips of the fingers) into contact with a large number of objects, and further to gain impressions of these in rapid succession, and so discriminate them better one from the other. This widening and perfecting of passive impressions is, * This knowledge is less valuable than that of form or weight, partly because sensations of temperature are very variable, depending on the temperature of the organ itself, and partly because the temper- ature of bodies is a changing state, and not a fixed, invariable property, as weight. MUSCULAR SENSE. 93 however, only one part of the gain resulting from the high degree of mobility of the hand and the eye. Another and no less important part is the new experience which accom- panies these movements, and which constitutes a distinct and very important source of knowledge. This experience is known as the muscular sense. Muscular Sense. By this expression is meant the sum of those peculiar " sensations " of which we are aware when we voluntarily exercise our muscles. These have well-marked characters of their own. They constitute distinctly active states. In singing, in moving the arm or leg, in pushing a heavy body, we have a sense of being bodily active, or of exerting muscular energy. The muscular sense is important both as a source of pleasure and as a means of knowledge. The child de- lights to exercise his muscles, to feel his bodily power. Certain modes of muscular exercise, as rapid rhythmical movement, are known to be specially exhilarating. It is, however, chiefly as a source of knowledge that we shall now regard it. The sensations which accompany muscular action may be conveniently divided into two main varieties. These are (a) sensations of movement or of unimpeded energy, and () sensations of strain or resistance, that is, of ob- structed or impeded energy. The first are illustrated in the sensations which attend movements of the arms or legs in empty space ; the second are exemplified in the sensations which accompany the act of pushing against a heavy object, or holding a heavy weight in the hand. (a) Sensations of movement present two well-marked differences of quality : (i) In the first place, they vary in character according to the direction of the movement. The movement effected by one muscle or group of mus- cles is felt to be unlike that carried out by another. Thus the sensations attending the movements of the arm to the right and to the left, up and down, are qualitatively un- 94 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. like. And it is this difference in the sensations which enables us to ascertain what is the particular direction of any movement which we are executing. (2) In the second place, these sensations vary in character according to the velocity of the movement. The experience of moving the arm quickly differs materially from that of moving it slow- ly. And we are able to distinguish many degrees of ve- locity. (b) The sensations which arise when muscular energy is impeded, as when we push with the shoulder or arms against a heavy body, drag it, or lift it, have a distinct character of their own. They have been called sensations of resistance, or " dead strain." They exhibit, like those of movement, nice distinctions of degree. We experience a difference of sensation in pushing a heavy table and one less heavy, and in lifting a pound and twenty ounces. Each of these modes of muscular experience consti- tutes an important additional source of tactile knowledge. In truth, our information respecting the most fundamental properties of things would be very vague and rudimentary but for the addition of the muscular sense. In the first place, it is the sensations of resistance which give the child its immediate knowledge of the deepest and most characteristic property of material things, viz., what is known as impenetrability, under its various modes, as hardness, density, inelasticity, etc. The mere sense of pressure gained by way of an im- mobile organ, say a paralyzed limb, could never supply any distinct knowledge of this property ; this is directly revealed in the experience of exerting our own energy and finding it impeded by a force other than our own. All our customary estimates of the degrees of hardness, etc., of substances, are arrived at by the aid of muscular discrimination. Further, the discrimination of weight, though possible to a certain extent by way of passive touch, is much more accurate when the muscular sense is HEARING. 95 called in to help; If a person wants to estimate a weight nicely, he lifts it and judges by means of the degree of force he has to expend in so doing. In the second place, the sensations of movement are an important factor in the knowledge of the extendedness of things, of the relative position of points, and of the shape and size of objects. The rudimentary and vague knowledge obtainable by means of the local discrimina- tion of the skin needs to be rendered distinct and exact by means of movement. Thus, as any one can prove for himself, the idea of the shape and size of a small pencil, or of a ring, is made much clearer when we pass the finger-tip along it or round it, and so judge of it by the direction and length of the movements. The blind habitually examine the form of objects by the aid of movement. Hearing. The sense of hearing ranks high both as a source of pleasure and as an intellectual or knowledge- giving sense. The sensations which form the material of music, those of pitch, together with their combinations in rhythm, melody, etc., are among the most agreeable of our sense-experiences. But the refined pleasures of music presuppose intellectual capability in the shape of the dis- crimination of notes, etc. The intellectual value of hear- ing is due to the high degree of definiteness of its sen- sations. In respect both of intensity and of quality fine differences are recognizable. The high intellectual character of hearing shows itself very conspicuously in the qualitative differences among sensations of sound. We have here the broad contrast between musical and non-musical sounds or noises. The former depend on regularly recurring or periodic vibra- tions of the air, the latter on irregularly recurring or non- periodic vibrations. In the case of musical sounds we have the remarkable phenomenon of a scale of quality. If we pass upward from a low note to a higher one 96 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. through all distinguishable gradations, we experience a continuous variation of sensation which is known as that of pitch or height. These differences of pitch answer to changes in the rate of vibration of the medium (the atmosphere) ; the higher the note, the more rapid are the vibrations. Our musical scale is made up of distinct steps or intervals of this continuous series of gradual changes. Along with this scale of pitch-quality, there are the differences known as timbre or "musical quality." These are the qualitative differences in sensations of tone an- swering to differences in the instrument, as the piano, the violin, the human voice. In addition to this wide range of musical sensation the ear distinguishes a vast number of non-musical sounds, the characteristic " noises " of different substances, such as the roar of the sea, the rustling of leaves, and the crack of a whip. We distinguish noises as jarring, grating, ex- plosive, and so on. It is this side of hearing which is of value for the knowledge of external things. The child learns to recognize the characteristic sounds produced by moving objects, as the plash of water, the rumbling of wheels, etc. Finally, there are what are known as articulate sounds, those which constitute the elements of speech. These differ from one another partly in point of musical quality. Thus, it has been recently ascertained that the several vowel-sounds differ from one another in much the same way as the tones of different musical instruments. On the other hand, the differences of consonantal sounds are non- musical in character. In the ordinary classification of these into the gutturals, sibilants, etc., we find differences analogous to those among noises. Enough has been said to illustrate the high degree of refinement characterizing the sense of hearing. The deli- cate and far-reaching discrimination of quality, aided by SIGHT. 97 the fine discrimination of duration, enables the ear to ac- quire a good deal of exact information, as well as to gain a considerable amount of refined pleasure. The delight of music sums up the chief part of the latter. The former is illustrated in the wide range of knowledge derived by way of that system of articulate sounds known as language. As a set-off against these advantages, we see that hear- ing has very little local discrimination. We can not dis- tinguish two or more simultaneous sounds with any nicety according to the position of their external source. Nor is the organ of hearing endowed with mobility as the hand is. Hence, hearing gives us no direct knowledge of the most important properties of objects, their size and shape. Sight. The sense of sight is by common consent allowed the first place in the scale of refinement. To this fact there corresponds the delicate and intricate structure of the organ, and the subtile nature of the stimulus (ether- vibration). The eye surpasses all other sense-organs both in the range and in the delicacy of its impressions. These are at once the source of some of the purest and most re- fined enjoyment, the pleasures of light, color, and form, and of some of the most valuable of our knowledge. In the first place, the eye is fairly discriminative of degree. These degrees answer to all distinguishable grades of brightness or luminosity from the self-luminous bodies which we are only just capable of looking at, down to the objects which reflect a minimum of light, and are known as black. This discrimination is very fine, as may be seen in our ability to note subtile differences of light and shade, and this delicacy is of the greatest importance in the visual discrimination of objects. In sight, again, we have numerous and fine differences of quality. Of these the most important are color-differ- ences. The impressions of color, like those of pitch, fall into a series of gradual changes. Passing from one ex- tremity of the spectrum (or rainbow) scale to another, the 7 98 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. eye experiences a series of perfectly gradual transitions. These changes fall into the series, violet, blue, green, yel- low, orange, and red, together with certain finer distinc- tions, as indigo-blue, greenish blue. These differences of quality accompany (as in the case of pitch-sensations) changes in the rapidity of the vibrations of the stimulus, viz., the rays of light. The rays at the violet end have more rapid vibrations than those at the red end. These color-impressions, while an important element of artistic pleasure, are of great intellectual importance. The eye learns to know and to recognize things in part by means of their colors. In addition to these differences of degree and quality in the sensations of sight, we have in this sense, as in that of touch, two endowments which furnish the basis of a perception of extension and space, including the form and magnitude of objects. The first of these is the discrimi- nation of points by means of the distinct nerve-fibers, which terminate in a mosaic-like arrangement in the retina. Owing to this endowment, we can distinguish two points of light, say two stars, when they lie very near one another. This discrimination of points is finest in the central region of the retina, known as the area of perfect vision. It "is by aid of this local discrimination that we are able in one glance to distinguish a number of details of form, such as the various parts of a flower or the several letters of a word. . Valuable as this retinal discrimination of points is in the perception of form, it needs to be supplemented by the muscular activity of the eye. The organ of sight is supplied with a system of muscles, by means of which it executes a large variety of delicate and precise movements. Sight is thus, like touch, an active sense. One result of this activity, as in the case of touch, is to bring the most sensitive part of the organ opposite the object we wish to examine. In fixing the eye on a point, we are obtaining a SENSE-IMPRESSIONS. 99 retinal image of it on the area of perfect vision. Another result is that, in the act of moving the eye from point to point of an object or of a scene, we bring the muscular sense into play, and thus gain a better impression of the relative position of the visible points, and of the form and magnitude of objects. It is by tracing the path of a line with the eye that we can best appreciate its perfect straight- ness, or the exact degree of its curvature. In early life more particularly this is the customary mode of acquiring knowledge of form. Attention to Sense-Impressions. For the pro- duction of clear sense-impressions it is not enough that the sense-organ be stimulated. There must be a reaction of the brain-centers and the co-operation of the mind in the act of attention. Till this reaction follows, the im- pression must, as pointed out in the preceding chapter, remain vague and indistinct. This direction of mental activity to an impression is the immediate condition of assimilating it as intellectual material. By fixing the men- tal glance on it, the intellectual functions are brought to bear on it, and so it is drawn into the store of our mental possessions, ready to be woven into the fabric of knowl- edge. Discrimination of Sensation. At any one time we may be acted upon by a multitude of external stimuli, sights, sounds, etc. These present themselves at first as a blurred or confused mass. The direction of attention to any one of them separates it from the adjacent crowd and gives distinctness to it. This fact may also be ex- pressed by saying that it is "differenced " or discriminated. To have a clear and definite sensation is to distinguish it as something from the other sensations immediately pre- ceding and accompanying it. As we have seen, this dis- crimination is much finer in the case of the higher senses touch, hearing, and sight. Identification of Sense-Impressions. The direc- 100 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. tion of the attention to a sense-impression leads on not only to the discrimination of it. After the repetition of sensations of color, for example, a new sensation is at once identified, as one of yellow, green. This involves the persistence of traces of past similar sensations, and is a rudimentary form of that assimilation of new material to old on which all intellectual development depends. Identification is exact in proportion to the fineness of the discrimination. If a child can only say a certain col- or is red, without being able to identify the precise shade of red, he shows that his discrimination of color is only partially developed. Growth of Sense-Capacity. From the above, it follows that there is an improvement of sense as life ad- vances. Although the child has the same sense-organs and the same fundamental modes of sensibility as the man, his sensations are more crude, vague, and ill-defined. The repeated exercise of the senses in connection with and under the control of attention leads to the gradual differentiation of the several orders of sense-impression, and the rendering of them definite in their character. This growth of sense involves two things : (a) an increas- ing power of sense-discrimination, and (l>) a growth in the power of identifying impressions through the cumulation of " traces." In other words, our senses become more delicate or acute in distinguishing impressions, and more quick or keen in identifying them. Improvement of Sense-Discrimination. Of these two aspects of sense-improvement, the discriminative is the more important, since it limits the other. The infant's sensations are at first confused one with another. The first distinctions (next to that of the pleasurable and pain- ful) are those of degree or quantity. Thus, the visual im- pressions of light and darkness, of a bright and a dark surface, are distinguished before those of colors. As the senses are exercised, and attention brought to bear on VARYING SENSE-CAPACITY. JO I their impressions, discrimination improves. With respect both to degree and to quality this improvement is gradual, beginning with the detection of broad and striking con- trasts, and proceeding to that of finer differences. Thus, the contrast of loud and soft, of heavy and light, is arrived at long before nice differences of loudness or weight. Similarly, the contrast of the reds with the blues is arrived at before the finer differences between the several sorts of red.* In this way the senses become more acute with ex- ercise. Differences of Sense-Capacity. Striking differ- ences of sense-capacity present themselves among differ- ent individuals. These are of various kinds. Thus, A may be superior to B in respect of what is called absolute sensibility, or the quickness of response to stimulus. One child is much more readily impressed by a faint smell or sound than another. The tendency to respond to a very weak stimulus, coupled with good retentive or identifying power, would constitute a keen sense in the full meaning of the word, that is, one which readily notes and identifies impressions. From these differences we must carefully separate in- equalities in discriminative power. This is the important in- tellectual side of sense-capacity. It is found to character- ize the more educated and intellectual classes. It does not vary with absolute sensibility. A may be more quickly responsive to a stimulus than B, and yet not be more dis- criminative. These differences of discriminative capacity may be of a more general, or of a special kind. Thus, A may sur- * The exact order in which the colors are distinguished is not cer- tain, and probably varies somewhat in the case of different children. Prof. Preyer experimented with his little boy at the age of two, and found that he learned to identify colors on hearing their names in the following order : yellow, red, lilac, green, and blue. (" Die Seele des Kindes," p. 6, etc. ; cf. Perez, " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 26, etc.) 102 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. pass B in his average sense-discrimination. Or he may surpass the other in some special mode of discriminative sensibility, as in the discrimination of colors or tones. These inequalities are partly native and connected with differences in the organs engaged. Good average discriminative power probably implies from the first a fine organization of the brain as a whole and special concen- trative ability, whereas a particularly fine sensibility to color, to tone, and so on, is connected rather with original structural excellence of the particular sense-organ con- cerned. It is this which fixes and limits the ultimate de- gree of delicacy reached. A child naturally dull in dis- tinguishing notes or colors will never become finely dis- criminative in this particular region. At the same time, the remarkable superiority of certain individuals (and race:) over others in respect of definite varieties of dis- criminative sensibility presupposes special concentration of mind and prolonged exercise of the discriminative func- tion in this particular domain of impressions. This is strikingly illustrated in the exceptional delicacy attained by those who have occasion to employ a sense much more than other people. In this way we account for the fine tactile sensibility of the blind, the delicate gustatory sensi- bility of wine- or tea-tasters, and so on. The Training of the Senses. By the training or cultivation of the senses is meant the systematic exercis- ing of the sense-organs (and of the attention in connec- tion of these) so as to make them efficient instruments of observation and discovery. The first branch of this train- ing is the developing by suitable exercises of the discrim- inative side of the senses. The special object of this branch is to render the senses quick and exact in seizing the precise shades of difference among the several impres- sions presented to them. And the importance of this exercise in sense-discrimination depends on the fact that, in proportion as we discriminate our sense-impressions MENTAL ELEMENT IN SENSATION. 103 finely, shall we be able to distinguish and know objects accurately, and, as a result of this, be afterward able to call up distinct images of them, and to think and reason about them. Indeed, distinct and sharply defined sense- impressions are the first condition of clear imagination and exact thinking. The child that confuses its impres- sions of color, form, etc., will as a consequence be only able to imagine and think in a hazy and confused manner. 10 The exercise of the senses implies the direction of attention on the part of the child to what is present. It is thus, strictly speaking, the exercises of the mind under the stimulus of sense-impressions. Sense-knowledge is gained by the young mind coming into contact with things immediately, and not mediately by the intervention of another mind. Hence the function of the educator in this first stage of the growth of knowledge is a limited one. A good part of the exercise of the senses in early life goes on, and it is fortunate that it does so, with very little help from mother or nurse. The child's own ac- tivity, if he is healthy and robust, will urge him to use his eyes, his hands, and other organs in exploring things about him. Nevertheless, a good deal may be done indirectly to help on this process of acquisition. The mother has the control of the child's surroundings, and may do much to hasten or retard the development of sense-knowledge by a wise attention to them or an indolent neglect of them. To supply children from the first with suitable materials for the exercise of their sense-organs, is the first and probably most important part of what is meant by train- ing the senses, at least in very early life. Next to this comes the more direct co-operation of mother, nurse, or teacher in directing their attention to unnoticed sights and sounds, etc., in their surroundings. Method of Training. The training of the senses begins with the exercising the child in the discrimination IO4 THE SENSES: SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. and along with this in the identification of impressions. This may be carried out in a less systematic way in the nursery. The infant's surroundings, the toys to be handled, the pictures to be looked at, and even the tones of voice used in addressing it, should be chosen with a view to a sufficient variety of impression. The natural order of sense-development must be followed, the first differences brought under his notice being broad contrasts, as that of a hard and soft material, blue and yellow colors, high and low tones, and finer distinctions following. With variety should go a certain amount of repetition of im- pressions, so that the pupil be exercised in identifying im- pressions. Hence the surroundings should not be con- tinually changed. A measure of sameness and perma- nence is necessary to thorough familiarity with the various sorts of sense-material. A more systematic procedure can be gradually intro- duced, aiming at a full and accurate knowledge of the several sense-elements. Thus, in training the color-sense the educator may best proceed by selecting first of all a few bright and striking colors, as white, red, and blue. Each of these must be made familiar and its name learned. After being presented separately, they should be shown in juxtaposition, so that the differences may be clearly seen. This involves a rudimentary exercise of the faculty of comparison which in its higher form plays an important part in thought. Juxtaposition, or the bringing of two things side by side in space, or, as in the case of sounds, in immediate succession in time, is the most valuable instrument in exercising the senses. By seeing two colors side by side, the individual character of each is made more apparent, and the precise amount of difference ap- preciated. When a few elements have thus been thoroughly learned, new ones may be added. In this way the child will not only add to its stock of sense-materials, but will DANGER OF OVER-EXERTION. 105 have its former impressions rendered still more definite by a grasp of more numerous and finer differences. Thus, by adding yellow, orange, and so on, the learner will at- tain to more distinct ideas of what is meant by red. It must not be forgotten that these finer exercises in sense-discrimination imply a severe effort of attention, and are apt to be felt as a strain at first, both to the sense-organ concerned, and to the brain. And it is of the highest im- portance not to push them to the point of fatigue. Thus in training the eye to a minute detection of differences of form in letters, etc., and the hand to the nice reproduc- tion of these differences, there is special danger of over- stimulating the organ and inducing fatigue, and, if per- sisted in, of causing injury to the organ. If, however, the risk of over-exertion be avoided, it is possible, by proceeding judiciously, not only to keep these exercises from becoming wearisome, but even to make them positively agreeable. The main source of a pleas- urable interest here is the child's love of activity, mental and bodily. The very employment of the sense-organs is a pleasure to the healthy and strong child. This pleasure will be the greater when muscular activity is also enlisted, and an appeal made to the little one's nascent feeling of power. Thus, in training the color-sense, after presenting unlike and like colors to the child's notice, he may be en- couraged to select and sort the colors for himself. The active exercises of painting, drawing, and singing, in order to reproduce impressions of sight and sound, are the best means of training the corresponding senses. Training of the Several Senses. All the senses need exercise, but in different ways. The lower senses, being of but little value as knowledge-giving senses, claim less consideration from the intellectual educator. The cultivation and control of the palate have, however, an im- portant bearing on physical education, on the disciplining of the body to healthy habits ; and the due limitation of 106 THE SENSES; SENSE-DISCRIMINATION. the pleasures of taste, the checking of that common child- ish vice, Nascherei, is one of the most valuable among the early exercises in the virtue of temperance. Again, the cultivation of the sense of smell, of sensibility to the odors of flower and herb, pasture and wood, summer and autumn, is an important ingredient in the formation of aesthetic taste, and more especially the development of that love of nature which is a prime factor in all real en- joyment of poetry. From its great importance, touch claims special con- sideration in the education of the senses. The develop- ment of this sense is secured, to a large extent, by the child's own spontaneous promptings to handle and ex- amine things. Still, the teacher may supplement this irregular self-instruction by special systematic exercises. The Kindergarten occupations, such as stick-laying, paper- folding, modeling in clay, etc., all serve to increase the discriminative sensibility of the organ of touch on its pas- sive and on its active side. The teaching of the rudi- ments of drawing and writing completes this branch of sense-training. The perfect command of the hand in ex- ecuting movements with a nice precision is the outcome of a fine muscular sensibility developed by special con- centration of the attention, and by practice. 11 The training of the ear is a well-acknowledged depart- ment of elementary education. In learning to articulate and to read, the child is called on first of all to distinguish a number of elementary sounds as well as to discriminate combinations of these. Along with this the muscular sense is exercised in so managing the organ of speech as to reproduce the precise sound required. Much the same holds good with respect to the systematic exercise of the ear in. singing. Here, too, sounds have to be distin- guished and identified. The first condition of singing accurately is to have a finely discriminative ear which will instantly detect the slightest degree of flatness or sharp- TRAIMNG OF THE SEVERAL SENSES. 107 ness in the notes sung. And in conjunction with this, the vocal organ must be exercised so that the modifications answering to differences of pitch and force may be clearly distinguished and retained for future use. The eye calls for the most careful and prolonged train- ing, on account both of its intellectual and its aesthetic im- portance. A systematic training of the color-sense, some- what after the plan roughly sketched above, is a desidera- tum both as an element of taste and as a matter of prac- tical utility. And a careful discipline of the sense of form on its passive and active side is included in the recognized school exercises of reading, drawing, writing, etc. In truth, in this early stage of education the cultivation of the eyes goes on in close association with that of the hand. The whole fruit of this companionship will appear by-and-by. The separate exercise of the eye in the discrimination of form-elements is illustrated in learning to read printed let- ters as well as in the study of geometry. Nowhere, perhaps, is the limit of the teacher's power more plainly seen than in the education of the senses. Since discriminative power depends on concentration of mind and practice, the child's ability to discriminate col- ors, tones, elements of form, etc., may be improved by ju- dicious learning. Still, in every case a limit is sure to be reached in time, beyond which no further distinctions are possible. This limit, set by the structural perfection of the organ concerned, is a different one for different chil- dren. A child born note-deaf, for example, can never be drilled into a fine discriminator of tones. Hence the need of varying these exercises according to the capacity of the pupil and the results obtainable from the exercise. APPENDIX. A useful account of the senses, from a physiological point of view, is contained in Prof. Bernstein's " Five Senses of Man." llm CHAPTER VIII. THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. Definition of Perception. Sense-impressions are the alphabet by which we spell out the objects presented to us. In order to grasp or apprehend these objects, these letters must be put together after the manner of words. Thus, the apprehension of an apple by the eye involves the putting together of various sensations of sight, touch, and taste. This is the mind's own work, and is known as per- ception. And the result of this activity, i. e., the distinct apprehension of some object, is called^ a percept. We see from this that perception is an act of the mind. In the reception of the sense-impression, the mind is pas- sive, dependent on the action of an external force ; but in construing this as the sign of some external object, it is essentially active. Perception is mental activity employed about sense-impressions with a view to knowledge. The first stage of this activity was discussed in the last chapter, under the head of sense-discrimination. This corresponds to the learning of the several letters. We have now to consider the second stage, that corresponding to the learn- ing of words and their meanings. We have to explain how a child comes to regard its sense-impressions as signs of the presence of certain external objects, as, for exam- ple, certain sensations of sound as indications of a bell ringing, a dog barking, etc. How Percepts are reached. The seemingly simple HO W PERCEPTS ARE REACHED. 109 act of referring a sense-impression to an external object is the result of a process of learning or acquisition. As lit- tle as a child at first knows the meaning of a word till experience has taught him, so little is he able to construe his sense-impressions as the signs of objects. In the first weeks of life a child can not recognize the external source of the sounds that strike on his ear. He has not learned to connect the sound of the mother's voice with the mother he sees ; nor has he even learned to recognize the direc- tion of a sound, as is clearly shown by the blank, wonder- ing look of his face, and the absence of a proper move- ment of the head and eyes in the direction of the sound. The apprehension of an object, say a bell, by the ear, involves two mental processes : The first is the discrimi- nation and identification of the impression. In order to know that a particular impression of sound is that of a bell, it must be identified as this impression and not anoth- er, say that of a voice. This constitutes the first step in the process of perception. It may be marked off as the presentative or prehensive element. It presupposes pre- vious experience of the impressions. Thus the child can not identify a particular sound as that of a bell till after a number of repetitions of this impression. In the second place, the apprehension of the bell im- plies that this particular impression has been interpreted as coming from a particular object, viz., the bell. And this means that on hearing this sound the child recalls the ap- pearance of the bell to sight and its tactile qualities, hard- ness, weight, etc. That is to say, the one actual sensation of the moment, that of the sound, has recalled and rein- stated a whole group of impressions answering to the several features or qualities which constitute the object. This sec- ond step may be called the interpretative or apprehensive part of the process. And since the impressions recalled are not directly presented but only represented, this step is further known as the representative one. This act of HO THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. construing or interpreting the impression presupposes that in the child's past experience the impression of sound has become connected with other impressions. We see from this that the interpretation of sense-im- pressions presupposes previous processes of a complex kind, viz., discriminating a number of sensations of differ- ent senses, and grouping or organizing these into a coher- ent whole. There are thus two stages in the development of percepts: (i) the initial stage of examining things, by way of the different senses and learning to know them ; and (2) the final stage of knowing again or recognizing a thing. Special Channels of Perception. The sensation of each sense tends to recall the other sensations of the group to which they belong, and so are capable of being interpreted by an act of perception. Thus, a child refers sensations of smell to objects, as when he says, " I smell apples," just as he refers sensations of light and color to objects, as when he says, " I see a candle." Nevertheless, when we talk of perceiving we generally refer to knowl- edge gained at the time through one of the higher senses, and more particularly sight. To perceive a thing means, in every-day parlance, to see it. Where sight is wanting, touch assumes the function of the leading perceptual sense ; and even in the case of those who see, touch is an important medium of apprehending objects. Sight and touch are thus in a special manner channels of perception. The reason why the senses of touch and sight are thus distinguished has been hinted at in the previous chapter. We there saw that they were marked off from the other senses by having local discrimination and an accompani- ment of muscular sensation. Owing to these circumstances, these two senses supply us with a wider and more varied knowledge of objects than the other senses. In smelling a flower, or hearing the noise of a passing vehicle, I can only seize one aspect or quality of a thing ; in looking at PERCEPTIONS OF TOUCH. m it I instantly take in a number of aspects, as its color, shape, and size. The additional knowledge, gained by means of local discrimination and movement, is, moreover, of a most im- portant kind. This includes first the knowledge of the position of things, and along with this a knowledge of their "geometrical" or space properties, viz., figure and magnitude. And, secondly, it includes a knowledge of their " mechanical " or force properties, viz., resistance under its several forms of hardness, weight, etc., as made known by active touch. And these properties are the most essential, forming the kernel, so to speak, of what we mean by a material object. Touch and sight do not stand on precisely the same level as channels of perception. For, first of all, as we shall see presently, the knowledge of geometric properties is fuller and more direct in the case of touch than in that of sight. And, secondly, with respect to the important mechanical properties, hardness, weight, etc., our knowl- edge is altogether derived from touch. Hence, tactile apprehension is to be regarded as the primary and most fundamental form of perception. Perceptions of Touch. These may be roughly di- vided into (i) perceptions of space and extension, and more especially the position, form, and magnitude of objects; and (2) perceptions of things as concrete wholes, such as a pebble, an orange, etc. The first kind of perception may be illustrated by the way in which a child learns the shape and size of a cube, say a small wooden brick. Here the sensibility of the skin to pressure, its local discrimination, and, lastly, the mus=. cular sense, all combine in the development of the percept. The form of one of the surfaces is ascertained in different ways : (i) by moving the fingers over it in various direc- tions and noting how long the contact with the body lasts ; (2) by passing the fingers about the boundary of the sur- H2 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. face and noting the uniformity of the direction of the movement along each edge, the length of the movement, and the change of direction at the angles ; and (3) by plac- ing the extended hand over the surface and noting, by means of the local discrimination of the skin, where the edges touch the hand. The knowledge of any one of its surfaces would thus involve the grouping of many sense- elements together, and the knowledge of the whole cubical form would further involve the grouping of a number of these groups together and the completion of this aggregate of experiences by taking the brick into the two hands, and so gaining a clearer idea of its solidity. After repeating this complex act of tactile inspection again and again, the different members of the group would cohere so closely that the recurrence of a part would suf- fice to reinstate the whole. Thus the child, on merely taking the brick into his hands, would recall the successive experiences of movement just described. That, in this way, a child is able to gain very clear perceptions of form, is seen in the fact that the blind are capable of picturing and reasoning about geometrical forms with great clear- ness. And even in the case of children who have the use of their eyes, the earliest impressions of form are gained from tangible bodies, and to a large extent by the medium of active touch. In apprehending the presence of a whole concrete thing, as a pebble, this group of impressions would be taken up into a still larger aggregate. Thus, in learning what a pebble is, a child connects what he has observed respecting its form with the hardness, coldness, smooth- ness, and weight. His knowledge of the pebble is the re- sult of all this various sense-experience organized or united into a seemingly simple mental product. Where, as in the case of an apple or an orange, the other senses supply im- portant elements (color, taste, and smell), the group of tactile impressions is ample for a subsequent identification PERCEPTION OF FORM BY THE EYE. 113 of the object. The child, on touching an orange, instantly apprehends the thing as a whole, that is, recognizes it as an orange. Visual Perception. As remarked above, sight is in normal circumstances the leading avenue of perception. This supremacy is due in part to the fact that in looking we can apprehend things at a distance as well as near, and also a number of objects at the same time, as the pictures on the wall, the buildings of a street, etc. To this must be added the fact that when we see things we can tell how they would appear to touch. In other words, we translate visual impressions into terms of the earlier and more ele- mentary experiences of active touch. Seeing is thus to a large extent a representative process and an interpretative act of the mind. Perception of Form by the Eye. In the perception of form the eye is up to a certain point independent of the hand. Thus, in learning the direction and length of lines, and the form and magnitude of objects as they might be drawn on a blackboard, the organ of sight is developing its own mode of perception. This visual perception, it is plain, resembles the tactile perception in so far as it arises out of a number of experiences, passive and active. Thus, in finding out, by looking at the gable of a house, what a triangle is, the child combines the experience gained in moving the eye about the contour, with the composite im- pression obtained by the local discrimination of the several parts by the retina. The precise direction and length of each line presuppose these movements of the eye along the outline of the object. It is only when these have been executed many times that the perception of form by he eye at rest becomes distinct. And this means that in look- ing at a figure the impression of the retina suffices to recall the experience of the moving eye. The perception of any form, such as a cross, an ellipse, or the letter M, is the outcome of a process of combining 114 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. a number of form-elements or details and clearly appre- hending their relations one to another. Thus, in appre- hending the form of the cross the learner must distinguish the vertical and horizontal arm, observing their directions as well as their relative lengths. The more exactly each element is discriminated, and the more clearly the rela- tions of position, proportion, and number are seized, the more perfect the final percept. This perception of form as plane form, or form as it can be represented on a flat surface, as a blackboard, is, however, fragmentary and abstract. The forms of real objects from which a child first gains his knowledge are those of solid bodies having the third dimension, thick- ness or depth as well as length and breadth. We see one part of the surface of a sphere nearer the eye or advanc- ing, another part farther off or receding. This discrimi- nation of a solid form as distinguished from a flat drawing involves the perception of distance. Perception of Distance and Solidity. The modern "Theory of Vision," of which Bishop Berkeley was the author, tells us that the perception of distance, though apparently as direct as that of color, is really indirect and acquired. In seeing an object at a certain distance, we are really interpreting visual impressions by a reference to movement of the limbs and to touch. We can only real- ize the distance of an object by traversing, either with the arm or with the whole body, the space that intervenes be- tween us and it. According to this doctrine, children do not at first see things as we see them, one nearer than another. This is proved by the experience of blind children on first obtain- ing the use of their eyes. All objects appear to such as touching the eyes. And they can not distinguish between a flat drawing and a solid body. It is only after using their eyes for some time that they learn to distinguish near and far. The development of the perception of distance PERCEPTION OF DISTANCE AND SOLIDITY. 115 takes place by the use of sight and touch together. A child finds out how far a thing is from himself by moving his limbs. Thus, an infant sitting up at a table finds out the distance of something on the table by stretching out its hands and noting how far it has to reach before it touches the thing. When it is able to run about, the movements of its legs become another measure of distance. In carrying out these movements the eyes are also employed. The child notes the difference to the eye when the object is near and when it is farther away. Thus, he observes that he has to make his eyes turn inward or converge more in the former case, and that the object looks more distinct. After many repetitions he learns to connect these experi- ences of active touch and these changing effects on the eye. When this process of grouping or organizing experi- ences is complete, the recurrence of the proper visual ex- perience at once suggests the corresponding experience of movement and touch. Thus the sensation of muscular strain in looking at a near object instantly tells him that the object is near and within his reach. The visual sen- sation has become a sign of a fact known by the use of his limbs. Seeing distance is thus a kind of reading, and the meaning of the impression on the eye, like that of the letters in a book, has to be learned from experience.* The perception of solid bodies illustrates the same thing. Here, too, the child has to interpret his visual im- pressions by the aid of past experience and the knowledge gained by active touch. That the eye has little knowledge of solidity is seen in the fact that even an adult may easi- ly be deceived in taking flat drawings for solid objects (e. g., in the scenery of a theatre). The only way in which we can distinctly realize that an object has thickness is by taking it into the two hands. * The perception of the real magnitude of an object, as distin- guished from the apparent magnitude which varies with the distance, is closely connected with that of distance. Il6 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. The apprehension of solidity by the eye is effected by means of certain signs. Thus, we can move the eye from a near to a more distant part of an object, and note the "difference in muscular sensations of the eyes. Even when we do not move the eye, we have something to guide us in the dissimilarity of the two retinal impressions. In look- ing at a flat picture each eye receives a precisely similar impression ; but in looking at a solid body their impres- sions differ. Thus, in looking at a book held a little in front of the face with its back toward us, our left eye sees more of the left cover, while the right eye sees more of the right. It is by noting this dissimilarity, and connecting it with the fact of solidity as known by active touch, that a child learns to recognize a solid object with the eyes.* Intuition of Things. In looking at an object, as in touching it, we apprehend simultaneously a group of qualities. These include first of all purely visual features, as its degree of brightness, the distribution of light and shade on its surface, its color (or distribution of colors), and the form and (apparent) magnitude of its surface. Along with these come the closely organized combinations of sight and touch, viz., the solid shape, and the nature of the surface as rough or smooth, f This may be called the fundamental part of our intuition of a particular object. In looking at a new object, as a crystal or a botanical specimen, we instantly intuit or take in this group of qualities, and they constitute a considerable amount of knowledge about the object as a whole. In order to know the thing as a whole, so as afterward to be able to recog- nize it with the eye, this aggregate must be conjoined with other qualities known by touch and by the other senses. * The fact that the perception of solidity depends mainly on the presence of two unlike visual impressions is proved by the stereoscope, the two drawings of which, taken from different points of view, answer to the two retinal images of a solid body. f This is made known to sight by differences of light and shade. PERCEPTION OF OUR OWN BODY. 117 Thus, in recognizing an orange a child invests it more or less distinctly with a particular degree of hardness, weight, and temperature, as well as with a certain taste and smell. The recognition of a thing as identical with something previously perceived is a complex psychical process. It involves not only the identification of a definite group of impressions, but also the germ of a higher intellectual process, namely, the comparison of successive impressions, and the detection of similarity amid diversity or change. Thus, a child learns to identify a particular object, as his mother, or his dog, at different distances and in different lights, and a matter of still greater difficulty according to the particular position and visible aspect of the object, as seen from the front or from the side, etc. Children require a certain amount of experience and practice before they recognize identity amid such varying aspects. And in this they are greatly aided by hearing others call the thing by the same name. Perception of our own Body. In close connection with the perception of external objects the child comes to know the several parts of his own body. The sensa- tions which are not referred to external bodies are local- ized by us in some part of our organism. Thus, organic sensations, as skin-sensations of " creeping," muscular sensations of cramp or fatigue, are localized in some defi- nite region of the body, the arm, or the foot. And the deep-seated feelings of comfort and discomfort connected with the organs of digestion, etc., are also localized in a less definite and vague manner. Such references are not possible at the beginning of life. A child has to learn where his bodily sensations are located ; and this he does by learning to know the several parts of his body. The child's own body, like an external object, is known by means of the impressions it supplies to his senses, and more particularly touch and sight. An infant examines its legs, arms, etc., with its hands. By frequent excur- Il8 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. sions of these over the surface of the body, the position, shape, and size of the several parts become known. The eyes, too, are engaged in these early observations, so that a visual picture is gradually put together and combined with the tactile perception. As this knowledge of the bodily form is developed the several bodily sensations become better localized. Thus, in inspecting his feet with his hands the child is producing sensations of pressure in the former. In this way the sensations having their origin in that particular region of the bodily surface come to be definitely connected with that part as known to touch and sight. After this, whenever the child receives a sensation by way of the nerves running to that part, he knows at once that it is his foot that is giving him the sensation. To a child his bodily organism is marked off from all other objects by the fact that it is connected in a peculiar way with his conscious life, and more particularly his feel- ings of pleasure and pain. The experience of pressing his foot with his hand differs from that of pressing a for- eign body, inasmuch as there is not only a sensation in the hand, but an additional one in the foot. Injuries to the several parts of the bodily surface, and the applica- tion of agreeable stimuli, as soft touches, come to be rec- ognized as causes of painful and pleasurable sensation. In these ways he comes to regard his body as that by which he suffers pain and pleasure. At the same time he learns that the movements of his body are immediately under the control of his wishes, that his limbs are the instruments by which he reacts on his environment, alter- ing the position of objects, etc. Hence his body is re- garded as a part of himself, and in early life probably makes up the chief part of the meaning of the word " self." It is contrasted with all other and foreign objects, and in a special way with the other human organisms he sees around him. Observation. All perception requires some degree DISTINCT AND ACCURATE OBSERVATION. 119 of attention to what is present. But we are often able to discriminate and recognize an object by a momentary glance, which suffices to take in a few prominent marks. Similarly, we are able by a cursory glance to recognize a movement or action of an object. Such incomplete fugi- tive perception is ample for rough, every-day purposes. On the other hand, we sometimes need to throw a special degree of mental activity into perception, so as to note completely and accurately what is present. This is par- ticularly the case with new and unfamiliar objects. Such a careful direction of the mind to objects is commonly spoken of as observation. To observe is to look at a thing closely, to take careful note of its several parts or details. In its higher form, known as scientific observa- tion, it implies too a deliberate selection of an object or action for special consideration, a close concentration of the attention on it, and an orderly going to work with a view to obtain the most exact account of a phenomenon. Hence we may call observation regulated perception. Distinct and Accurate Observation. Good ob- servation must be precise and free from taint of error. Many persons' observations are vague and wanting in full- ness of detail and precision. The habit of close and ac- curate observation of things, their features and their move- ments, etc., is one of the rarest of possessions. It presup- poses a strong interest in what is going on around us. This is illustrated in the fact that a child always observes closely and accurately when he is very deeply concerned, as, for example, in scrutinizing his mother's expression when he is not quite sure whether she is talking seriously to him or not. Good observation presupposes two things: (i) the ac- curate noting of what is directly presented to the eye, or the perfect performance of the prehensive part of the pro- cess, and (2) a just interpretation of the visual impression, or the perfect performance of the second or apprehensive 120 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. part of the operation. Defects in the first are very com- mon. Children fail to note the exact form and size of objects, their situation relatively to other objects, etc. To see a number of objects in their real order, so as to be able to describe them accurately, is a matter of close, painstaking observation. Any defect in the prehensive part of the process natu- rally leads on to faulty interpretation. Hasty and slovenly observation of color, form, or magnitude leads the young to false ideas of the objects they see, as when a child mis- takes a lemon for an orange, two boys romping for two boys fighting. And even if the visual element is carefully noted, there will be an error of interpretation when the impression of the eye has not been firmly connected with the tactile and other experiences to which it is related as parts of one whole experience. Thus, if a child after see- ing some simple experiments with metals fails to properly connect the several properties of malleability, fusibility, with the lead, iron, etc., the sight of a piece of one of the metals will be apt to reinstate the wrong properties. We thus see that accurate knowing or recognition depends on a careful learning or coming to know. Defective and inaccurate observation is hindered by mental preoccupation. Dreamy and absent-minded chil- dren are, as a rule, bad observers. They only see things indistinctly as in a haze. Anything, too, in the shape of excitement and emotional agitation is inimical to careful observation, because it is apt to excite vivid expectations of what is going on, and so to lead to delusive perception. Thus, if a child strongly desires to go out, it is disposed to think that the rain has ceased when it is really still fall- ing. Emotional children are very apt to read what they wish and vividly imagine into the objects before them. We see, then, that while perception has its representa- tive element, that while the child who distinguishes his visual impressions accurately but is unable to interpret ACQUIREMENT OF DISCRIMINATION. 121 them never attains to anything but useless scraps of knowl- edge, this representative factor has to be kept within due limits, and not allowed to hide from view what is actually before the eyes. The highest kind of observation combines accuracy with quickness. In many departments of observation, as watching people's expressions and actions, or the scientific observation of a rapid process of physical movement or change, such as an astronomical and chemical investiga- tion, rapidity is of the first consequence. Development of Perceptual Power. Our analysis of perception has suggested the way in which our percepts are gradually built up and perfected. In the first weeks of life there is little if any recognition of outer things. The child receives visual impressions, but these are not yet referred to external objects. It is by the daily re- newed conjunctions of simple sense-experiences, and more particularly those of sight and of touch, that the little learner comes to refer its impressions to objects. By con- tinually looking at the objects handled, the visual percep- tion of direction becomes perfected, as also that of dis- tance within certain limits. The child learns to put out his hand in the exact direction of an object, and to move it just far enough.* The perception of the distance and solidity of more remote objects remains very imperfect before locomotion is attained. The change of visible scene as the child is carried about the room impresses * A child known to the present writer was first seen to stretch out his hand to an object when two and a half months old. The hand misses the exact point at first, passing beside it, but practice gives pre- cision to the movement. The same child at six months knew when an object was within reach. If a biscuit or other object was held out of his reach, he made no movement, but as soon as it was brought within his reach he instantly put out his hand to take it. On the other hand, Prof. Preyer says his boy tried to seize the lamp in the ceiling of a railway compartment when fifty-eight weeks old. (" Die Seele des Kindes," p. 38.) 122 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. him, no doubt, but the meaning of these changes only be- comes fully seized when he begins to walk, and to find out the amount of locomotive exertion answering to the different appearances of things. It is some years, how- ever, before he begins to note the signs of distance in the case of remote objects. The same order shows itself with respect to the development of the perception of solidity. Thus a child learns in time to distinguish between the flat shadows of things on the walls and the pictures in his books, and real solid objects. But it is long before he learns that the distant hills and clouds are bulging, sub- stantial forms.* After many conjunctions of impressions children begin to find out the nature of objects as wholes, and the visible aspects which are their most important marks. That is to say, they begin to discriminate objects one from an- other by means of sight alone, and to recognize them as they reappear to the eye. Development follows here as elsewhere the line of interest. It is the objects of great- est interest, such as the bottle by which the infant is fed, that are first apprehended as real objects. After some months of tactile investigation the interpretation of visual impressions becomes more easy and automatic. Sight now grows self-sufficient. What may be roughly marked off as the touching age gives place to the seeing age. Hence- forth the growth of perception is to a large extent an im- provement of visual capability. At first this power of discerning the forms of objects with the eye is very limited. A child will note one or two prominent and striking features of a thing but overlook the others. Thus, in looking at real animals or at his toy * M. Perez (" First Three Years of Childhood," pp. 226, 227) re- marks that a child of six months will take a flat disk with gradations of light and shade for a gloBe. He also remarks that children of fif- teen months and more are liable to make absurd blunders as to the distance of remote objects, hills, the horizon, etc. DEVELOPMENT OF PERCEPTUAL POWER. 123 or picture imitations, he will distinguish a quadruped from a bird, but not one quadruped from another. Similarly, he will distinguish a very big dog from a small one, but not one dog from another of similar size. The progress of perception grows with increase of visual discrimination ; that is to say, of the capability of distinguishing one color, one direction of a line, and so on, from another. It presupposes, further, the growth of the power of attention which is the main ingredient in ob- servation. As experience advances, children find it easier to note the characteristic aspects of things and to recog- nize them ; and they take more pleasure in detecting their differences and similarities. In this way their observations tend gradually to improve in distinctness and accuracy. Not only so, an increased power of attention enables them to seize and embrace in a single view a number of details. In this way their first vague, " sketchy " percepts get filled out. Thus, a particular flower or animal is seen more completely in all its details of color and its relations of form. At the same time they acquire the power of appre- hending larger and more complex objects, such as whole buildings, ships, etc. ; and, further, assemblages of many objects, as the furniture in a room, or the plants in a gar- den, in their proper relative positions. The observing powers may develop in different direc- tions, according to special capabilities and special circum- stances. The possession of a particular mode of discrimi- native sensibility in a high form, and a strong correlated interest in the particular class of impressions, will lead to a special consideration of things on that side. Thus the child with a fine eye for color will be specially observant of the color-side of objects. Again, the faculty of obser- vation may grow in rapidity of action, and in grasp of a multitude of objects, according to the individual's special powers of attention. Once more, the development of a particular interest in a class of objects, as animals, flowers, 124 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THIXGS. faces, etc., will determine a special acuteness of observa- tion in respect of these. Thus a boy with a marked love of horses becomes specially observant of their forms, ac- tions, etc. So a boy with a strong leaning to mimicry and a keen, humorous interest in the expression of people's faces, etc., will be particularly observant in this direction. It may be added that particular enlargements of tactile and other experience will serve to give a particular depth and richness of suggestion to the individual's percepts. Thus a person who acquires special knowledge of the tan- gible properties of natural substances, woven fabrics, etc., will see more in these objects than another person. Training of the Observing Powers. This branch of intellectual training goes on in close connection with, and is at the same time the completion of, that training of the senses on their discriminative side which was con- sidered in the last chapter. The first years of life are marked out by nature as the age for exercising the observ- ing powers. The objects that surround the child are new and excite a vivid interest. He spontaneously spends much of his time in manipulating and scrutinizing things. The overflowing muscular activity of a healthy child is highly favorable to experimental investigation. The beginnings of the education of the observing powers belong to the nursery, and consist in supplying the child with ample room to move about and a good stock of objects of interest for manual and visual inspection. Nothing is more fatal to this early development than checking muscular activity, forbidding children to touch and examine things.* By a free exertion of activity the child will learn for himself to organize his tactile and visual experiences so as to become proficient in interpret- * As Miss Edgeworth observes, the best toys for the infant are things that can be grasped without danger, as ivory sticks, balls, etc., by help of which differences of size and form may be learned. (" Prac- tical Education," i, pp. 7, 8.) EXERCISE IN OBSERVING FORM. 125 ing the visual signs of distance, solidity, etc. The addi- tion of flat representations of solid objects in picture- books is a valuable supplement to this first domestic en- vironment, since they help to fix the child's attention in a new way on the purely visible side of things, the differ- ence and at the same time the similarity between the real solid thing and its pictorial representation. A more act- ive direction of the observing faculty is required when the child grows and is capable of better fixing his attention on objects. This is the moment for calling his attention to less obtrusive objects at a distance, and so carrying forward the process of self-education to a more advanced point. 12 Exercise in observing Form. The transition from the nursery to the school should be marked by a more systematic training of the observing powers. This properly begins with exercising the child in the more ac- curate perception of form. The Kindergarten system has this as its chief aim. The principles which govern this early department of training are as follows : (i) The per- ception of form is grounded on the child's active experi- ences and the use of the hand. It is by the spontaneous outgoings of his muscular energy in examining objects and constructing them that all perception of real form arises. (2) The development of the perception of form should proceed from a conjoint tactile and visual, to an inde- pendent visual perception. (3) The observation of form should be exercised conformably to the general laws of mental development, viz., passing from the rude and in- definite to the exact and definite, from the concrete to the abstract, and from the simple to the complex. The Kin- dergarten gifts and occupations clearly satisfy these con- ditions in general. Froebel was psychologically right in utilizing the child's spontaneous activity, in setting out with tangible objects, as the ball, etc., and in attaching so much importance to the exercise of the child's construct- 126 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. ive activity in the reproduction of form by the occupa- tions of modeling, stick-laying, paper-folding, etc. All such exercises involve a recreation of form by actions of the hand similar to those by which the infant spontaneous- ly investigates the form of things. Hence they are to be regarded as the natural completion of the earlier training of the nursery. Such exercises do not, however, constitute all that is meant by training the child in the perception of form. From an early period he is interesting himself in the forms of natural objects, as animals, trees, flowers, etc., as well as buildings, articles of furniture, etc. And he should be exercised in a more close and exact observation of these forms. The child naturally observes at first only the more salient features of an object, such as the tallness of the poplar, the long neck of the swan, which may after- ward serve as a rough mark for identifying the object. How little he really notes may be seen by his first rude attempts at drawing the human figure, the horse, etc. The development of the perception of form proceeds analyti- cally, the rough outline being first apprehended, and then the several details. The educator should follow this order, and practice the observer in attention to the minuter de- tails of form. In this way the child will grow more dis- criminative in his perceptions of form and learn more about the minute parts of common and familiar objects. Here, again, the hand should be called in, in order to reproduce what is seen. The child's spontaneous impulse to imitate nature by drawing is one of the most valuable ones to the educator. Compared with modeling, drawing is to a certain extent abstract, since it separates the visible form from the tangible. Accordingly it is best taken up after modeling, building, etc. At the same time the child commonly manifests the impulse to draw at an early age, and the satisfaction of the impulse provides an excellent means of gaining a closer acquaintance with visible form. CONCRETE OBJECTS. 127 Not only so, by employing the hand in the production or creation of form by definite manual movements, drawing supplies a valuable additional means of training the eye and the hand in unison, and so of perfecting the connec- tions between touch and sight. A child who has become skillful in drawing has not only acquired a useful manual art, but has helped to develop his power of seeing, i. e., of deciphering the symbols that present themselves to his eye. In these exercises the teacher should be satisfied at first with rough and approximate imitations of natural forms, and aim at making these more close and accurate by practice.* A more advanced stage in the visual perception of form is reached when the learner takes up the abstract consid- eration of form by a study of the elements of geometry. A knowledge of lines, curves, angles, etc., should distinct- ly follow a certain amount of exercise in the observa- tion and reproduction of concrete forms. To distinguish a straight line or a right angle is a dry and uninter- esting exercise compared with noting the form of some real object, and involves a certain development of the power of abstraction. Such exercises should be com- menced by references to concrete forms, as the window- frame, the edge of the house, its gable, etc. In this way the child will gain an interest in the subject, and at the same time further develop his perceptions of concrete forms by a clearer recognition of their constituent parts. The Object-Lesson. After the exercise of the child in the perception of form comes the training of the senses as a whole in the knowledge of objects and their constituent qualities. The systematic development of this side of the training of the senses gives us the object- lesson. By this is meant the presentment to the pupil's senses of some natural substance, as coal, chalk, or lead ; * On the best way to exercise the child in drawing, see Mr. Spen- cer's "Education," chap, ii, p. 79, and following. 128 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. some organic structure, as a plant or animal ; or, finally, some product of human industry, as glass or a piece of furniture ; and such a detailed and orderly unfolding of its several qualities, its capabilities of being acted on by, and of acting on, other things, its relations of depend- ence on surroundings, etc., as will result in the fullest and clearest knowledge of the object as a whole and its conditions. It is evident, from this general description, that the object-lesson makes a special appeal to the sev- eral senses, and, while thus exercising the senses separate- ly, helps to train the learner in the connecting and organ- izing of a number of impressions. Thus, in an object- lesson on one of the metals there is an appeal made to the sense of touch (sensations of hardness, smoothness, etc.), and in one on salt, an appeal to the sense of taste. The object-lesson thus falls into two parts : (i) the detailed exposition and naming of the various qualities, and (2) the summing up of the results in a description of the whole thing. The object-lesson is a training in close ob- servation of objects ; and, since the first stage of science is observation, including experiment, this form of instruc- tion constitutes a fit introduction to the study of physical science. Its value depends, first of all, on the extent to which the observing powers of the class have been made use of. The teacher must not tell the pupils what the object is, but stimulate them to obser/e for themselves. Again, it depends on the clearness and precision with which the several properties have been unfolded, so that a complete and accurate idea of the whole may be attained. Once more, it involves the proper use of juxtaposition, so as to exercise the observer's power of comparison and dis- crimination. And, lastly, it implies that the result of each separate observation has been carefully recorded by a suitable name. The object-lesson, properly carried out, is one of the best methods of developing in children a habit of observation and a taste for scientific experiment. PURPOSE OF THE OBTECT-LESSON. 129 The object-lesson aims at nothing beyond the training of the observing powers themselves. Its purpose is real- ized when the object has been accurately inspected and its properties learned. Hence it must be marked off from all appeals to the senses which subserve the better imagi- nation and understanding of a subject dealt with mainly by verbal instruction, such as the use of models and maps in teaching geography ; coins, pictures, etc., in teaching history ; and such an apparatus as Mr. Sonnenschein's in teaching the elements of number. All these exercises call in the aid of the senses according to the general prin- ciple of modern education, that knowledge begins with the apprehension of concrete things by the senses of the child. While the calling in of the pupil's observing powers is thus a characteristic of the right method in all branches of teaching, there are some subjects which exercise the faculty of observation in a more special manner. Thus, the study of geometry and of languages help, each in its own special and restricted way, to exercise the visual ob- servation of form. But the study which most completely and most rigorously exercises the faculty of observation is natural science. A serious pursuit of chemistry, mineral- ogy, botany, or some branch of zoology, as entomology, trains the whole visual capacity, and helps to fix a habit of observing natural objects, which is one of the most val- uable rewards that any system of education can bestow. It is not to be forgotten, however, that the best train- ing of the observing powers lies outside the range of school exercises. A habit of close observation of nature is best acquired in friendly association with, and under the guidance of, an observant parent or tutor, in hours of leisure. A daily walk with a good observer will do more to develop the faculty than the most elaborate school exercises. The training of the observing powers is indeed that part of intellectual education that most requires the aid of other educators than the schoolmaster. And one 130 THE SENSES: OBSERVATION OF THINGS. evil resulting from our modern aggregation into big towns, and our growing school demands on the time and ener- gies of children, is that so little opportunity and energy remain for those spontaneous beginnings in the observa- tion of nature, the forms of hill and dale, the movements of stream, waves, etc., the forms and movements of plants and animals, which are the best exercise of the observing faculty ; and for those simpler and more attractive kinds of scientific observation, e. g., collecting birds' eggs, fossils, etc., which grow naturally out of children's play-activity. APPENDIX. The development of visual perception is clearly described by M. Taine, " On Intelligence," part ii, book ii, chap, ii, sect, iv-vi. The child's first perceptions of direction, distance, etc., are recorded by Prof. Preyer, op, cit. On the training of the observing powers, the reader will do well to consult Mr. Spencer's " Essay on Education," chap, ii, and Miss You- mans's little work on the "Culture of the Observing Powers of Children." The function of the nursery in drawing out the observing faculty is well illustrated by Miss Edgeworth, "Practical Education," chap, i, " Toys." The difficult subject of the object-lesson is dealt with in a suggestive way by Dr. Bain, " Education as a Science," chap, viii, p. 247, etc. ; and by Mr. Calkins, " New Primary Objec -Lessons " (Har- per & Brothers), p. 359, etc. The defects of natural observation and the educational improvement of the faculty are ably treated by Mr. Thring, "Theory and Practice of Teaching," part i; see especially chap. vii. The German reader may with advantage read Waitz, "Allgemeine Pocdagogik," part ii, section I, "Die Bildung der An- schauung." CHAPTER IX. MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. Retention and Reproduction. The senses are the source of all our knowledge about external things. But, if we were only capable of observing objects, we could gain no lasting knowledge about anything. Knowledge of things is not a momentary attainment, vanishing again with the departure of the things ; it is our enduring pos- session, which we can make use of at any time, whether the objects are before us or not. This persistence of the impressions which objects make on our minds through the senses is due to that im- portant property of the mind called retentiveness. This property, as was pointed out in an earlier chapter, is con- nected with the physiological fact that the brain centers are permanently modified by their various modes of activi- ty. Thus the activity of the visual centers involved in seeing and observing a flower or a person's face leaves as its after-result a lasting trace of this activity, by the help of which we can afterward recall the impression of the object and think about it. This independent activity of the brain is seen in a striking form in the case of one who, like Milton, has lost his sight, yet can distinctly recall the objects he has seen in the past. Retentiveness shows itself in the ability to reproduce the impression when occasion presents itself. Thus the mind retains the impression of a person's face, of a tune, 132 MENTAL REP ROD UCTION.MEMOR Y. and so forth, when it can afterward revive or recall this. We know nothing about retention except through the fact of mental revival or mental reproduction. It is true that the mind can not always recall what it has retained. A child is sometimes tenacious in retention, and at the same time slow and awkward in recalling what he knows. On the other hand, it is evident that what we can not repro- duce at any time is not retained. The teacher necessarily judges what a child has retained of a lesson by the amount he can reproduce under favorable conditions. Reproduction and Representation. Whenever the mind thus recalls what is no longer present to the senses the process is called representation, i. e., the act in which the mind represents to itself what was before pre- sented. Thus, in recalling our absent home or friend, we see with the mind's eye the object we actually saw when it was present. This process is also called reproductive imagination, because in thus mentally realizing an object in its absence, we are really exercising a form of imagina- tion. The result of the operation is known as a mental image. The image is the copy of the percept. We pict- ure the house as it actually presented itself to our eyes, with its proper shape, color, etc. Only, as a rule, our images are much less complete and distinct than our per- cepts. In recalling a friend's face, we do not ordinarily represent all its features as they would actually appear when the person was before our eyes. As was pointed out in the last chapter, there is an element of representation in perception. In seeing a globe, for example, we are reproducing tactile experiences. Further, in recognizing a familiar object, as our house or a friend's figure, we are plainly recalling past percepts of this object. This, however, is a lower form of reproduc- tion than that which takes place when the object is no longer present ; for in this case there is no presentative element, and the representation is more complete and CONDITIONS OF REPRODUCTION. 133 independent. It is this independent activity of the mind that we specially think of when we talk of representing or picturing objects. While we naturally think first of mental pictures, i. e., copies of visual percepts, when we talk of images, we must be careful to include under the term copies of percepts and sense-impressions generally. Thus we must say that the mind imagines or forms images of sounds, as words, etc., as well as tactile percepts, odors, and tastes. The most important images are copies of visual and auditory percepts. This mental region of pure representation roughly answers to what we commonly call memory. To remem- ber a thing is to retain an impression of it, so as to be able to represent or picture it. Everything that we learn has thus to be taken possession of by the mind. The knowledge that the child gains, whether by the direct examination of objects or by way of words, is acquired for the express purpose of retaining and recalling. Even the higher and more abstract kind of knowledge has to be stored up in the mind for subsequent reproduction. Hence the laws of reproduction are of special interest to the educator. He has to do with the process of learning, or acquisition, of which reproduction is the chief ingredi- ent. To understand how to control and direct these pro- cesses, with a view to the maximum result in the shape of clear and abiding knowledge, is one of the chief objects of a study of mental science. Conditions of Reproduction. The most general condition of reproduction is a certain degree of recency of the original impression. We readily recall any object or incident of the immediate past, such as the appearance and voice of the person we have just been speaking with. Older impressions are, as a rule, less easily recalled. The longer the interval between the presentation and the representation, the less distinct and prompt will be the 134 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. latter. The lines the child can repeat a few minutes after going over them will tend to disappear after an hour or a day or two. It is thus apparent that the after-impressions left by what we see, hear, etc., tend to grow less and less vivid and distinct as time elapses. The scenes, person- ages, and experiences of our remote past are for the greater part lost to us. Coming now to more special conditions, we may say that the capability of representing an object or event some time after it has been perceived depends on two chief circumstances. In the first place, the impression must be stamped on the mind with a certain degree of force. This circumstance may be called the depth of the impres- sion. In the second place, there is needed in ordinary cases the presence of something to remind us of the ob- ject or to suggest it to our minds. This second circum- stance is known as the force of association. (A) Depth of Impression : Attention and Re- tention. In the first place then (assuming that there has been only one impression) we may say that a distinct image presupposes a certain degree of perfection in the impression. A bright object distinctly seen is recalled better than a dull one obscurely seen. The chalk diagram on the blackboard stands a better chance of being recalled than a less forcible impression. For this reason actual impressions are in general much better recalled than prod- ucts of imagination. A child will generally recall the appearance of a place he has actually seen better than one that he has heard described. The habit of repeating words audibly when we want to remember them is based on this principle. Again, the permanence of an impression is determined not merely by its external character, but by the attitude of the mind in relation to it. If our minds are preoccu- pied, even a powerful impression may fail to produce a lasting effect. Hence we have to add that the permanence REPETITION AND RETENTION, 135 of an impression depends on the degree of interest excited by the object, and the corresponding vigor of the act of attention. All strong feeling gives a special persistence to impressions, by arousing an exceptional degree of in- terest. Where a boy is deeply affected by pleasurable feeling, as in listening to an attractive story or in watch- ing a cricket match, he remembers distinctly. Such in- tensity of feeling, by securing a strong interest and a close attention, insures a vivid impression and a clear discrim- ination of the object, both in its several parts or details, and as a whole. And the fineness of the discriminative process is one of the most important determining condi- tions of retention. The interest determining the force of attention may, as we have seen, arise directly out of some aspect of the object, as its novelty, beauty, its suggestiveness, and so on. A pleasurable feeling, flowing from the perception itself, is the best guarantee of close attention and fine dis- crimination. The events of our past life which are per- manently retained commonly show an accompaniment of strong feeling (wonder, delight, awe, and so forth). 13 Where this powerful intrinsic interest is wanting, a vigor- pus effort of voluntary attention may do something to bring about a permanent retention. Finally, it is to be observed that our minds are not al- ways in an equally favorable state for the retention of impressions. Much will depend on the degree of mental vigor and brain vigor at the time. A fresh condition of the brain, such as is realized after a period of repose, is necessary to a deep and lasting after-trace of retention of impressions.* Repetition and Retention. We have just assumed that the object or event recalled has been perceived but * Prof. Bain considers that acquisition or storing up new impres- sions is of all forms of intellectual activity that which involves the largest consumption of brain-force. 136 MENTAL REPRODUCTION, MEMORY. once only. But a single occurrence of an impression rarely suffices for a lasting retention. Since every impres- sion tends to lose its effect after a time, our images re- quire to be re-invigorated by new presentations of the ob- ject. Most of the events of life are forgotten just because they never recur in precisely the same form. The bulk of our mental imagery, the natural scenery, buildings, per- sons, etc., that form our surroundings, answer to objects which we see again and again. Here, then, we have a sec- ond circumstance determining the depth of an impression. The greater the number of the repetitions, the more endur- ing will be the image. Where the repetition of the actual impression is impossible, the repeated reproduction of it serves less effectually to bring about the same result. By repeating to ourselves internally a person's name again and again soon after hearing it, we help to fix it in the memory. The repetitions must not only be numerous but fre- quent. In learning a new language we may look up in a dictionary an uncommon or rarely occurring word a good number of times and yet never gain a firm hold on it, just because the repetitions are not frequent enough ; whereas, if the word is a common one, and occurs frequently, the same number of references to the dictionary will more than suffice. The reason of this is that the after-impres- sions tend to fade away after a little time, so that each ef- fect must be followed up by another soon enough. The process may be likened to that of damming a stream with stones. If we throw in the stones with sufficient rapidity, we may succeed in fixing a barrier. But if we throw in one to-day, and another to-morrow, the effect of the first throw will be obliterated by the force of the stream before the reinforcing effect of the second is added. These two conditions, interest and repetition, take the place of one another to a certain extent. The more in- teresting an impression, the fewer the repetitions necessary ASSOCIATION OF IMPRESSION. 137 to fix it in the mind. This is illustrated in the words of Juliet : " My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound." On the other hand, the more frequently an impression recurs, the less interesting does it need to be in order to find a lodgment in our minds. As has been humorously ob- served, even matters of such little interest to us as the fact that Mr. G. sells Eureka shirts stamp themselves on our memory after they have been repeatedly forced on our at- tention by a sufficient profusion of advertisements. Nev- ertheless, in ordinary cases both conditions must be pres- ent in considerable force. This certainly applies to the larger part of school acquisitions. Interest is rarely so keen here as to be able to dispense with a number of repetitions. On the other hand, no number of repetitions of a lesson will avail if there is no interest taken in the subject, and the thoughts wander. (B) Association of Impression. When an impres- sion has been well fixed in the mind there remains a pre- disposition or tendency to reproduce it under the form of an image. The degree of facility with which we recall any object always depends in part on the strength of this predisposition. Nevertheless, this predisposition will not in ordinary cases suffice in itself to effect a restoration after a certain time has elapsed. There is needed further something present to the mind to suggest the image, or remind us of the event or object. Thus the sight of a place reminds us of an event which happened there, the hearing of a person's name of that person, and so on. Such a reminder constitutes the "exciting" as distin- guished from the " predisposing " cause. The reason why so many incidents of our past life, including our deeply interesting dream-experiences, appear to be wholly for- gotten is that there is nothing in our present surround- ings that distinctly reminds us of them. 1 38 MENTAL REPRODUCTION MEMORY. Whenever we are thus reminded of an impression by some other impression (or image), it is because this is somehow connected in our minds or " associated " with the first. Thus the event is associated with the place which recalls it, and the person with his name. Hence we speak of association as the second great condition of reproduction. Different Kinds of Association. One impression may be associated with another in different ways. Let A stand for the antecedent or reminder, B for the conse- quent or the representation called up. Then A and B may correspond to two objects locally connected, as two adjacent buildings, or to two events following one another in time, as sunset and the coming on of darkness. Or, again, they may stand for two like objects, as a portrait and the original. These various kinds of connection are reduced by the psychologist to the smallest number of principles or laws of association. They are commonly brought under three heads, viz., contiguity, similarity, and contrast. (I) Association by Contiguity. Of these kinds of association the most important is that known as contigu- ous association, or association by contiguity. By this is meant the association of two or more impressions through, or on the ground of, their connection in time. Its law niay be stated briefly as follows : Presentations, impres- sions, or experiences which occur together, or in im- mediate succession, will afterward tend to revive or sug- gest one another. This principle is illustrated throughout the whole pro- cess of learning, both from the actual inspection of things, and by way of others' instruction. Whenever the mind connects two or more impressions, facts, objects, or ex- periences, because they have occurred or presented them- selves together, this is an illustration of the law of con- tiguity. Thus, in coupling an action with the person who ASSOCIATION BY CONTIGUITY. 139 performs it, or a thing with its name, or an event with the place where it occurred, we are illustrating this principle. The more important varieties of contiguous associa- tion may be brought under the following heads : (i) First of all, we have impressions, actions, or events, which occur together or in immediate succession, as the sight of a bell swinging and its sound, the shining of the sun and the feeling of warmth, one bit of a tune and the following bit. Among the successions of actions and events the most important are those of cause and effect. The child conies to know that the sun warms, that rain wets, that hard bodies hurt, that his own actions produce certain results, e. g., the removal of obstacles by noting how one thing follows another, i. e., by connecting things according to the law of contiguity. (2) Next may be mentioned asso- ciations with objects including persons. Thus the child connects the various properties and powers it discovers in things, such as the divisibility and the combustibility of wood with this substance, the voice, gestures, etc., of per- sons with these ; also the uses to which things may be put and the gratifications to be obtained from them with the objects themselves, such as the ball's capability of being rolled, the capability of the toy-bricks to support others, and so forth. (3) Our next group consists of local asso- ciations, which play a conspicuous part in memory. These include (a) connections of objects with places, as the cowslips with the fields, books, toys, etc., with the places where they are put away and kept ; (l>) events and places, as the meal, the lesson, the punishment, and so on, with the room in which they take place ; and (c) places with other and contiguous places, and features of the environ- ment with others which are contiguous in place, as the sea and the sandy shore, the river and the bridge across it, one house or street and the adjacent one. All learning by instruction, too, illustrates the same law. In learning about distant places and about the past 140 MENTAL REPROD UCTION.MEMOR Y. history of his country, the child has to build up associa- tion of time and place like those he builds up in the course of his daily observations of the things around him. More than this, learning proceeds very largely by aid of verbal associations, and more particularly associations of things with words, and one word with another. In learn- ing the names of objects, places, persons, etc., the child is linking together impressions that occur at the same time. Thus he learns the name of a person by hearing the sound while the person is present. On the other hand, commit- ting anything to memory by stringing on a series of words illustrates the association of consecutive impressions. One word of a verse has to be connected with the following, and so on. Strength of Associative Cohesion. The law of contiguity speaks of a tendency to call up or suggest. This means that the suggestion does not always take place, that the antecedent is not always followed by the consequent, and that, in some cases, the sequence is much more prompt than in others. We may easily see by observation that this is so. Thus we sometimes hear names of persons and places without representing the corresponding objects ; in other words, the names do not call up the appropriate images. In other cases, again, the revival is certain and rapid, as when a familiar word in the native tongue, as " home," '' father," calls up the idea which it symbolizes. Indeed, in a certain class of cases, the revival is so rapid that the mind is hardly aware of a transition from ante- cedent to consequent. Such are the suggestions of a vocal action by the connected sound (articulate or musi- cal), of a manual movement by a visible sign, and of a feeling, say of anger, by the visible expression. We ex- press this fact by saying that there are different degrees of cohesion among our impressions, and consequently differ- ent degrees of suggestive force. On what Suggestive Force depends. The sug- ON WHAT SUGGESTIVE FORCE DEPENDS. 141 gestive force in any case depends on the same two cir- cumstances as we found governing the persistence of im- pressions regarded as single or apart. These are first the amount of attention given to the impressions when they present themselves together ; and secondly, the frequency of their concurrence. Two impressions may become closely associated with one another by a special act of connective attention at the time. Thus, when a child is greatly interested in a stranger, and pays particular attention to his name at the same time, he in a manner makes one object of them, so that the recurrence of the one suggests the other. In learning a lesson in geography the child has to firmly conjoin things, e. g., a town with the country in which it lies, the river on which it stands, etc. The greater the force of attention directed to two objects, and the more closely the mind grasps them by one act of attention, the stronger will be the resulting association. This presup- poses a development of the power of attention in grasping a plurality of objects in their relations of time, place, etc. It is to be added that this work of conjoining impressions is only possible when the mind is free from preoccupation, and the brain is in a fresh and active condition. It is, however, but rarely that a single conjunction of two experiences effects a permanent association. Repeti- tion of the original experiences is necessary in the great majority of instances. All our enduring knowledge about the things around us, the varying phases of earth and sky, the locality we live in, the persons we are familiar with, involves repetitions of impressions together or in company with one another. The child's association of sunlight and warmth, of a street with the interesting shops in it, of a person with his acts of kindness, is the result of many im- pressions. The more frequent the conjunction of the im- pressions, the stronger the resulting bond of association between them. The closest associations, such as those 142 MENTAL REPROD UCTION.MEMOR Y. between vocal actions and the resulting sounds, words, and the things named, the movements of expression, and the feelings expressed, are the result of innumerable con- junctions extending throughout life. 14 Trains of Images. All that has been said respect- ing pairs of impressions and the resulting representations applies also to a whole series. A good part of our knowl- edge consists of trains of images answering to recurring and oft-repeated series of sense-impressions. Thus our knowledge of a street, and of a whole town, consists of a recoverable train of visual images. In like manner, we are able to recall a series of visible movements or actions, as those of a dance, and a succession of sounds, as those of a tune. Our knowledge of every kind is closely con- nected with language, and is retained to a considerable extent by help of series of words. Again, our practical knowledge, our knowledge how to perform actions of various kinds, such as dressing and undressing, speaking and writing, is made up of chains of representations. All such chains illustrate the effects of attention and of repetition. The more closely a child has attended to the order of a series of notes or words, events in a story, and so forth, the better will the several links of the chain be connected. And the more frequently the series has been gone over, the easier will it be for the mind after- ward to reproduce it. In cases where the repetitions have been very numerous, the mind is able to retrace the succession with perfect ease and in a semi-conscious way, as in going over the alphabet, the numerals, etc. At first these trains of representations are not self- supporting. They are bound up with, and dependent on, actual presentations. Thus a child learning a tune is able at first only to recall the successive notes step by step as he hears the tune sung (or plays it himself). That is to say, revival is still dependent on the stronger suggestive force of actual impressions. Gradually the series of VERBAL ASSOCIATIONS. 143 images becomes independent of the exciting force of im- pressions. Thus, when the tune is perfectly learned, the child's mind can run over the whole without any aid from the ear. Verbal Associations. Among the most important of our associations are those of words. Language, being the medium by which we convey our impressions and ex- press our thoughts one to another, plays a conspicuous part as a suggestive force. We habitually recall our im- pressions by the aid of verbal signs. This is especially true of all the knowledge we gain from others, or learn by instruction and reading. Such knowledge, more par- ticularly the more abstract kinds, is embodied in, and re- produced by, words. Every word is in itself the result of joining together a number of elements. The first step in learning to speak is the linking on of a definite variety of vocal action to its proper sound. Later on, when the child learns to read, he combines with this associated couple the visual symbol, viz., the printed word. Finally, in learning to write, the child builds up new associations be- tween definite groups of finger-movements and the corre- sponding visual symbols. Again, in learning language, there are not only these associations between the different constituents of the word, but also the connecting of the word as a whole with its proper idea. Learning to speak, to read, and to write, plainly includes this further connection between the word symbol and its meaning. These verbal groups are capable of becoming associ- ated in definite series, and it is by the aid of such series that our knowledge of things in their order of time and place is retained. This applies to what the child himself observes, for he loves to describe what he has seen to others, and in so doing he makes his knowledge more lasting by embodying it in series of words. And it ap- 144 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. plies still more to all the knowledge gained by others' in- struction. Here the facts are presented to him by the medium of language, which thus naturally comes to be taken up into the whole mental impression retained.* (II) Association by Similarity. Although the principle of contiguity covers most of the facts of mem- ory, it is usual to lay down other principles of association as well. Of these the most important is association through similarity. This principle asserts that an impres- sion (or image) will tend to call up an image of any ob- ject previously perceived which resembles it. Thus the face or voice of a stranger suggests by resemblance an- other and familiar one ; a word in a foreign language, a word in our own, and so forth. The more conspicuous the point of resemblance between two things, and the greater the amount of their resemblance compared with that of their difference, the greater the suggestive force. This kind of association is plainly marked off from the first. Contiguity associates objects, events, words, etc., which present themselves together, or at (or about) the same time in our experience. Similarity, on the other hand, brings together impressions, objects, and events widely remote in time. Thus a face or a bit of landscape seen to-day may remind us of another seen years ago in a distant part of the globe. The acquisition of knowledge is greatly aided by this "attraction of similars," as it has been called. If every- thing we had to learn, whether by actual observation or by books, were absolutely new, the burden would be in- supportable. When a boy or a girl studies a new language, for example, the similarities very greatly shorten the labor. Thus, when the German word Vogel calls up the familiar * It is not meant that all the elements of the word are equally dis- tinct in all cases. When a child learns something by oral instruction he will recall the sounds ; when he learns from a book, he will rather recall the visible words. ASSOCIATION BY CONTRAST. 145 name fowl, its meaning is at once fixed. The new acquisition is permanently attached to the pre-existing stock of acqui- sitions through a link of similarity. Or, as we commonly express it, the new is assimilated to the old. It may be added that every discovery of similarity in the midst of diversity is attended by a feeling of pleasurable excite- ment or elation ; and this acts as a powerful force in bind- ing together the similar things in the memory. 15 (Ill) Association by Contrast. In addition to the principle of similarity, another principle of association known as contrast is frequently laid down. By this is meant that one impression, object, or event, tends to call up the image of its opposite or contrast. Thus it is said that black suggests white ; poverty, wealth ; a flat country, a mountainous, and so forth. The part played by contrast in memory is due to the fact that all knowledge begins with marking off one thing or one property of a thing from other and different ones. The first step in acquiring knowledge is to discriminate. The child first discriminates impressions and objects of the same kind which are widely unlike, or opposed to one another, as light and dark, sweet and sour, a big and a little dog, etc. This would tend to build up in the child's mind a number of associations between contrasting things. It may be added that all strong dissimilarity is in itself impressive, and tends to stamp itself on the mind. Children are struck by contrast as they are by likeness. Thus the sight of a tall and a short person walking together, or of something very unusual, as a dwarf, is certain to arrest their attention, and so to further the retention of a vivid after-impression of the objects in association. In learning, this principle may be made use of. Thus, a strongly marked contrast in two contiguous countries, or two consecutive reigns in English history, helps to fix the association in the learner's mind.* * Mr. Fitch gives a good example of the effect of contrast or unex- 10 146 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. Complex Associations. So far it has been assumed that association is simple, that each element of knowledge only enters into a single associative combination. But this does not correspond with the facts. Association is highly complex. One element may enter as a member into a number of distinct combinations. Thus the image of the Colosseum at Rome is associated with that of events in my personal history, of pleasant days passed at Rome, of historical events, such as the gladiatorial combats of the Empire, its conquests and luxury, etc. The threads of association are not distinct and parallel, like the strings of a harpj but intersect one another, forming an intricate network. Co-operation of Associations. One result of this complexity is that different threads of association con- verge in the same point ; so that the recalling of a fact may take place by the co-operation of a number of sug- gesting forces. The general effect of such co-operation may be stated in the principle that the more numerous the associations between a particular impression and other mental elements, and the more firmly it is associated with each, the more likely is it to be recalled. In recalling a series of words, for example, as those of a poem, the child's mind may travel along any one of a number of parallel paths. Thus it may move now along that of the sounds, now along that of the visual signs, and now along the series of images or ideas corresponding to the objects described and events narrated. And thus, if the members of one series are not firmly knit together, his mind can make use of the other series. Thus, in forgetting how the sounds follow one another, it may take advantage of the visual series, the images of the printed words. To take another and somewhat different kind of ex- pectedness in imprinting a fact on the memory, viz., learning for the first time that " Rule Britannia " was written by Thompson, the singer of quiet pastorals. " Lectures on Teaching," p. 130. OSS TR UC 77 VE ASSOCIA TIONS. 147 ample : the date of an historical event is associated with that of simultaneous events at home or abroad, and of preceding and succeeding events. And so a child may recall it by way of any one of these channels. These com- binations include associations by similarity as well as by contiguity. A person's name may be recalled not only by recalling his appearance, the book of which he is the author, and so on, but also by way of some other name which it resembles. Thus the succession of Saxon kings is aided by the similarity of their names. In like manner the learning of the verses of a poem is aided by the simi- larities of meter and rhyme. Obstructive Associations. While looked at from one point of view the fact of the complexity of association is an aid to memory, looked at from another it is an ob- struction. If an impression or fact is associated with a number of other impressions, disconnected one with an- other, then the mind in setting out from this image is liable to be borne along any one of a divergent series of paths. Accordingly it is less likely to strike upon any one particular path that is required at the moment. It is like being in a town and having to find one's way out in a par- ticular direction, instead of being outside and having to find the way into it. The multiplicity of paths which was an advantage in the one case is a hindrance in the other. The errors of confusion into which children are apt to fall when, in repeating a poem, singing a tune from memory, and so forth, they go off on a wrong mental tack, are due to the fact that certain members of the series they are recalling, e. g., phrases of the poem or of the tune, enter into other associations, and so lead their minds astray. This effect of association in leading the mind away from what is wanted has been marked off as obstructive associ- ation. Active Reproduction : Recollection. The repro- duction of impressions is very often a perfectly passive or 148 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. mechanical operation, in which there is no control of the process by the will. In many of our idle moments, as in taking a walk in the country, the mind abandons itself to the forces of suggestion. In contrast to this passive reproduction, there is an active reproduction in which the will co-operates. Here the succession of images is still ultimately determined by the laws of association. The will can not secure a revival of any impression except by the aid of these laws. A child, for example, can not recall yesterday's lesson simply by resolving, if the lesson has not previously been learned and connected with other knowledge. But he can by an effort of will guide and control the operations of his mind at the time, and so aid in the reproduction of what he has learned. This active side of reproduction is best marked off as recollection. The will exerts itself here in an act of mental concen- tration, which serves to give greater distinctness and per- sistence to what is before the mind. Thus, if a child is asked the date of a certain battle, he may by an act of concentrated attention give clearness and fullness to the image of the battle. And by so doing h^ helps to give effect to the associative force connecting the event and the date. Not only so, the will accomplishes an important work in resisting obstructive associations, turning away from all misleading suggestions, and following out the clews. The revival of an impression, as of a name, or an event, is very often a gradual process. We are often dimly aware beforehand of the character of the impression or fact we desire to call up clearly. And by a resolute effort we may keep pursuing the right path till we reach it. It is not only in this form of a severe effort to recall what is temporarily forgotten that the co-operation of the will is important. It enters, in a less marked manner, into all our ordinary processes of mental reproduction. Even in repeating a well-learned poem the child's will, by an RECOLLECTION. 149 effort so slight that he may be scarcely aware of it ? steadies the whole operation, securing the due succession of the several members of the train, and the avoidance of mis- leading suggestions. And the relaxation of this attitude of attention at any moment would be fatal to the repro- duction. This ability to control the reproductive processes reaches its highest development in a habit of going over the contents of memory, and following out, now one path, now another, according to the purpose in hand. It is this ability which is illustrated in the readiness of a child to find facts associated with a particular place or period, examples, analogies, etc., when called upon to do so. This ready command of the mind's store of knowledge by the will presupposes that there has been an orderly ar- rangement of the materials, that when new acquisitions were made, these were linked on (by contiguity and simi- larity, to old acquisitions. It is only when there has been the full co-operation of the will in this earlier or acquisi- tive. stage that there can be a ready command of the ma- terials gained in the later stage of reproduction. CHAPTER X. MEMORY (CONTINUED). Memory and its Degrees. Memory is the power of retaining and reproducing anything that has been im- pressed on the mind, whether by way of the senses or through the medium of language. Its laws were consid- ered in the foregoing chapter. We have now to examine into the several varieties of this mental power, and its mode of development. The degree of perfection with which we remember anything may be measured by two main tests (i) the length of time during which the mind retains the impres- sion, and (2) the degree of distinctness of the images recalled and the readiness with which they are recalled. A child remembers well when he remembers long and per- manently. And he remembers well when he can call up distinctly what he has learned. Although we commonly speak of memory as if it were a simple indivisible faculty, it would be more correct to say that it consists of a number of distinct powers, as the retention of sights, sounds, and so forth. It is one thing to recall a musical sound or a series of such sounds, an- other to recall a group of visible objects. There are as many compartments of memory as there are kinds of im- pression. Thus there is a memory for visual impressions, and another for auditory impressions. Within the limits of one and the same sense, too, there are distinct differ- REVIVABILITY OF IMPRESSIONS. 151 ences of memory. Thus the memory for colors is differ- ent from the memory for forms, the memory for musical sounds from the memory for articulate sounds. In addi- tion to these retentions of passive impressions there are retentions of active experiences, as our various manual movements and our vocal actions. Speaking generally, and disregarding for the present individual differences, we may say that the higher the sense in point of discriminative refinement the better the corresponding memory. We appear to recall sights best of all. Our knowledge of things is largely made up of visual pictures. Next to sights come sounds. As pointed out above, words play an important secondary part in the memory of things. Then follow touches, which are less easily revived, and finally smells and tastes,* which are only faintly revivable. Further, since the muscular sense is characterized by a high degree of refinement, the reten- tion of our active experiences is in general relatively good. It must be remembered, too, that our muscular experi- ences are uniformly accompanied by passive impressions, and that these serve materially to support the retention. Thus the child recalls the manual movements involved in writing or in playing the piano, by the aid of visual images of his moving hands. Beginnings and Growth of Memory. Memory presupposes a certain exercise of the senses and the growth of perception. Images do not appear till sense- knowledge has reached a certain stage of development. The inability of the infant mind to keep up an image even a short time after an impression is illustrated in the fact that after examining a biscuit-tin and finding nothing in it, it will presently put its hand in again, quite losing sight of its previous experience. On the other * It has often been remarked that though we dream of banquets, it is the look of the delicious viands that we imagine rather than their flavors. 1 5 2 MEM OR Y (CONTINUED). hand, children, even in this early period, clearly display the lower form of retentive power, viz., that of recog- nizing objects when they reappear after an interval. Thus a child less than three months old will remember the face of his nurse or father for some weeks. The first distinct images are the result of many accumulating traces of percepts. They are such as are closely associ- ated with, and so immediately called up by, the actual im- pressions of the moment. The interesting experiences of the meal, the bath, and the walk are the first to be dis- tinctly represented. As the interest in things extends, and the observing powers grow, distinct mental pictures of ob- jects are formed. A child of three months who had been accustomed to watch a bird singing in a cage, when it happened to see the cage without the bird, showed all the signs of bitter disappointment.* Repetition of Experience. As experiences repeat themselves and traces accumulate, the mental images be- come more distinct, and are more firmly associated ; also the number of representations and of associative links in- creases. The learning of the meaning of words, which begins about the age of six months, i. e., several months before the actual employment of them, greatly enlarges the range of suggestion.! After this the mother or the nurse is able to call up the image of absent objects, such as per- sons or animals, by talking of them. The repetition of conjunctions of experience further brings about whole groups and series of representations. The child's mind is able to pass not only from the actual impression of the * M. Perez. " The First Three Years of Childhood," p. 147. Mr. Darwin, in some notes of one of his children, records the first distinct appearances of ideas or images at five months. At this age the child, as soon as his hat and cloak had been put on, became very cross if not taken out at once. f Mr. Darwin's boy at the age of seven months would turn and look at his nurse when her name was pronounced. HOW MEMORY IMPROVES. 153 moment to the image of something immediately accom- panying it, but from this last to another image, and so on. Thus a child of eighteen months will mentally rehearse a series of experiences, as those of a walk : " Go tata, see geegee, bowwow," etc. New Experiences. The child's experience is not a mere series of repetitions. There is a continual widen- ing of the range of objects and impressions. This exten- sion is due in part to the expansion of his interest in things, and in part to the changes in his environment. In this way fresh materials are being stored up in the mem- ory. And the growth of memory shows itself in the in- creasing range and rapidity of these new acquisitions. These two aspects of the growth of memory, the attain- ment of a firmer hold on what has been learned, and the extension of the area of acquisition, are to a certain extent opposed. The further fixing of the old uses up mental energy required for adding new elements to the stock of acquisitions. The conservative tendency in memory works against the progressive. And conversely, the throw- ing of mental energy into the work of acquiring new knowledge tends to the displacement of the old. This lat- ter effect is more manifest in early life.* The child has his past impressions rendered indistinct by the flood of new ones that excite his interest and engage his mental energy. This effect, however, becomes less noticeable as his powers gain in strength. A child of six or eight years manages to lay up new materials with far less loss of old ones than one of three or four. And this advantage is due not merely to an improvement in the capacity of memory, but in part to an increased ability to discover the links of association between the new and the old. How Memory Improves. This process of growth, this continual increase in the store of acquisitions, implies * In old age the other effect, the exclusion of new acquisitions by a tenacious clinging to the old, is most apparent. 1 54 MEMOR Y (CONTINUED). an improvement in the power of seizing and retaining new impressions. By this is meant that any particular ac- quisitive task will become easier, and that more difficult feats of retention will become possible. The progress of retentive and reproductive power may be viewed under three aspects. First of all, impressions will be acquired or stored up more readily (for a given time). Less concentration and fewer repetitions are needed for the fixing of an impression. Or, to put it otherwise, a given amount of concentration and repetition will lead to a storing up of more material, that is, more complex groups of impressions. This may be called in- creased facility in acquisition. Secondly, impressions are retained longer. A given amount of effort in the acquisi- tive stage will result in a more enduring or permanent re- tention. This aspect may be marked off as an increase in the tenacity of memory. Thirdly, this progress implies a more perfect form of revival. That is to say, impressions will be recalled more readily and with a higher degree of distinctness and fidelity than formerly. Causes of Growth of Memory. This increase in retentive power is due to some considerable extent to the spontaneous development of the brain powers. All men- tal acquisition appears to involve certain formations or structural changes in the brain. The capability of the organ of undergoing these changes, or what has been called its plastic power, increases rapidly during the early part of life. Impressions of all sorts stamp themselves more deeply on the mind of a child ten years old than on that of a child three or four years old, owing to this greater plasticity of the brain. This condition explains the precocity of memory. It is commonly said that the power of storing up new impressions reaches its maximum in early youth, and the fact is undoubtedly connected with the physiological fact that later on the structure of the brain is more set, or less modifiable. VARIETIES OF MEMORY. 155 While the development of memory is thus dependent on the gradual unfolding of the plastic power of the brain, it is not wholly determined by this. A child whose facul- ties were not duly exercised by the supply of external ob- jects, and of impressions to be stored up and recalled* would not attain to the normal degree of retentive power of his years. The actual progress of memory, the im- provement in the aptitude to acquire and reproduce knowledge, is the result of a constant exercise of the faculty. The precise effects of this exercise will be spoken of presently when we come to consider the differ- ent directions in which memory is susceptible of develop- ment. Varieties of Memory, General and Special. There is probably no power which varies more among individuals than memory. The interval which separates a person of average memory from one of the historical examples, as Joseph Scaliger, Pascal, or Macaulay, seems scarcely measurable.* One person's memory may differ from another's in a number of respects. In the first place, one learner may exhibit more of one of the properties of a good memory specified above. For example, one boy will be quick in acquiring, but not correspondingly tenacious, illustrating the saying "easy come, easy go." Another boy will re- tain firmly what he has once thoroughly learned, but be wanting in readiness in bringing out and using what he knows. On the other hand, a boy may show himself particularly smart in recalling and displaying his knowl- edge, and yet, like many a fluent talker, be only a super- ficial learner. These differences give well-marked peculiari- ties of character to the memories of different individuals. In the second place, there are very distinct differences * Casaubon says of Scaliger : " He read nothing (and what did he not read ?) which he did not forthwith remember." Pascal says he never forgot anything which he had read or thought. 156 MEMORY (CONTINUED). amcng children and adults with respect to the range of memory, or the amount and variety of material which can be retained. Some persons of exceptional endowment have a good average power of retaining impressions of all kinds, whereas there are others who have a low average capacity. This would be called a difference in general memory. From these differences in average power of retentive- ness we may distinguish differences in special directions, or special memory. Thus, for example, one boy will be found to have a good retentive power for impressions of sight or of hearing as a whole, whereas others will show a deficiency on this side. Or, again, a child may display special aptitude in retaining some particular variety of these, as impressions of color or of musical sound. Or, once more, our memory may display particular strength in the retention of some circumscribed group of objects^ as faces. In this way arise what are known as the musical memory, pictorial memory, the memory for faces, scenery, etc. As illustrations of such exceptional retentive power in particular directions, may be mentioned Horace Vernet and Gustave Dore", who could paint a portrait from mem- ory ; Mozart, who wrote down the " Miserere " of the Sis- tine Chapel after hearing it twice. Even differences in general power of memory prob- ably turn to a considerable extent on special differences, namely, in verbal retention. Although to recall words is not the same as to recall things, the latter operation can not be carried on to any considerable extent apart from the former. Hence a large, capacious memory has in all ' cases been largely sustained by an exceptional verbal re- tentiveness. Besides the points of difference just enumerated, there are others which are by no means unimportant. Thus we find that memories vary not only with respect to the particular impressions which are best recalled, but also with respect to the particular mode of grouping CAUSES OF DIFFERENCE. 157 which is most successful. Thus, some appear to connect visible objects locally better than others ; whereas these last may have a better power of linking together successive pictures answering to events. The former would have a better local, pictorial, or geographical memory, the latter a better historical, or possibly a better scientific memory. Closely connected with these differences are those due to the habitual way of committing things to memory, or arranging acquisitions in the mind. Some minds tend to connect things with their adjuncts of time and place, whereas others rather arrange their impressions according to their relations of similarity, cause and effect, etc. Causes of Difference. These differences are plainly due either to native inequalities or to differences in the kind and amount of exercise undergone in the course of the past life. There are native differences with respect to the average retentive power, by reason of which one child is from the first capable of retaining impressions of all kinds more easily than another. Such inequalities are no doubt connected with differences in the degree of struct- ural perfection of the organs as a whole, namely, the sense-organs and the brain. As Locke observes, "An impression made on bees-wax or lead will not last so long as on brass or steel." * In addition to these origi- nal differences of brain plasticity as a whole, there are special differences connected with the varying degrees of perfection of particular sense-organs. Thus a child with a good natural ear for musical sounds would be likely to retain these impressions better than another child wanting this sense-endowment. And this for a double reason: (i) because such a superiority would imply a finer dis- criminative capacity in respect of sound (and retentive- nes3 varies roughly with the degree of discrimination) ; and (2) because this natural superiority commonly carries with it a special interest in the impressions coricerned. A child with a good ear for musical sounds will in general take special pleasure in noting their peculiarities. At the same time it is clear that the differences observ- * " Concerning Education," 176. 158 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. able in people's memories are due in part to differences of circumstances, exercise, and education. While in the case of every individual the amount of "natural retentiveness " or degree of " brain plasticity " limits the power of memory as a whole, much may be done by suitable exercise to improve the faculty within these limits. The discipline of the school, if judicious, tends very materially to im- prove the child's memory by developing the potential capacities of his brain. It is, however, in the improvement of memory in special directions that the effects of exercise are most conspicuous. Assuming the whole retentive power of the individual's brain to be a definite quantity not susceptible of being increased by exercise, it is evident that his special circumstances and education will determine the particular channels into which this brain-energy is diverted. It is well known that the habitual direction of the mind to any class of impressions very materially strengthens the reten- tive power in respect of these. The blind not only per- ceive by touch better than those who see, but recall and imagine touches in a way that we perhaps can hardly understand. Owing to this effect of habitual concentra- tion each mind becomes specially retentive in the direction in which its ruling interest lies. Thus every special em- ployment, as that of engineer, linguist, or musician, tends to produce a corresponding special retentiveness of mem- ory. It is of the greatest importance to understand the pre- cise effects of exercise on the improvement of memory as a whole and in special forms. As already pointed out, there are limits set to the retentive powers of every indi- vidual. The whole aggregate of acquisitions is determined by the child's co-efficient of brain plasticity. Conse- quently, energy used up in strengthening the memory on one side necessarily hinders an equal development of it on other sides. Not only so, the exercising of the memory in TRAINING OF THE MEMORY. 159 any given direction develops certain predominant interests and modes of association which tells against the conquest of a new region of acquisition. Thus, a boy who has been absorbed in linguistic study, in analyzing the forms of verbal structure, is, pro tanto, disqualified for a genuine study of literature, as such. His habit of considering grammatical forms would impede the free concentration of the thoughts on the quality of the ideas and of the literary style.* There is no doubt a set-off against this. All learning is one and the same process. Consequently, the learning one thing well will undoubtedly help the pupil to attain the art of learning things well generally. Thus, the attain- ment of readiness and skill in mastering materials, in fixing the thoughts, in arranging, and so on, will very materially reduce the labor of learning a new subject. Again, so far as the new subject presents points of analogy and attachment to the old one, the earlier attain- ments will of course further the later ones. Thus, a boy who has mastered one science will be better placed for attacking another. This helpful effect, however, is most apparent where the new and the old subjects belong to the same domain of learning. The mastery of a number of languages helps the acquisition of a new one to so large an extent that a man can go on gaining in the power of learning languages long after the period of greatest plas- ticity of brain is past. Training of the Memory. To exercise and im- prove the memory is allowed by all to be one chief part of the business of the educator, and more especially the school-teacher. Hence it is a matter of importance to understand what is involved in the training of the faculty, and by what methods it may be best effected. * This is emphasized by Beneke, who observes that " every mental connection already formed, and formed with a certain degree of strength, is prejudicial to the formation of the new connection." 160 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. The training of the memory aims directly at exercising the child in storing up and reproducing a quantity of val- uable intellectual material, impressions, facts, and truths. This material is obtained either directly b'y the observa- tion of real things, as in the object-lesson, or indirectly by way of verbal instruction. The more firmly the knowl- edge is retained, and the more readily and distinctly it is reproduced, the better the training. Along with this result, the accumulation and mastery of so much knowledge, the educator aims by means of such acquisition at improving the child's power of acquir- ing and retaining other knowledge than that learned in the process. In other words, he seeks to produce a good type of the acquisitive or learning faculty in general. As Locke puts it, " the business of education is not, as I think, to make them (the young) perfect in any one of the sciences, but so to open and dispose their minds, as may best make them capable of any, when they shall apply themselves to it." * And so far as the teacher makes this wider result his object, he will be guided in his choice of materials, as well as of method, by their fitness to contribute most effectually to the improvement of the learning faculty. The culture of a child's memory claims the educator's attention from the first. As a precocious faculty it needs to be exercised by the parent before the period of school life. The fact that early impressions are the most lasting makes it specially important that a right direction should be given to the first development of the faculty.! This regulation of the acquisitive processes may be said to begin with the use of language by the nurse and the mother in naming to the child the various objects of sight. The systematic training of the memory should be first car- ried out in close connection with observation. The mean- * " Of the Conduct of the Understanding," ed. by Prof. Fowler, p. 44. f " Natura tenacissimi sumus eorum, quae rudibus annis percepi- mus." (Quintilian.) TRAINING OF THE MEMORY. 161 ing of words should be taught by connecting them with the real objects, that is to say, by simultaneously naming and pointing out an object. The naming of the proper- ties and effects of things is an important completion of the object-lesson. As supplementary to this, the child should be exercised in recalling by means of words the impres- sions directly received from external objects. The parent can do much to develop the memory of the child by en- couraging him to describe what he sees, to narrate the day's experience, and so forth. After a sufficient store of first-hand knowledge has thus been accumulated, the memory should be trained in the acquisition of knowledge about things at second-hand, that is to say, through the medium of instruction. The early period of school life is said to be the most favorable one for the building up of such verbal acquisitions. It costs less effort in this early stage of development to learn the concrete facts of history, geography, or language, than it would cost at a later date. Hence it has been called the "plastic period."* In training the memory the different characteristics of a good memory should be kept in view. These, as already pointed out, are : (i) aptitude in applying the mind to a subject and acquiring knowledge ; (2) a firm grasp of what is thus learned, or tenacity of memory ; and (3) readiness in recalling and making use of what has been stored up in the mind. To this some would add a fourth excellence, viz., fidelity or accuracy in reproduction, f A * Prof. Bain regards the period of maximum plasticity as extending from about the sixth to the tenth year. (" Science of Education," p. 186.) f Quintilian says, " Memoriae duplex virtus : facile percipere et fideliter continere." Dugald Stewart distinguishes between quickness, tenacity and readiness (" Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind," chap, vi, 2). J. Huber adds the fourth excellence, fidelity (" Ueber das Gedachtniss "). Mr. Quick has pointed out that a good memory brings "into consciousness what is wanted, and nothing else '." II 1 62 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. glance at these suggests that there are two main divisions in the art of training the memory : (a) the calling forth of the pupil's power of acquisition, or aptitude in storing up knowledge ; (l>) the practicing him in recalling what he has learned. In respect of each part, a judicious and effective training will proceed by recognizing the natural conditions of retention and the particular stage of devel- opment reached. Although in practice these run on to- gether, we may, to a certain extent, treat them as separate processes. (a) Exercise in Acquisition. In this stage the first rule to be attended to is to take the child at his best. Committing anything to memory is a severe demand on the brain energies, and should so far as possible be rele- gated to the hours of greatest vigor and freshness. The morning is the right time for learning. Heavy preparation work in the evening, especially in the case of young chil- dren, is distinctly injurious. At the same time, the prac- tice of refreshing the impressions of the day by going over notes of lessons has undoubted advantages ; and many a learner has testified to the fact that rehearsing a lesson before falling asleep is an aid to the lively reproduction of it on the morrow. The next rule is that every resource should be used to make the subjects to be learned as interesting as possible. "The complaints of many distinguished men about the drudgery of school learning may remind us how easy it is to overlook this condition. A large number of boys have, like the old writer Schuppius, taken heart by com- mitting things to memory "in spem futurae oblivionis." : It has been observed by an eminent living teacher that " the memory of the young is very good if they care for what they are about." In order to secure this condition * Quoted by Mr. Quick in a highly interesting lecture, on "The Teacher's Use of the Memory." See " Journal of Education," July, 1884. EXERCISE IN ACQUISITION. 163 we must consult the learner's natural tastes to some extent, and keep in view what Locke calls " the seasons of apti- tude and inclination." And we must further seek to de- velop an interest in the subjects studied. The awaken- ing of interest consists not only in developing the intrin- sic attractiveness of subjects, but also in helping the child to realize the uses of knowledge, and the power it brings to its possessor. Perhaps one of the chief drawbacks of school as compared with home teaching is that it tends to put the day's lessons so completely outside the circle of home-interests that the pupil comes to look on the knowl- edge gained as something artificial and unreal. Where, on the other hand, the lessons are given at home and under the supervision of an intelligent mother or father, the attractions of learning are vastly increased by the opportunities opened up for applying it.* The parents should always co-operate with the teacher in seeking to work against this tendency to divorce knowledge from the real interests of life. To a child toiling with the difficul- ties of French or German, a half-hour's easy chat in that language with the father or mother will bring a stimulus the school-master can never provide. The mere talking over the day's lesson with a sympathetic parent is a pow- erful encouragement. Dr. Johnson tells us that when a child he used, after acquiring a new piece of knowledge, to run and tell it to an old woman of whom he was fond, and that this practice helped to imprint what he learned on his memory. Again, in training the memory a judicious use must be made of the principle of repetition. This condition should be observed in giving the instruction. Thus, when the teacher writes the chief points of an oral lesson on the * Miss Edgeworth emphasizes the importance of cultivating the memory and the inventive faculty together. " Children who invent ex- ercise their memory with pleasure from the immediate sense of utility and success." " Practical Education," vol. iii, p. 101. 1 64 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. blackboard he introduces a nsw sense-medium, the eye, and so tends to fix the subject by the force of repetition. Revision lessons, going over the work of the term, are an- other illustration of the value of repetition. In addition to this, the pupils should be encouraged to ruminate on the subject-matter of the lesson after it is over, to write out an epitome of it, and to talk it over. And here again the parent may supplement the work of the teacher. The advantage of writing out and giving an oral account of what has been learned, soon afterward, is that it requires a steady concentration of the thoughts on the subject. Any system of instruction that does not allow adequate time for this mental brooding over new acquisitions is con- demned on that account. All hurry in getting over the ground is fatal to permanent recollections. Seneca ob- serves : " Dediscit animus sero quod didicit diu." 1 Lastly, the educator should make ample use of the laws of association. This includes two things : (i) the connecting of the several parts of the new matter in the best possible way one with another ; and (2) the connect- ing of the new acquisition with the old. Thus, in teach- ing a geographical fact, say the position of Liverpool, its relations to other places, as America, Manchester, etc., should be made clear. Similarly, in narrating an historical event its several actions and incidents should be clearly set forth in their order of time, also the antecedent and attendant circumstances fitted to throw light on the causes of the event be added. There should, moreover, be a certain order of procedure, the more important events being used as a central thread about which the subordi- nate events are entwined. In this way the materials are arranged, and the retention greatly promoted. Again, in connecting the new with the old, all available aid should be derived from tracing similarities under the form of analogies, e. g., between the Norman invasion of England and the earlier invasions. As supplementary to LEARNING BY HEART. 165 this, the teacher should bring out the points of difference and contrast between the events, e. g., between the effects of the Saxon and Norman invasions on the population of the island. We thus see that the most effectual way of arranging the materials for purposes of retention is pre- cisely that which best subserves the understanding of the whole.* Learning by Heart. Among the most constant of the associations resorted to by the teacher are the verbal ones. Teaching necessarily proceeds by the medium of language. And the pupil helps to remember what he learns by the aid of words. The full use of these verbal associations is seen in what is known as learning by heart. This implies that the learner firmly retains a piece of knowledge in a definite verbal form, which form serves as a support of the ideas acquired as well as a medium for reproducing these. The learning of the multiplication- table, grammatical rules, and poetry illustrates the pro- cess. There is an obvious danger in this mode of learning ; it tends to a mechanical habit of committing words and not ideas to memory. That is to say, the mind of the learner uses the verbal series not simply as a support of, but as a substitute for, the sequence of ideas. This par- rot-like mode of learning is particularly insidious, because it appears to save the learner, and certainly sav.es the teacher, a good deal of trouble. The verbal memory is strong in children, and they are prone to lean on it to ex- cess ; and it is plainly a much simpler problem for the teacher to test whether a child has retained the verbal form than whether he has grasped the ideal substance. Owing to these and other reasons, such as the greater value attached to the verbal memory when books were * Miss Edgeworth remarks that the order of time is the first and easiest principle of association. Arrangement according to logical connection will follow later. " Practical Education," vol. iii, p. 92. 166 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. scarce, the older method of teaching was characterized by the predominance of merely verbal acquisition. And the chief direction of modern educational reform has been the substitution of a real knowledge of things for a mere knowledge of words. Hence the practice of learning by heart has fallen into disfavor. "Learning by heart," says Locke, "... I know not what it serves for but to mis- spend their time and pains, and give them a disgust and aversion to their books." 17 Pope satirizes the practice in the " Dunciad " : " Since man from beast by words is known, Words are man's province, words we teach alone." It is probable that this revolt from the tyranny of words has led educationists to undervalue the real service of language in learning. In many cases the embodiment of knowledge in a precise verbal form is necessary, e. g., in arithmetical and other formulae, the rules of grammar, the laws of science.* And in every case the verbal mem- ory should be allowed a certain play. As was pointed out above, the men who have been most remarkable for learning have been greatly helped by their verbal memory. And in early life, when the aptitude of committing words to memory is so strong, it would be folly to make no use of it in education. What the teacher has to take care of is, that he does not use the child's verbal memory to urge him on to learn what he can not yet understand ; that the ideas are firmly retained along with the words, and that the pupil is not slavishly dependent on them, and can put his knowledge into other forms when required. It might be well to distinguish between learning by heart and learning by rote, confining the former to the legitimate practice of learning by help of a definite verbal form, and reserving the latter for the pernicious practice * This has been well illustrated by Mr. Fitch. " Lectures on Teach- ing," p. 131, and following. ART OF MNEMONICS. 167 of learning words instead of the facts and truths they represent. Thus, in committing a poem to memory, it is important to distinguish an accurate reproduction of the whole poem, words and ideas, from the parrot-like repro- duction of the mere sounds. It is evident that the former is by far the more interesting exercise. And it may be added that in reality it is the easier too. Where the child has only the verbal associations to help him, he is much more likely to forget than when he grasps the meaning too, and so has as an additional aid to recollection in the links of connection that join together the successive ideas a fact that might easily be tested by giving a child first a poem dealing with a very abstruse subject and quite above his comprehension, and afterward a simple and attractive ballad.* Art of Mnemonics. In ancient times great impor- tance was attached to certain devices for aiding memory and shortening its work, which devices have been known as artificial memory, memoria technica, and the art of mnemonics. Thus, among the Greek and Roman teachers of oratory, much emphasis was laid on a topical memory, i. e., the connecting of the several heads of a discourse with different divisions of a house or other building, so as to recover them by the aid of visual pictures of these places. And in modern times attempts have been made to shorten the process of learning, dates, etc., by mne- monic word-forms, and lines. This idea of relieving memory owed much of its apparent importance to the theory that the main business of learning is to commit words to memory. When this theory obtained, learning was necessarily a dry occupation, and the pupil's mind was wearied by excessive tasks in verbal acquisition. * Strictly speaking, what is called learning by rote derives some as- sistance from the associations of the ideas. As Jean Paul Richter dryly observes, word-memory, as distinct from thing-memory, would be best tested by committing to memory a sheet of Hottentot names. 1 68 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. Hence the eagerness to find devices for shortening the toil. Now, that this theory is abandoned, less importance is attached to a mnemonic art. When things are taught only in so far as they can be understood, it is held that the relations of place, time, cause and effect, etc., between the facts should form the main basis of acquisition. In other words, the more things are connected in their natural relations, the less will be the task imposed on the verbal memory.* Although there are no definite rules for aiding the memory which are valid in all cases, there is such a thing as a skillful management of the memory. This will in- clude the formation of habits, not only of concentration and repetition, but of selecting and grouping or arranging. Memory-labor is greatly economized by detecting what is important and overlooking what is unimportant. When Simondes offered to teach Themistocles the art of mem- ory, the latter answered, " Rather teach me the art of forgetting." Children are apt to overload their minds with useless matter, and they should be exercised in selec- tion. The labor of memory is lightened, too, by finding appropriate " pegs " on which to hang new acquisitions. Among these pegs must be reckoned the places in which information can be found. To associate book-knowledge with particular books, and places in these, other kinds of knowledge, with particular persons (experts), is a great saving of memory-labor. This has been called the index- memory. Learners will unconsciously further the work of learn- ing by all manner of devices that can not readily be re- duced to a definite formula. Thus, one child in learning * For an account of the different systems of mnemonics, see article " Mnemonics," " Encyclopaedia Britannica," and article " Memory," in " Chambers's Encyclopaedia " ; and for a critical inquiry into the value of artificial aids to memory, see Dugald Stewart's "Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind," chap, vi, 7. EXERCISE IN RECALLING. 169 that the Tudors are followed by the Stuarts will notice the odd sequence, T. S. ; and by so doing will retain the succession more easily. In learning a foreign language, the pupil will often shorten the labor by discovering slight and fanciful resemblances between the new vocables and familiar words in his mother-tongue. Such devices are perfectly allowable so long as the subject-matter is con- nected in an arbitrary way only, as in the case of names of sovereigns, chief towns, etc., lists of irregular verbs, and so forth. They only become mischievous when they draw off the attention from natural and logical relations. Where the matter committed to memory is such as re- quires to be learned in a definite verbal form, the use of alliteration and verse-form, as in the well-known mne- monic lines in grammar, logic, etc., is a valuable aid to the memory. The aids thus resorted to will differ in the case of dif- ferent children. Some children will remember ideas better by the aid of visual pictures, others better by series of sound-representations. The young are wont to help themselves out of the difficulty of retaining what is difficult, e. g., letters, numbers, dates, by the aid of visual forms (geometrical schemes, and so on). And teachers would do well to find out these spontaneous tendencies of children's minds, and to aid them in the process of economizing intellectual labor. 18 (b) Exercise in Recalling. In addition to exercis- ing the child in committing to memory, the teacher has to exercise him in reproducing what has been learned. He does this for a variety of reasons. First of all, he requires to test the child's power of retention and the tenacity of his memory. Again, he continually needs to recall past acquisitions in order to make sure of taking the pupil on to an intelligent grasp of new ones. In expounding any subject, the elements learned at the outset are required from time to time as the pupil advances to the higher 1 70 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. stages. And here the child should be required to repro- duce for himself. Lastly, it is desirable to examine chil- dren in a wider and more searching way as to what they have learned, with a view to make them ready in looking up facts when they are wanted, finding illustrations of principles, and so forth. Such exercises tend to develop readiness in reproduction, a quality hardly less valuable than retention ; for, as Locke observes, " the dull man who loses the opportunity while he is seeking in his mind for those ideas that should serve his turn, is not much more happy in his knowledge than one that is perfectly ignorant." This part of the training of the memory should be car- ried out partly by the parents and partly by the school- teacher. The home can be made the field of such exer- cise by encouraging the child in recalling what he has momentarily forgotten, in recounting his experiences, in giving a sketch of his day's lessons, and so forth, and thus practicing him in the voluntary command of his ac- quisitions, in clearness and accuracy of description, and in an orderly method of arranging his materials. But it is to the teacher that we must look for the systematic ex- ercise of the memory in this respect. Skill in putting questions and in examining is one chief qualification of a good educator. How to separate real from merely verbal knowledge, and thorough knowledge from a superficial smattering ; how to eliminate the effects of hasty " cram " and to make sure of a firm, tenacious grasp of knowledge ; how to test the valuable quality of promptness in repro- duction, without discouraging those who are tenacious though slow these are among the difficult problems of the modern teacher 19 and examiner. Subjects which exercise the Memory. All branches of study exercise the memory in some measure. The student of the higher mathematics remembers the principles and the demonstrations of his science, and this largely by the aid of language or other visual symbols. EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF MEMORY. 171 But when we talk of a subject exercising the memory we mean more (or less) than this. We refer to those subjects which have to do mainly with the particular, and the con- crete, and which appeal but little to the understanding. Such subjects are natural science, in its simpler or de- scriptive phase, geography, history, language, and the lighter departments of literature. Arithmetic, though now recognized as a subject which necessarily calls forth the child's powers of generalizing and reasoning, also makes heavy demands on the verbal memory. As was pointed out above, exercise tends to improve the capacity of learning in particular directions rather than as a whole. A pupil who has exercised his memory mainly in the study of literature, though he will have greatly strengthened it in the further acquisition of this kind of knowledge, will not have materially added to his capacity of learning other subjects, as natural science. It would seem to follow from this that a full and com> plete exercise of memory involves the taking up of a number of subjects, as literature, science, and so on. A certain range and variety of subjects is thus good for the learner. At the same time, a considerable number of disconnected subjects carried on together is preju- dicial to the memory, by preventing that firm joining to- gether of elements into a compact whole which is the condition of the best kind of memory. " Aiunt," writes Pliny, "multum legendum esse, non multa." Locke held that the true secret of learning is to learn one thing at a time ; and so admirable a scholar as Lessing tells us he followed this rule in his self-education. And it is very doubtful whether our modern fashion of introducing so many new subjects at the same time is the most efficient method of training the memory. Educational Value of Memory. The value set on the training of the memory at different times and by different writers has been a very different one. The old 172 MENTAL REPRODUCTION. MEMORY. idea was to identify memory and knowledge. ^Tantum scimus quantum memoria tenemus." As already ob- served, to know a thing implies that an impression is re- tained. Knowledge is the more or less permanent after- result of a past process of learning or coming to know. This is apparent to all. The difficulty begins when we ask what is the relation of memory to the higher faculties of judgment, imagination, etc., and to that fuller knowl- edge which we call understanding. That a certain devel- opment of the memory is necessary to the due discharge of the higher intellectual functions follows from the laws of mental development, and will be fully illustrated by- and-by. Unless the mind is stored with a good stock of concrete impressions there will be no materials for the imaginative or inventive faculty to combine, or for the un- derstanding to reduce to general concepts. As Kant observes, " The understanding has as its chief auxiliary the faculty of reproduction." Every great writer and dis- coverer has taken pains to cultivate his memory.* On the other hand, it is a matter of common testimony that the cultivation of memory to a high point may be hurtful to these higher faculties ; " beaucoup de memoire, peu de jugement," says the French proverb. Similarly, Pope observes : " Thus in the soul while memory prevails, The solid power of understanding fails." This points to a real danger in exercising the memory. Its importance has been, and still is perhaps, greatly over- rated. This was the characteristic fault of the old method of loading children's minds with a mass of ill-digested learning.! The precise value of the memory in relation * Dugald Stewart says he can scarcely recollect one man of genius who had not " more than an ordinary share " of retentive power. \ Miss Edgeworth gives an interesting explanation of the reasons why so much importance was attached to memory up to recent times. " Practical Education." vol. iii, p. 57, etc. EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF MEMORY. 173 to the understanding of facts and the practical applica- tions of knowledge should never be lost sight of. In training the memory, the teacher should exercise the judg- ment at the same time in the selection of what is really important. In this way overloading the mind will be avoided, and the higher faculty will be improved. Further, as Dugald Stewart observes in his remarks on what he calls a " philosophical memory," the learner, in commit- ting new materials to memory, should be exercised in that orderly arrangement of acquisitions, and that classification of facts under their proper heads, which is not only a great saving to the memory, but secures in the very process of storing up materials of knowledge a certain amount of exercise of the understanding itself. APPENDIX. On the laws of memory and on its culture the reader will do well to consult Dugald Stewart, " Philosophy of the Human Mind," part i, chap, vi ; Dr. Carpenter, " Mental Physiology," book ii, chap, x ; and Prof. J. Huber, " Ueber das Gedachtniss." The early development of the faculty is traced by M. Perez, " The First Three Years of Child- hood," chaps, viii and ix, and " L'Enfant de trois a sept ans," chaps, i and ii. The educational management of the memory is dealt with among others by Locke, " Some Thoughts on Education," especially sec. 176 ; Miss Edgeworth, " Essays on Practical Education," vol. ii, chap, xxi ; Mdme. Necker, " L'Education," livre vi, chap, vii ; Beneke (" Erzieh. und Unterrichtslehre," vol. i, sects. 20-22); Waitz, "Allgem. Paeda- gogik," 2d part, 3d sec. There are some good remarks on the cultiva- tion of memory in Kant's Essay, " Ueber Psedagogik." Among recent writers reference may be made to J. G. Fitch, " Lectures on Teach- ing," chap, v ; E. Thring, " Theory and Practice of Teaching," part ii, chap, vii ; and G. Compayre, " Cours de Pe'dagogie," lecon vi. The process of learning by heart is fully dealt with by Dr. J. Hoppe, " Das Auswendiglernen und Auswendighersagen." CHAPTER XI. CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. Reproductive and Constructive Imagination. In the act of reproduction the mind pictures objects and events by means of what are called images ; and thus re- production is a form of imagination. But what is popu- larly known as imagination implies more than this. When we imagine an unfamiliar coming event, or a place which is described to us, the images in our minds are not exact copies of past impressions. The results of our past expe- rience, or the contents of memory, are being in some way modified, transformed, and recombined. Hence this form of imagination has been marked off as productive imagi- nation. This process of producing new images and groups of images out of old materials appears in a number of differ- ent forms. In its lower developments it is a comparatively passive process, in which the will takes no part, and the movements of which are capricious and swayed by feeling. The childish fancy illustrates this lower variety. The higher form is an active process, in which the will directs the several steps to a definite result. This more perfect form of imaginative activity is known as constructive im- agination. The Constructive Process. This process of con- struction may be said roughly to fall into two stages, (a) Of these the first is the revival of images of past objects, THE CONSTRUCTIVE PROCESS. 175 scenes, etc., according to the laws of association. Thus, a child, in building up an idea of Africa, of the Spanish Armada, and so on, necessarily sets out with facts of his own experience recalled by memory. It is the same with his more fanciful creations of fairy-land and its inhabit- ants. It follows that the excellence of the constructive pro- cess is, in every case, limited by the strength and clearness of the reproductive faculty. Unless memory restore the impressions of past experience we can not picture a new scene or a new event. Thus, unless a child recalls, with some measure of distinctness, one or more of the blocks of ice which he has actually seen, he can not imagine an iceberg or a glacier. The more readily the reproductive faculty supplies the mind with elements, the better the result is likely to be. (b) The images of memory being thus recalled by the forces of suggestion, they are worked up as materials into a new imaginative product. This is the formative or con- structive act proper. The process resembles that of build- ing a new physical structure out of old materials. These have to be broken up, what is useless rejected, what is useful and congruous with the rest selected, and the whole put together in an orderly way so as to build up a new structure. This part of the process is the work of the will, guided by a clear representation of the result aimed at, and by a steady judgment as to what is fitting for the purpose in hand. And it is on the quality of this guiding sense of fitness that the excellence of the result mainly depends. When this is wanting, the materials supplied by reproduc- tion remain in a disorderly mass, and confuse the mind. And the more completely the will, directed by the sense of what is fitting, masters the chaos, the more perfect the final formation. According as a poet, for example, has a clear and discriminating, or a dull and obtuse, sense of 176 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. what is beautiful, harmonious, etc., his constructive work will be well or ill performed. This constructive activity assumes a lower and a higher phase. In the case of a child listening to a story it is directed from without, and subserves the reception of knowledge. In the case of a poet creating a new scene or action it is directed from within, and subserves origination. Various Forms of Construction. The essential process in imagination, viz., construction, enters into a variety of mental operations. These may be grouped under three main heads : (i) construction as subserving knowledge about things ; (2) practical construction as aiding in the acquisition of knowledge how to do things, or to adapt means to ends ; and (3) construction as satis- fying the emotions. The first may be called the intellect- ual imagination ; the second, the practical imagination or invention ; and the third, the aesthetic or poetic imagi- nation. (A) Intellectual Imagination. Every extension of knowledge beyond the bounds of personal experience involves some degree of imaginative activity. This is seen alike in the acquisition of new knowledge from others re- specting things, places, and events, and also in the inde- pendent discovery of new facts by anticipation. The first is the lower or receptive form of imagination, the second the higher and more originative. (i) Imagination and Acquisition. The process of recalling, selecting, and regrouping the traces of personal experience is illustrated in every case of acquisition. What is ordinarily called " learning," whether by oral communication or by books, is not simply an exercise of memory ; it involves an exercise of the imagination as well. In order that the meaning of the words heard or read may be realized, it is necessary to form distinct men- tal images of the objects described or the events narrated. REDUCING THE ABSTRACT. 177 Thus, in following a description of a desert, the child be- gins with familiar experiences called up by the words " plain," " sand," and so on. By modifying the images thus reproduced by memory he gradually builds up the required new image. It may be noted that here as elsewhere knowledge consists in discriminating and assimilating. The child has to assimilate what is told him in so far as it is like his past observations, and at the same time to note how the new scene differs from the old ones. The formation of a distinct and accurate image will greatly depend on the degree of perfection attained in this part of the process. In following a description children are apt to import too much into their mental picture, taking up the accidental associations with which their individual experience has in- vested the words used. And by so doing they do not sufficiently distinguish between the new and the old. That is to say, the process of selection is incomplete. On the success of this imaginative effort depends to an important extent what is known as the understanding of the description. If, for example, the mind of a child, in following a description of an iceberg, does not distinctly realize its magnitude, he will not be prepared to under- stand the dangers arising to ships from such a floating mass. Here we see the close relation between clear imagi- nation and clear thinking a relation to be spoken of again by-and-by. Reducing the Abstract to the Concrete. This imaginative realization of an object or process by the aid of descriptive terms is exceedingly difficult. Language is in its nature general and abstract. Hence all verbal description involves a gradual process of reducing lifeless generalities to a living concrete form. This is effected by adding to the general name a number of qualifying terms, each of which helps to mark off the individual thing better from other things. Thus the teacher, in de- 178 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. scribing a desert, probably begins by some general term, as a big place, and gradually makes this definite and con- crete by adding limiting or qualifying epithets, such as flat, bare, and so forth. In like manner, in describing a king or a statesman, he progressively individualizes the person by enumerating his several physical and mental qualities, such as tall, handsome, wise, and so forth. The process of realizing the description turns on the combina- tion of those several qualities into a concrete object. The scientific description of a new animal or plant by means of a highly technical terminology illustrates the difficulties of this process of " concreting the abstract " in a yet more marked manner. (2) Imagination and Discovery. The discovery of new facts is largely a matter of careful observation and patient reasoning from ascertained facts and truths. Yet imagination materially assists in the process. The inquir- ing, searching mind is always passing beyond the known to the unknown in the form of conjecturings. To guess a fact, whether it be a fact of the world around us or some- thing known to another, involves the bringing together of elements of previous knowledge, combining these in cer- tain ways, and so feeling our way by a series of tentatives to the particular combination required. The power of thus divining what is hidden by the activity of imagina- tion is variously known as insight into things and invent- iveness. The child shows the germ of this capability when picturing to himself the make of his toys, the mech- anism of the clock or the piano, the way in which plants nourish themselves and grow, and so on. The scientific discoverer shows it in a higher form in inventing hypoth- eses for the explanation of facts, and in imagining the as yet unobserved results of his reasoning processes. (B) Practical Contrivance. A process of construc- tion enters into the several departments of practical ac- quisition, such is learning to use the voice in speaking AESTHETIC IMAGINATION. 179 and singing, manual contrivances and inventions, both useful and mechanical on the one hand, and artistic on the other hand. In these various exercises of practical skill and contrivance the child is called on to recall what has been already learned, and to separate and recombine this in conformity with new circumstances and new needs. A good deal of the child's mental energy finds its natural vent in the direction of practical contrivance or inven- tion. Much of this new motor acquisition is guided by others' actions. The impulse of imitation leads a child to attempt the actions which he sees others perform. This is seen plainly enough in his play, which is largely a mimicry of the serious actions of adults. This is the re- ceptive side of practical construction. The exercises of the school, such as singing, writing, the movements of drilling, and so forth, illustrate the same process. The simpler actions of the voice, fingers or limbs, which are al- ready mastered, are combined in more complex operations under the guidance of an external model or copy. From this lower and receptive form of practical con- trivance we must mark off that higher and more original form which we know as free invention. Children find out many new combinations of movement for themselves. The mere pleasure of doing a thing, and of overcoming a difficulty, is an ample reward for many an effort in practi- cal construction. Such activity is, moreover, closely con- nected with the impulse of curiosity, the desire to find out about things, their structure and less obvious qualities. In this way practical invention assists in the discovery of facts and truths. A considerable part of a boy's knowl- edge of things is thus gained experimentally, that is to say, by means of actively dividing, joining together, and other- wise manipulating objects. (C) ^Esthetic Imagination. ^Esthetic or poetic imagination is distinguished from the other forms in being l8o CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. subservient, not to the pursuit of knowledge, whether knowledge about things or knowledge how to attain re- sults, but to emotional gratification of some kind. It in- volves the presence of some feeling, such as love or admira- tion for the beautiful, and it is this feeling which consti- tutes its stimulus and controlling force. This is illustrated in the wild dreams of the romantic boy or girl. The pro- ductive work of imagination, by bringing enjoyment to the mind that indulges in it, strengthens the force of the stimulating emotion, and so tends to sustain and intensify itself. We have seen that imagination is able (within certain limits) to vary or transform the actual events of our ex- perience. Under the stimulus of an emotion, such as the love of the marvelous or the beautiful, imagination is wont to rise above the ordinary level of experience, and to pict- ure objects, circumstances, and events surpassing those of every-day life. The ideal creations of the imagination are thus apt to transcend the region of sober fact. The child's fairy-land and the world of romance, which the poet and the novelist create for us, are fairer, more wonderful and exciting than the domain of real experience. Risks of Uncontrolled Imagination. The indul- gence in these pleasures of imagination is legitimate within certain bounds. But it is attended with dangers, moral and intellectual. A youth whose mind dwells long on the wonders of romance may grow discontented with his actual surroundings, and so morally unfit for the work and duties of life. Or, what conies to much the same, he learns to satisfy himself with these imaginative indulgences ; and so, by the habitual severance of feeling from will, grad- ually becomes incapable of deciding and acting, a result illustrated by the history of Coleridge and other " dream- ers." This constitutes a serious moral danger. Again, an unlimited indulgence in the pleasures of imagination is attended with grave intellectual dangers INTELLECTUAL VALUE OF IMAGINATION. 181 So far as imaginative activity is liberated from the control of will and judgment, and given over to the sway of emo- tion, it hinders the attainment of truth. In extreme cases it leads to such an exaggerated realization of the objects imagined as to give rise to delusion, as in the case of the dreamy child and the novel-reader. 20 And, when it falls short of this, the sway of feeling gives such a violence and a capriciousness to the movements of imagination as to unfit it for the calm and steady pursuit of truth. Strong feeling prevents a clear discriminating vision of facts, and leads to vagueness and exaggeration. Thus, if a child is powerfully affected by the pathetic aspect of an historical incident, as the execution of Mary of Scotland, his mind, fascinated by this aspect of the event, will be unfitted to imagine fully and impartially all the essential circumstances of the case, so as to arrive at a complete grasp and under- standing of the whole. Intellectual Value of Imagination. It has been customary to oppose the imagination to the understanding. To the ordinary practical intelligence the imagination seems a useless ornamental appendage to the mind, serv- ing, like the peacock's tail, only to retard its progress. And writers on the human mind have followed the popu- lar judgment in taking a low view of the intellectual serv- ices of this faculty. That there is a certain measure of truth is now apparent. Imagination, when given over to the caprices of feeling, is antagonistic to the pursuit of knowledge. At the same time, the view that imagination is uniformly opposed to intellect is erroneous, and has its roots in the more abstract psychology of an earlier age, according to which the mind is a bundle of disconnected faculties. A deeper insight into the organic unity of mind, and into the way in which different forms of mental activ- ity combine in what looks like a simple operation, shows us that imagination, instead of lying wholly outside of intel- lect, constitutes an integral factor in intellectual processes. 1 82 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. Development of Imagination. Just as memory only begins to develop when the faculty of perception has been exercised up to a certain point, so imagination only distinctly appears when memory has attained a certain stage of perfection. This applies alike to construction as concerned with objects and with actions. The child must be able to recall distinctly a number of previous sense- experiences before he can build up new pictures of what is going to happen, or strike out new combinations of movement. Germ of Imagination. In a sense the infant may be said to show the germ of imagination when letting his mind dwell on an absent object, as the mother who has just left the room, or when he anticipates some new ex- perience, as the taste of an untried fruit ; but it is not till language is mastered that the activity of the faculty be- comes well marked. It is in listening to the simple narra- tions and descriptions of the mother or nurse that the child's power of fashioning new images is first exercised. It is noteworthy that children only manifest interest in such narrations after they have been accustomed to a ver- bal recital of their own personal experiences.* The capa- bility of representing a new series of events depends on the exercise of the reproductive imagination in recalling old successions. But when this power of ready reproduc- tion has attained a certain strength, children display a keen interest in listening to new recitals. They show great liveliness and rapidity of fancy in following and realizing these narrations. As Madame Necker observes, "the pleasure which the narration of the most simple stories affords children is connected with the vivacity of the im- ages in their minds. The pictures which we call up within them are perhaps more brilliant and of richer coloring * M. Perez observes that a child of twenty months delights in re- counting his own little experiences, though he is not yet keen to heai stories. (" First Three Years of Childhood," p. 96.) THE FANCY OF CHILDREN. 183 than the real objects would be." And this vividness of the mental imagery, and intensity of realization of what is narrated to them, is further shown in the jealous concern they display for fidelity to the original version when a story is repeated. Children's Fancy. After a certain amount of ex- ercise of constructive power in this simple receptive form, the child shows a spontaneous disposition to build up fancies on his own account. The marvels which his new world presents to his mind, together with the delightful consciousness of possessing a new power, seem to be the chief forces at work here. At first this activity of fancy manifests itself in close connection with the perception of actual objects. This is illustrated in children's play. Play offers ample scope for practical ingenuity : it is the natural outcome of the active impulses of childhood, its love of doing things and of finding out new ways of doing them. But it owes its interest to another circumstance, namely, that it is a mimicry and kind of make-believe of the actions of adults. When at play the child realizes by an exercise of fancy the objects and actions which he is mimicking. The actual objects supply a basis of reality on which the imagination more easily constructs its fabric. By the "alchemy of imagination," as it has been called, the doll becomes in a manner transformed into a living child, the rude stick into a horse, and so on. A very rough basis of analogy will suffice for these creations of fancy : hence a boy will derive as much pleasure from a broken and shapeless hobby-horse as from the most life- like toy. Play thus illustrates in a striking manner the liveliness of children's fancy. In their spontaneous games they betray the germs of artistic imagination : they are in a sense at once poets and actors. 81 This exuberance of imaginative activity shows itself commonly too in another form. A child of three or four years who has heard a number of stories will display great 1 84 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. activity in modeling new ones.* These fabrications show the influence of the child's own experience and observa- tion as well as of the narratives of others. At this period free spontaneous fancy is apt to assume extravagant shapes. A strong susceptibility to the excitement of the marvelous, and a childish love of what is odd and grotesque, often supply the impelling force in these constructions. Young children are wont to project themselves in fancy to distant regions of space, and to transform themselves into other objects. Thus, a child barely three years was accustomed to wish she might live in the water with the fishes, or be a beautiful star in the sky. The daring of these combinations is to a considerable extent accounted for by the child's ignorance of what is impossible and im- probable in reality. To the young mind to fly up into the sky is an idea which has nothing absurd about it. The riotous activity of children's fancy is thus due in part to the want of those checks which a fuller experience and a riper judgment necessarily impose. Imagination brought under Control. The prog- ress of experience and the growth of knowledge lead to a moderation of childish fancy. From the first spontaneous form, in which it is free to follow every capricious impulse, it passes into the more regulated form, in which it is con- trolled by an enlightened will. That is to say, its activity becomes directed by the sense of what is true, life-like, and probable. This shows itself even in the matter of fiction. The old nursery tales cease to please. Stories bearing more resemblance to real life, histories of children, their doings and experiences, take their place. In this way the earlier impulses, the love of the marvelous, the liking * These fanciful creations are often built up on a slender basis of observation. Thus a little girl (sf years) once found a stone with a hole in it, and set to work to weave a pretty fairy-tale respecting it. To her fancy it became the wonderful stone, having inside it beautiful rooms, and lovely fairies who dance, sing, and live happily. LATER GROWTH OF IMAGINATION. 185 for the grotesque and ridiculous, are replaced by higher motives, a desire to learn about things, and a regard for what is true to nature and life ; and this result is seen still more clearly in the gradual subjection of the imagina- tion to the ends of knowledge and truth. As youth pro- gresses, more and more of imaginative activity is absorbed in reading and learning about the facts of the real world. Later Growth of Imagination. Although through the development of the powers of judgment and reasoning the child's wild fancy becomes curbed, it is a mistake to suppose that the imaginative powers cease to grow. We are apt to attribute to children a high degree of imagina- tiveness just because we are struck by the boldness of their conceits. But the same child that performs one of these " feats of imagination " would find it difficult to form a clear mental picture of an animal or a city that was described to him. The power of imaginative con- struction goes on developing, with the gradual enrichment of the memory, by the fruits of experience, as well as with the repeated exercise of the faculty. 23 This higher development of the imaginative faculty means, first of all, increased facility in grouping elements of experience. A piece of imaginative work of the same degree of complexity comes to be executed in less time and with less effort. Thus the child of twelve follows a book of travel or an historical narrative with greater facility than one of six. Similarly, the advanced student of botany or zoology finds it easier to realize a description of a plant or animal than a tyro in the science. In the second place, this progress implies an increase in the difficulty of the operations which become possible. By more difficult operations must be understood either more complex com- binations, such as the visualizing of a large and intricate scene, say a battle ; or combinations more remote from our every-day experience, as the scenery and events of M Paradise Lost," or the life of primitive races. 1 86 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. Varieties of Imaginative Power. Different per. sons differ in power of imagination no less markedly per- haps than in that of memory. These differences may be either general or special. One boy will display superior constructive ability generally. More commonly, excel- lence in imaginative capability shows itself in some special direction. Thus, we have a good imagination for visible objects, for musical combinations, for practical expedients, and so forth. And as a more circumscribed development we find a specially good power of imagining natural scenery, faces, or historical incidents. These differences plainly depend partly on native in- equalities and partly on differences in surroundings, the influence of companionship, and special exercise and train- ing. Children differ from the first in their formative power as a whole. Some minds are able to readily recast the various results of their experience, while others find it hard to break up the mental connections forged by ex- perience. Again, we commonly observe a special bent to one kind of imaginative activity, which is the outcome of a specially good sense, with its accompanying superior degree of retentiveness. In this way the born painter, with his fine eye and his good memory for color, would naturally find it easy to exercise his imagination on this material. Not only so, the emotional susceptibilities and the special interests of the individual have much to do with fixing the special line of development of the imagina- tion. A naturally strong liking for scientific observation and discovery leads a boy to exercise his imagination in relation to natural phenomena and their laws, whereas a deep feeling for the beautiful aspect of things would impel the imagination to follow the line of artistic or poetic com- bination. While in this way much of the difference, with respect both to the general and to the special development of imaginative power, is predetermined by natural aptitude IMAGINATIVE TRAINING. 187 and inclination, the influence of surroundings and of edu- cation is a considerable one. Systematic training will never make a naturally unimaginative child quick to im- agine, but it may materially improve the power, and even raise it to a respectable height in some special direc- tion. Training of the Imagination. The notion that the educator has a special work to do in exercising and guiding the imagination of the young is a comparatively new one. The common supposition of the inutility, not to say the mischievous nature, of the faculty touched on above naturally led to the idea that if the educator had anything to do with the imagination of his pupils, it was solely by way of repressing its activity. It is to be hoped, however, that a clearer apprehension of the scope of imag- inative activity, and the important part it plays in the operations of intellect, will turn teachers' attention more and more to the problem of helping to develop the faculty in a healthy and worthy form. As has been pointed out above, the imagination, in the unregulated form of fancy, is a precocious faculty. Chil- dren often show a liveliness, a rapidity, and a daring in their fancies which astonish their elders. This precocity of the imaginative faculty points to the need of an edu- cational discipline of it at an early stage of mental devel- opment. In truth, the work of training the imagination should begin and be carried to a certain stage in the child's home. Twofold Direction of Imaginative Training. The peculiar position of imagination, in relation to the intellect on one side and to the feelings and character on the other, gives rise to educational problems of peculiar complexity. The teacher must keep in mind the several aspects and functions of this mental power, if he would assign it its proper place in a scheme of mental training. Speaking broadly, we may say that the discipline of the 188 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. imagination has a negative or prohibitory, and a positive or regulative side. (a) Restraining Fancy. It follows, from what was said above respecting the intellectual and moral dangers of an excessive indulgence of the imagination, that the faculty may need to be curbed and restrained. The edu- cator must remember that, as Miss Edgeworth observes, imagination, like fire, "is a good servant, but a bad mas- ter." In the case of children the liveliness of their fancies, their ignorance and timidity, expose them to special risks from this source. The fact that children are apt to take all stories of fairy, giant, and so on as gospel imposes special obligations on the parent and teacher. Their minds may easily be overexcited by stories. Not only so, children are wont to believe in the reality of their dreams, and many a child has suffered much from haunting recol- lections of its nightmare fancies.* Every care must be taken to ward off and dispel dismal fancies. And, further, a too decided bent to imaginative indulgence, to building castles in the air, and to reverie, should be corrected by calling forth the faculties of the child's mind in grappling with real facts, and in attractive and useful kinds of ac- tivity. In thus repressing childish fancy, however, much dis- crimination and judgment is needed. Educators have been wont, perhaps, to overestimate the evils of children's flights of fancy. The imaginative creation of a glorious realm of fairy-land is natural and appropriate to childhood. It is the source of much pure delight, and the fond de- lusion tends, in ordinary cases, to disappear with so little suffering that its harmful effects become evanescent. It is only in special cases, where there is a specially lively fancy and a too tenacious hold on the imaginary world, with a corresponding want of interest in adjacent reali- * Beneke tells us that both Erhard and Kasper Hauser, when chil- dren, believed in the reality of their dreams. CULTIVATING THE IMAGINATION. 189 ties, that a decided interference by the educator is called for. 23 (b) Cultivating the Imagination. While the edu- cator has thus to check and limit the activity of youthful fancy in certain directions, he has also an important function to discharge in aiding to develop the faculty. He should remember that the playful activity of the fancy at this early period is valuable as a preparation for the serious intellectual work of later years. Just as the in- fant's plump unformed hand, by its seemingly idle and purposeless manipulations of whatever comes within reach, is acquiring strength and precision of movement for the labors of after-life, so the imagination develops into a strong and flexible organ by what are apt to seem to older people foolish indulgences. The parent should not be too anxious to check even the vagaries of childish im- agination. To a large extent these may be left to correct themselves. So long as these sportive flights of fancy direct themselves to what is wonderful, beautiful, or merely grotesque, and steer clear of the sensational and horrible, they are not likely to do much mischief either to the intellect or to the character. But the parent should not leave the child's fancy alto- gether to follow its own wayward will, but should seek to aid in developing and guiding it into healthy channels of activity by supplying appropriate objects. The habitual narration of stories, description of places, and so on, is an essential ingredient in the early education of the home. The child that has been well drilled there in following stories and descriptions, will, other things being equal, be the better learner at school. Such exercises train the young mind in fixing the attention and in taming the fancy, compelling it to move within prescribed lines laid down by another. The early nurture of imagination by means of good wholesome food has had much to do with determining the degree of imaginative power, and, 190 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. through this, of the range of intellectual activity ulti- mately reached. 24 In order to train the imagination wisely, we must at- tend to the natural laws of its operation. Thus it is ob- vious that the first constructive tasks imposed should be simple, and so adapted to the limited experiences of the child. The first condition of success in every attempt to call the child's imagination into play is to make sure that he has the necessary stock of experiences out of which the picture has to be constructed. Such experiences are needed not only to supply the elements or details of the mental picture, but also to provide analogies which may serve as a rough model for the composition. Thus, to take a simple example, a child will be aided to form a mental picture of a snow mountain not only by recalling the mountain form and the white snow, but also by re- ferring to some familiar object which shall serve as a pro- totype of the whole, say a loaf of sugar. The second main condition of success is to awaken a lively interest or motive. The materials provided for constructive activity, the scene described, or the action narrated, must be interesting and attractive to the child, as well as within his grasp. The child's feelings must be ap- pealed to by the pretty, amusing, pathetic, or noble aspect of the theme. It is only when the feelings are thus gently stirred that the imagination is lively. At the same time the emotional effect must not be allowed to become strong and violent, so as to interfere with distinctness of imagination and a full impartial grasp of all the elements of the description. This shows that in training the im- agination we need to study the emotional side of child- nature and its many individual varieties. Once more, the imagination, like every other faculty, must be called into play gradually. Not only should the conservative operation be adapted to the growing ex- perience of the child, and the natural order of unfolding CULTIVATING THE IMAGINATION. 191 of his feelings, it must be suited to the degree of imagina- tive power already attained. Thus descriptions and nar- rations should increase in length and intricacy by gradual steps. The first exercises of the imagination should be by means of short, telling narrations of interesting incidents in animal and child life. Such stories deal in experiences which are thoroughly intelligible and interesting to the child. The best of the traditional stories, as that of Cinderella, are well fitted by their simplicity as well as by their romantic and adventurous character to please and engross the imagination. And fables in which the moral element is not made too prominent and depressing, and in which the child's characteristic feelings, e. g., his love of fun, are allowed a certain scope, will commonly be reckoned among his favorites. As the feeling of curiosity unfolds, and the imaginative faculty gains strength by ex- ercise, more elaborate and less exciting stories may be introduced. It is to be feared that a good deal of so-called chil- dren's literature offends by inattention to these obvious conditions of success. It is not needful to speak of the " nightmare " and strongly sensational stories which injure children's minds by disposing them to dwell in a morbid way on images of the terrible, and vitiate the taste by be- getting a craving for sensational excitement. For, though examples of such pernicious child's literature might be found in classical collections of fairy-tales, the judicious parent may be trusted to guard his children from injury in this direction. Nor need one refer to the patently didactic and "goody" stories which commonly weary children when they succeed in engaging any measure of their at- tention at all. For these seem to be rapidly growing old- fashioned. It is more important to call attention to a be- setting fault in recent children's literature, viz., that of describing experiences, situations, impressions and feel- ings quite out of their mental reach. The writers of chil- 192 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. dren's books but too rarely have the art of looking at the world with the eyes of a young person. It is no doubt true that children's literature has of late greatly improved in point of naturalness, brightness, picturesqueness, and other good qualities ; still, this vice of writing over chil- dren's heads is a serious drawback to its educational value. Exercise of the Imagination in Teaching. The main proposition emphasized in this chapter is that the imagination is necessarily exercised in the work of in- structing the child in the knowledge of the realities which surround him. This is apparent in the beginnings of teaching. The intelligent parent who talks to the child about the wonders of nature, the formation of clouds and rain, the movements of the earth and the stars, the flow of sap in the plant, and the ways of animals, is continually calling forth the learner's imaginative powers. And all verbal instruction in the facts of human experience, the lives of the great and good, the habits of different races of mankind, the history of the nations, and so forth, opens up another wide and attractive arena for the exercise of the imagination. There is a special value in thus training the imagination in connection with the process of acquir- ing real knowledge. The necessity of grasping and under- standing realities disciplines the fleet-winged faculty to a certain sobriety of movement, and thus fits it to be the useful ally of the understanding. As we have seen, the imagination is called into activity in all branches of teaching. In some branches, as history and geography, it is more especially exercised. Here, then, a knowledge of the laws of operation of the faculty will be a matter of great importance to the teacher. Here, too, the first thing to attend to is to take care to call up the needed past impressions in a vivid and distinct form. This end will be secured to some extent by a wise selection of words. These must, so far as possible, be IMAGINATION IN TEACHING. '93 simple and homely, so that they may call up the images at once. More than this, the teacher should remind the child of facts in his experience, the recollection of which may contribute to the production of a distinct idea of the place, scene, or event. Thus, in describing an historical event, the several features must be made clear by parallel facts in the child's small world, and so the whole scene made distinct by the help of analogies. This requires a good deal of knowledge of child-life and much skill in searching out analogies. In thus utilizing the child's own experiences, however, the teacher must be careful to help the child to distinguish the new from the old, and not to import into the new image the accidental and irrelevant accessories of his experience. Once more, the teacher must seek to follow the natural order in exercising the imagination. He should remember that all knowledge proceeds from the vague and indefinite to the definite and exact, that clear ideas are formed by a gradual process of development. There is first a dim out- line, a blurred scheme, and this gradually grows distinct by additions of detailed features. Thus the description of a country best begins with a rough outline of its con- tour, its surroundings, and its larger features, as mountain- chains, etc. Similarly, historical narrative, say that of a particular reign in English history, best sets out with a recital of the leading events, which may serve as a rough scheme or outline of the whole, into which the details may be fitted. There is an orderly procedure in description which is needed by the imagination as much as by the understanding. A sudden plunge into details, and a dis- connected enumeration of these, are fatal to an orderly construction. Again, in successively unfolding the different parts of such a complex subject as the history or geography of a country, that order should be followed which is most favorable to imaginative activity. Thus the progress 13 I 9 4 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. should be, so far as possible, from the known to the unknown. In geography, for example, the teacher, after a brief elementary account of the earth, starts with the child's own country and locality, and so passes gradually to more distant parts of the globe, where the natural features and the human life are strange, and therefore difficult to realize. Also, what is relatively simple and interesting should precede more complex and difficult matter. Thus, the first instruction in history should be quasi-biographical and a natural development of the early story, and the larger and more intricate study of the his- tory of peoples, of the growth of constitutions, and so forth, reserved for a later stage of development.* Simi- larly, in teaching geography, the human interest should at first be made prominent by connecting description with a narration of some real or imaginary journey, with its ad- ventures, dangers, etc. Finally, in all such teaching by way of verbal descrip- tion, the imagination of the learner should be assisted by a judicious use of actual sense-impressions. The im- portant aid rendered to the child's imagination by globes and models, and, in a less degree, by maps of countries, is recognized in modern systems of instruction. The ad- vantage derivable from these is due to the circumstance that the products of imagination are at best only a rough approximation, in respect of fullness and distinctness, to the actual perception of a thing. Moreover, description of places by means of language always has to encounter the obstacle that it can only pre c ent the parts of a locality or scene in succession, naming first one and then another ; svhereas the imagination requires to bring these together in one simultaneous view. The model or map lifts the mind above this difficulty by presenting the parts together * In Mr. Fitch's valuable chapters on the teaching of geography and h'istory (" Lectures on Teaching," chaps, xii and xiii) the reader may see a good illustration of the proper way to deal with the imaginative faculty. EXERCISE OF INVENTION. 19- side by side as we should actually see the localities them- selves. Much the same applies to the aid rendered to the historical imagination by pictures and coins, and, better still, a visit to ancient buildings, like the Tower of Lon- don, museums of historical antiquities, etc. While the teaching of these comparatively concrete subjects always involves the activity of the imagination in some measure, the teacher of them may appeal to the faculty in very various degrees. There is a picturesque way of describing a country, and of narrating an incident in history, in which the chief aim of the instructor is to convey a lively picture of some scene or event. Here the wonderful, stirring, or touching aspects of the scene or event are emphasized ; and, further, much attention is given to detail, so that the mind may have a full pictorial representation of the concrete whole. On the other hand, the special object of the lesson may be to exercise the learner in grasping and understanding the facts presented in their relation one to another, and to other facts. This would demand a more rigorous control of the feelings, a less full and vivid imagination of the details, and a certain simplification, so that the more essential features and the determining conditions may be readily seized by the learner's mind. To know just how far to excite the pictorial imagination of the learner, according to the nature of the subject and the special objects of the lesson, is one of the secrets of a skilled instructor. Exercise of Invention. As was pointed out above, the constructive process enters into many other mental operations besides those which we are accustomed to call the work of imagination. In finding out anything, in the practical application of knowledge in useful contrivance, and in artistic invention, the child is exercising his con- structive powers. And one important part of education concerns itself with the development of this faculty of in- ventiveness. 196 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. Taken in this wide sense, the faculty of invention, or ingenuity in device, may be exercised in every department of life and study. Thus, in making known to the child the facts of nature and life, he should be invited to use his powers of bringing together what he already knows, in order to find out for himself, so far as he is able, what he desires to know. One important reason for not telling a child everything is that, by compelling him to find out for himself, the educator exercises and strengthens the dis- covery or inventive faculty. The more intellectual class of games, too, may be turned to good account as an exer- cise of inventiveness. The task of tracking the mental path through a labyrinth of suggestions to some particular idea of a person or thing by help of successive clews (as in the old-fashioned game of " How ? When ? and Where ? ") is a valuable exercise of the child's mind in those very processes of searching out the new by the light of the old, by which great scientific discoveries are made. Mechanical contrivance and practical inventiveness in general are further developed to a certain extent by the spontaneous and playful activity of children. The edu- cator must be careful not to interfere too much with the perfectly free and sportive character of the activity, for by so doing he would rob it of much of its charm and of its value. The full exercise of invention presupposes that the child is free to choose his own designs and plans. The domain of play must be respected, and only a general supervision of these self-prompted activities maintained. In the choice of toys it is important to select those which offer the greatest scope for contrivance. A toy is not something to look at and observe merely, but it must admit of being played with or done something with ; and the more possibilities of various constructive activity a toy offers, the better it is as a toy. Jean Paul Richter says that the best toy of all is a heap of sand, along with which a box of bricks may be taken. As the child grows EXERCISE OF INVENTION. 197 older his mechanical constructiveness should be called forth by useful occupations, such as gardening, carpenter- ing, and so forth.* The faculty of inventiveness should be encouraged to exercise itself in other directions too. The artistic and dramatic impulses should be utilized as motives to inven- tion. A valuable part of the intellectual culture of the home is the directing of children's activities into such useful and refining exercises as planning out the garden- plot, adorning the room, inventing little dramatic specta- cles, and so forth. A game like acting charades is an ex- cellent means of calling into play the children's readiness and fertility in invention, that most useful capability of laying under contribution the store of acquisitions so as to arrive at some new result or produce some new effect. The training of manual and artistic constructiveness is one of the chief objects aimed at in the Kindergarten exercises already spoken of. It must, however, be re- membered that the directly controlled activity of the Kindergarten does not afford quite the same scope for development of individual inventiveness as play properly so called. Here all have to construct according to a definite external model. Such exercises serve the useful purpose of training the hand in dexterity, in combining movements, and developing the taste by presenting good models. In addition to this good result, ingenuity is called forth in a measure in discovering the proper way to reproduce the pattern. Not only so, all such imitative work may be made a means of ultimately developing the in- ventive faculty in the production of original design. The models supplied by the teacher give the child a standard by the aid of which he is the better fitted to strike out new plans. And this effect of the manual exercises of the * The training of mechanical ingenuity by various manual employ- ments is well illustrated by Miss Edgeworth. (" Practical Education," chap, i, p. 33, and following.) 198 CONSTRUCTIVE IMAGINATION. school should be secured by the co-operation of the parent at home in encouraging the child to turn his attainments to fresh uses. APPENDIX. The characteristics of children's imagination are described by Perez, " First Three Years," chap, ix, and " L'Enfant de trois a sept ans," chaps, iii and iv. Cf. Pfisterer, " Prcdagogische Psychologic," sec. 14. The educational importance and the culture of the imagination are dealt with very fully by Isaac Taylor, " Home Education," chaps, ix and x (" Culture of the Conceplive Faculty "). Cf. Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Education," chaps, xxi and xxii ; Mdme. Decker, " L'Edu- cation," livre iii, chap, v, and livre vi, chaps, viii and ix ; Beneke, op. fit., sects. 23 and 24 ; Waitz, op. cit., sec. 10 (" Vom Spiele") ; Rosen- kranz, " Psed. as System," p. 42, etc. In connection with the training of the imagination, the student would do well to study the principles of the art of desciiption as set forth in Prof. Bain's " English Composition and Rhetoric." CHAPTER XII. ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. Apprehension and Comprehension. The intel- lectual operations hitherto considered have had to do with individual things. To perceive, remember, and imagine have reference to some particular object, as the river Thames, or a particular occurrence, as the opening of the new law-courts. But we may reflect and reason about rivers or ceremonies in general. When we do so we are said to think. In thinking we are concerned not with sin- gle objects with all their individual peculiarities, e. g., this oak-tree, with its particular size, twisted shape, etc., but with certain qualities of these objects common to these and many others, e. g., the general characters of oaks or of trees. In other words, when we think our minds are occupied about the qualities of things, their relations one to another, and the general classes into which they natu- rally fall. Thinking is closely related to understanding, and in- deed the two words are often used to mark off the same region of intellectual operation. When we view an object as a concrete whole, we apprehend it ; when, however, we regard it under some aspect common to it and other things, we comprehend it. Thus the child apprehends this particular building, that is to say as an individual thing distinct from surrounding things, having a particular shape, size, etc. ; he comprehends it when he recognizes it as one 200 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. of a class of things, as buildings or products of human labor. To understand things is thus to assimilate them to, or to class them with, other things. Stages of Thinking. It is common to distinguish three stages of thinking. First of all, there is the forma- tion of general ideas, general notions, or concepts, which may be said to constitute the elements of thought, such as " material body," " weight." This is called conception. Next to this comes the combining of two concepts in the form of a statement or proposition, as when we say "material bodies have weight." This is termed an act of judging. Lastly, we have the operation by which the mind passes from certain judgments (or statements) to certain other judgments, as when from the assertions "material substances have weight," " gases are material substances," we proceed to the further assertion " gases have weight." This process is described as reasoning, or drawing an in- ference or conclusion. The General Notion or Concept. A general idea or concept is the idea in our minds answering to a general name, as soldier, man, animal. When we use these terms we do not form complete pictures of individuals with their several peculiarities. Thus the term soldier does not call up the full impression of some one individual that we hap- pen to know, with his proper height, style of uniform, etc. Still less when we use the name animal are we distinctly imagining some particular individual, as our dog Carlo or the elephant Jumbo. The general idea or notion is thus not a pictorial representation of a concrete thing, but a general abstract representation of those qualities which are common to a number of things. At the same time, it is obvious that there is a close connection between a concept and the corresponding image. If, for example, we had never seen or heard a description of individual soldiers, we could not form the general idea, or think of the class, soldier. More than HOW CONCEPTS ARE FORMED. 20 1 this, if we could not at the moment of using a general name recall particular examples with some degree of distinctness, the name would be devoid of meaning for us. In thinking of any general class, as a plant, our minds are represent- ing individuals, only in a comprehensive and abstract way. That is to say, we have the power of putting out of sight for the moment their individual peculiarities, and of fixing the attention on their common or general qualities. Thus, in thinking of " tree," we indistinctly recall the elm, oak, and so on ; but what we specially bring into view is the common features of trees, arrangement of branches on a trunk, and leaves on the branches, etc. How Concepts are formed. From this slight ac- count of the concept, we may see that it is fashioned out of percepts and images. It is the result of a process of elaboration carried out on the impressions supplied by concrete individual things. In the case of the less general or abstract notions, such as gold, dog, oak-tree, this growth of general ideas is a comparatively passive process of assimilating the like to the like. A child forms an idea of horse, house, and so on, with very little mental effort. In the case of the more abstract notions, however, as metal, animal, or plant, there is involved a special activity of mind. It brings into ex- ercise what is commonly called the faculty of abstraction. Hence the process of conception in this higher form is one of the later intellectual operations. This operation of elaborating concrete impressions into concepts is commonly said to fall into three stages : (i) comparison, or comparing individuals one with an- other; (2) abstraction, or withdrawing the mind from in- dividual differences and fixing it on common qualities ; and (3) generalization, or the formation of the idea of a general class on the ground of these common qualities. (A) Comparison. By an act of comparison is meant the voluntary direction of attention to two or more objects 202 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. at the same moment, or in immediate succession, with a view to discover their differences or their agreements. The objects may be both present together, and placed in juxtaposition, as when a teacher compares the handwriting of a child with the copy ; or, as often happens, may be (either wholly or in part) represented, as when we recall a person's face in order to compare it with another which we are now observing. As we saw above, a child in perceiving an object dis- criminates and assimilates. Thus, in recognizing a figure, as that of his father, he marks off the object in respect of height, etc., from other objects. In like manner, when he recognizes an object, as an orange, he assimilates it to other and previously seen objects. Yet here the differ- ences and similarities are only implicitly seized, and not rendered explicit. The child does not distinctly recall other figures from which that of his father differs, nor does he distinctly recall other oranges which the present one resembles. The explicit setting forth of differences and similarities takes place by means of comparison. In this we place the objects differing or agreeing in mental juxtaposition, so as to distinctly view them as related by way of similarity or dissimilarity. This act of comparison marks a certain development of intellectual power. An infant can distin- guish and recognize a person, say its mother, but it can not compare one person with another. This act of comparing two objects illustrates the high- est kind of exercise of the power of voluntary concentra- tion. The attention has to pass rapidly from one to the other, and grasp them together, so that their relation of dissimilarity or similarity may become apparent and well- defined. Conditions of Comparison. It is obvious that the act of comparison may be furthered by certain favorable conditions. Thus it is in general a distinct advantage to CONDITIONS OF COMPARISON. 203 have the objects compared actually present to the senses. A child can compare two things, as brass and gold, or a butterfly and a moth, much better when he sees them both at the same time than when he has to recall what he has seen. Where it is necessary to compare something present with something absent, it is desirable to make the image of the latter as distinct as possible. Again, it is very important to bring the objects into juxtaposition. Thus, in trying to see whether, and in what respects, the brass differs from the gold, the child should have them close together before his eyes. Or, if the ob- jects compared are in their nature fleeting, as musical sounds, it is necessary to make them follow one another immediately. Besides these external aids to comparison, there are certain internal conditions. The mind must be calm and free from all preoccupation, and must have the vigor and energy necessary to such a severe effort of attention. We may compare two things either on the side of their simi- larity or on that of their difference. Thus a child may fix his attention on the similarity in size between the moth and the butterfly, or on the difference between them. Which of the two shall specially engage his attention will depend on certain circumstances. Where two things are very unlike, and the resemblance between them relatively small and unimpressive, as the two metals gold and quick- silver, it is proportionately difficult to detect the latter. Again, some persons have a special aptitude and readi- ness in seeing similarities, others in seeing differences. And, lastly, a person may come specially prepared to see either likeness or unlikeness. Thus, if a child is asked how two objects resemble one' another, he naturally looks out for the similarity between them. We may now pass to the special form of comparison necessary to conception. Here, it is evident, the mind is on the lookout for likeness. In extricating the common 204 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. qualities of iron, lead, and other metals, we are seeking to trace out or detect the similarities of things. The conditions here are a number of objects brought together before the mind, either directly by way of the senses, or indirectly by means of the reproductive imagi- nation. The objects being thus present, the mind is called upon to pass its attention from one to the other, with a view to detect the features or qualities which are manifested by all alike. (B) Abstraction. The next stage of the process of conception, which is closely connected with the first, is known as abstraction. This means the withdrawing of the attention from certain things, in order to fix it on others. It is thus a peculiar exercise of the analytic and selective function of attention. Thus a child that fixes its eye specially and exclusively on some feature of an object, as the brightness of a candle-flame, or the size of a. large apple, is in a manner abstracting.* In its higher meaning, however, abstraction always involves the turning away of the mind by an exercise of will from what is at- tracting it at the moment. Thus the diligent student is displaying the power when he resolutely withdraws his thoughts from the sights and sounds of his surroundings and fixes them on some subject of internal reflection. The way in which abstraction enters into conception is in the turning away the attention from the individual differences of the things compared. These are on the surface and striking, and so apt to engage the attention. Thus a child finds it hard to fix his attention on the com- mon aspects of tin, lead, brass, etc., because of their im- pressive differences of brightness and color. Similarly, he finds it difficult to direct his mental eye to the common property in a variety of tools, as a. gimlet, saw, hammer, etc. To resist the attractions of the individual diversities, and resolutely turn the attention in the direction of the * See Perez, " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 189. CONCEPTION AND NAMING. 205 less potent aspect of their similarity, involves a severe effort of will. It is a manifestation of the highest power of voluntarily concentrating the attention in any direction desired. (C) Generalization. The third and final stage of the process of conception is generalization, or the forma- tion of a class of objects. By discovering, for example, that lead, iron, gold, and so on, have certain properties in common, the child mentally places them together in a class, viz., metals. In so doing, the child is generalizing. The class is in its nature general. It is not limited to the several objects examined, which are only particular specimens of the class. Nor in forming the class does the mind bring together and distinctly realize a definite number of things in a collec- tion, as a class of children in a school. In creating a class, metal, the little discoverer need have no knowledge as to the number of things to be included in it. He has simply invented a new compartment, into which he is prepared to put whatever is found to have the necessary qualities. Conception and Naming. This process of forming concepts is completed by the act of naming the things classed. A name is a general sign or symbol which can stand for any one of an indefinite number of things. With- out the aid of such a sign the mind could not arrange things in classes. We could form no idea of man or ani- mal in general if we had not a common name to give the things. The name has a twofold function and use in connec- tion with abstraction and generalization : (i) It helps the mind to clearly mark off, define, and indicate the qualities that have been discovered by means of abstraction. Thus, by calling iron,' lead, etc., " metal," we clearly separate out the common qualities and fix them in the mind for further use. (2) The name is the bond by which the mind ties together the several members of the class. In invent- 206 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. ing the name we are providing ourselves with a general mark by which we can afterward recognize an object as a member of a particular class. This double use of the name corresponds to the two functions which logicians attribute to names. These are known as (a) the denotation or extension of a term, and (b) its connotation or intension. The denotation refers to the things included in the class, and to which the name can be applied, as this, that, and the other piece of iron, lead, brass, etc. The connotation refers to the qualities signified by the name, and the possession of which is neces- sary to admission to the class or compartment, as hard- ness, metallic luster, etc. From this account of the concept we can see what are its chief uses: (i) It helps us to retain our knowledge better, by allowing us to bring together many detached observations. Thus the child who has formed the notion of a class, metal, will thereby have gathered up into one comprehensive whole a number of separate and scattered percepts. (2) It is necessary to the orderly arrangement of our observations. By classing things we reduce their perplexing diversities to unity, and their intricate confusion to order. By the aid of our concepts we refer each object as it presents itself to its proper mental compartment, and so master and comprehend it. (3) It prepares the way for finding out the general laws that govern things, and so for explaining what we see. In order that these ends be realized, it is necessary to connect our general notions with particulars, and our names with the things for which they stand. The concept is a name which stands for certain qualities in real objects, and which we are prepared to apply to any one of these when it presents itself. It ceases to have any meaning and value when the name is divorced from the things which it is intended to represent. Discovering the Meaning of Words. In this ac- MARKING OFF SINGLE QUALITIES. 207 count of the formation of concepts we have supposed that the child brings objects together and compares them on his own account without any guidance from others. And this supposition answers to what actually takes place in certain cases. Children discover resemblances among things, and call them by the same name quite spontane- ously and without any suggestion from others. At the same time, it is obvious that the greater part of their gen- eral ideas are formed (in part at least) by listening to others and noting the way in which they employ words. The process is in this case essentially the same as before. A child finds out the meaning of a word, such as " animal," " gentleman," and so forth, by comparing the different in- stances in which it is used, abstracting from the variable accompaniments, and fixing the attention on the common or essential circumstance. Degrees of Abstraction. Our less abstract con- cepts involve, as we have seen, but little active compari- son. In arriving at the ideas of cat, house, and so on, the child finds no difficulty in turning away from differences. Resemblance here preponderates over difference, and the exercise of the power of abstraction is slight. It is only when he is called on to carry the process of abstraction further, and seek out more widely extended points of simi- larity, that a serious effort is required. Thus, in finding out what is common among dogs, horses, and other ani- mals, houses, churches, and other buildings, the child needs to concentrate his mind closely, and turn away from many and striking differences. Speaking roughly, we may say that the wider the range of objects compared the smaller will be the amount of resemblance among them. And the more dissimilarity thus preponderates over similarity the greater will be the effort of abstraction required. Marking off Single Qualities. A higher exercise of abstraction is seen in the singling out for special con- sideration of some one of the common qualities of objects, 208 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. as when we view a cannon-ball as round, heavy, and so forth. This stage of abstraction is represented by the use of adjectives or qualifying terms, supplemented by what logicians call abstract names, as weight, figure, etc. Here the process of breaking up or analyzing complex percepts is carried to a still further point. By inspecting and com- paring things in this more abstract way our knowledge gains in exactness. Thus the child that can separately attend to the several qualities of water, as its fluidity, transparency, etc., has reduced his knowledge of the sub- stance to a more distinct and precise form. Varieties of Concepts. The general ideas that we form are as various as the things we observe and the quali- ties they exhibit. Material objects present a number of distinct aspects or points of view, each of which may be- come the basis of a generalization. Thus we may bring together chairs, tables, and so on, under the head of furni- ture ; or, looking at their material substance merely, we may class them as wooden things. An orange may be put into as many classes as it has qualities, as a round or spherical body, a colored body, a vegetable product, and so forth. Again, things may be classed in their bearing on our welfare, as useful or beneficial, and according to their beauty or picturesqueness. In addition to material things, there are their several movements, as falling, rolling, hopping, etc.; their actions one on another, such as striking, bruising, breaking ; the changes that bodies undergo, as expansion, contraction, growth, decay ; and, further, the sequences of natural events, such as morning and noon, spring and summer. All these changes and occurrences present certain resem- blances in the midst of differences, and our notions of them are reached by a process of abstraction. Notions which involve Synthesis. Many of our notions involve, in addition to the process of abstraction and analysis just illustrated, a process of putting together IDEAS OF MAGNITUDE AND NUMBER. 209 the results of abstraction in new combinations, or what is known as synthesis. This is illustrated in school studies, as history, in which the learner has to build up out of the lesults of observation and abstraction such notions as "Roman emperor," "feudal system," etc. In many instances this process of synthesis is based on an operation of constructive imagination. By this the mind fashions a concrete image, which gives the peculiar form or structure to the concept. In this way a boy would build up an idea of a Roman consul, of a volcano, and so forth. In other cases, however, this basis of constructive imagination is wanting. Conception passes beyond the limits of distinct visual representation. (A) Ideas of Magnitude and Number. This pro- cess of transcending the limits of imagination is illustrated in the formation of ideas of all objects of great magnitude. Our notion of city, planet, or nation, the distance from the earth to the sun, and so forth, does not correspond to any object that we can distinctly see and picture. Such ideas are the vaguely realized results of a process of add- ing together or multiplying smaller and perceptible magni- tudes, as a house, a ball, a crowd, a small distance. This process is most clearly illustrated in the building up of the ideas of all the larger numbers. In the case of small numbers, as 3, 4, 5, we can distinctly perceive a dif- ference in the aggregate of objects by the senses. A group of 3 objects looks different from one of 4. Hence, the first exercises in counting set out with concrete visible groups. Even in the case of these smaller numbers, however, a process of composition and decomposition (synthesis and analysis) is necessarily involved. A child only fully ap- prehends what 5 things are when he has taken the group apart, and can produce it by adding unit to unit. In the case of the larger numbers, such as 20, 50, 100, etc., this process of adding or summing makes up the whole meaning of the number. The numeral 100 does not correspond to 14 2io ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. a visual percept or an image. It stands as a symbol foi the result of a process of summing or counting performed on units (or small groups of these) which are themselves sensible objects, and so picturable. (B) Notions of Geometry, etc. This synthetic activity is illustrated in a somewhat different way in the formation of the notions of geometry. Our idea of a mathematical line, a circle, and so forth, does not exactly answer to any observable form. No straight line, for in- stance, discoverable in any actual object, perfectly answers to the geometric definition. Even the most carefully drawn line would be found, on closer inspection, to devi- ate to some extent from the required type. It follows that these notions involve more than a simple process of ab- straction, such as suffices, for example, for the detection of the quality color, or weight. They presuppose, in ad- dition to this, a process of idealization. The student of geometry, in thinking about a perfectly straight line, has to frame a conception of an ideal limit, to which actual forms only roughly approximate. The notion thus repre- sents, like that of a large number, the result of a prolonged mental process which surpasses the limits of distinct im- agination. Hence, the peculiar difficulty which many a beginner at the science experiences in attaching any reality and meaning to these forms ; and hence, too, the peculiar poetic charm of the science to many. It is much the same with the notions smooth plane, perfect fluid, rigid body, etc., in physics. In framing these notions the student is called on to modify, perfect, or ideal- ize the results of abstraction, to form ideal notions which transcend the limits of distinct imagination, and yet which are definite enough for the purposes of scientific reason- ing. This constitutes one of the main difficulties of the science. The distinction between notions answering to pictures and those which can not be reduced to images is related MORAL IDEAS: IDEA OF SELF. 2 II to the distinction drawn by logicians between symbolic and intuitive knowledge. We are said to have an intuitive knowledge of the number 3, or of the figure triangle, be- cause we can picture them. But we have only a sym- bolic knowledge of the number 1,000, or of the figure chiliagon (one of a thousand sides). Leibnitz, who empha- sized this difference, adds that intuitive knowledge is more perfect than symbolic. This illustrates the importance of the function of imagination in relation to thought. Moral Ideas : Idea of Self. By a process of ab- straction similar to that whereby the child learns to group external objects according to their resemblances, he comes to a knowledge of the inner and moral world, his own mind and character. His idea of self begins with the perception of his own organism, as the object in which he localizes his various feelings of pleasure and pain. Even this partial idea is slowly acquired. As Prof. Preyer points out, the infant does not at first know his own organism as something related to his feelings of pleasure and pain. When more than a year old his boy bit his own arm just as though it had been a foreign object.* This crude and material form of self-consciousness seems to correspond to the early period of life, in which the child speaks of him- self by his proper name. As the power of abstraction grows, this idea of self be- comes fuller, and includes the representation of internal mental states. The child does not at first reflect or turn his attention inward on his own feelings. He is glad or sorrowful, but as soon as the momentary feeling is over he is apt to forget all about it. His attention is absorbed in outward things. To attend to the facts of the inner life implies an effort, an active withdrawal of the mind from the outer world. This only occurs later on, and first of all in connection with the development of certain feelings, as love of approbation, pride in displaying his prowess, etc. * " Die Seele des Kindes," p. 360. 212 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. The influence of others is an important factor in the growth of this fuller idea of self. More particularly its development would be promoted by the experience of moral discipline and the reception of blame or praise. It is when the child's attention is driven inward, in an act of reflection on his own actions as springing from good or bad motives, that he wakes up to a fuller consciousness of self. The gradual substitution for the proper name of " me," " I," " my," which is observable in the third year, probably marks the date of a more distinct reflection on internal feelings, and consequently of a clearer idea of self as a conscious moral being. A further process of abstraction is implied in arriving at the idea of a permanent self, now the recipient of im- pressions from without, now the subject of feelings of pleasure and pain, hopes and fears, and now the cause of outward actions. The image of the enduring and always present object, the bodily self, undoubtedly contributes an important element to this idea. But this supplies only the more concrete or pictorial part of the representation. The assurance of an enduring mental self, one and the same through all the changes of feeling, involves a certain development of the child's memory, and the power of real- izing that he has had a past and a continuous history. The highest outcome of this process of abstract reflec- tion is the knowledge of self as having definite capabili- ties, intellectual and moral. Such an abstract idea of self presupposes many comparisons of states of mind, feelings, actions, etc. Thus a child builds up his idea of himself as susceptible to pain, as able to understand, to obey, etc., by bringing together many of his past experiences, and seeing what is common to these. 25 Notions of Others. In close connection with this development of self-knowledge there grows up the knowl- edge of other conscious beings. It is probable that the child is instinctively disposed to endow with conscious- CONCEPTION AND DISCRIMINATION. 2I 3 ness any external object which resembles himself in any way, and more particularly in the power of self-movement. But this personification of things is checked by the growth of knowledge and discriminative power. The child learns now to distinguish between inanimate and animate objects, and between the several grades of the latter. When this stage is reached, he is in a position to form more accurate ideas respecting other human beings. The knowledge of self and of others reacts one on the other. The child is only able to think of others, e. g., his mother or brother, as conscious beings, by endowing them with feelings analogous to what he has observed in himself. On the other hand, the observation of others materially aids in the development of a fuller and more accurate knowl- edge of self. Thus, by seeing what another child can do by trying, he learns more of his own powers ; by witness- ing new forms of suffering, he imaginatively realizes more of his own capacity to suffer, and so forth. By comparing different actions of the same person and actions of different persons, the child learns to group them in classes, as kind, wise, good people ; and in this way his ideas of others grow more distinct. By a higher exercise of the power of abstraction he is now able to mentally place each individual of his acquaintance in some definite compartment or category, according to the particu- lar qualities which he displays. Conception and Discrimination. The formation of concepts involves, as its main factor, the function of as- similation in its higher form of detecting resemblances in the midst of differences. At the same time, the other great intellectual function, discrimination, is also exercised in the process. In classing things, the mind always refers more or less explicitly to differences. In forming the con- cept animal, for example, we are not only connecting many unlike things on the ground of their resemblances (animal structure and functions), but are marking these off from 214 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. other things lacking these points of similarity (plants and inanimate objects). When we think of European we are tacitly referring to non-Europeans (Asiatics, etc.). Indeed, we can not constitute a class by the presence of certain marks without at the same time drawing a line about it or limiting it, and so implicitly distinguishing it from other things wanting these marks. In all cases where there are well-marked contraries or opposites, as heavy light, sweet bitter, good bad, and so on, this process of discrimina- tion becomes more explicit. To bring an object under tne class of light bodies is to set it over against the class of heavy ones. Classification. The orderly, systematic review of the agreements and the differences among things leads to what is called classification. To classify things is to view them in such a way that their different degrees of resemblance and difference may be clearly exhibited. This takes place by proceeding through a series of gradations from notions of a low degree of generality to those of a higher degree. Thus, supposing we have the concepts " plow," "spade," and so forth, we may group them under a more general head, " agricultural implements." With these we may take other things, such as carpenters' " tools," " sur- gical instruments," "machines," etc., and bring them under a still more general head, "instruments of labor." Any lower class is called, in relation to the higher class under which it is brought, a species ; and the higher class is called, in relation to the lower, a genus. In each step of this process we are co-ordinating, or placing side by side, certain lower classes or species, marked off from one an- other by particular qualities (e. g., surgical and agricult- ural use), and subordinating them under a larger class or genus. In this upward movement of thought from smaller to larger classes, or species to genera, we continually discard differences (e. g., surgical, agricultural use) and bring into CLASSIFICATION. 215 view a wider similarity (e. g., quality of being an aid to labor of some sort). But we may set out with a large class, and by a downward movement break it up into successively smaller classes. For instance, given the class plane figure, we may break it up into rectilinear and cur- vilinear ; each of these classes, again, may be further broken up into sub-varieties. Thus the rectilinear figures may be separated into three-sided figures, four-sided, and so on. This downward movement from the general to the particular is known as division. It proceeds not by a gradual elimination of differences, but by a gradual ad- dition of them by a process of qualification, or what is called by logicians " determination." Thus the notion figure is further determined by the addition of the qualifi- cation rectilinear ; this again by the addition of three- sided, and so on. In this way the differences among things, as well as their resemblances, are clearly brought into view. 26 The most elaborate examples of this orderly arrange- ment of things is seen in the classifications of natural his- tory, mineralogy, zoology, and botany. But any general notion may thus be connected with other cognate or allied notions, and so the germ of a classification obtained. In this way we bring together the classes house, church, etc., under the genus building ; or, to illustrate the reverse process, we divide the class book into sub-classes accord- ing to its purpose (amusing, instructive) or size (octavo, etc.). Even the notions corresponding to abstract names admit of this orderly treatment. For example, we can classify the several sorts of color, movement, human action, virtue, and so forth. By thus arranging things in a systematic way, and so bringing into light their simi- larities a.nd their differences, we prepare the way for a systematic inquiry into their unknown properties and the laws that govern them. CHAPTER XIII. ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION (continued}. IN the preceding chapter we examined into the nature of the process of abstraction and its results in what is known as the concept. In the present chapter we shall consider the natural defects of our notions, and the best way to correct them. Imperfection and Perfection of Notions. Our every-day notions are apt to be defective in a number of ways. It is easier for the mind to become indistinct in its notions than in its percepts or its images. This special liability of concepts to grow indistinct is connected with the very nature of the conceptual process, and with the fact that its results are embodied in language. It is possible to use words for every-day purposes with only a very rough notion of their purport. Many of the opera- tions of reasoning can be carried on with only a moment- ary glance at the meaning of the terms employed. Hence the wide opening for vague concepts. Distinctness of Concepts. By a distinct, clear, or well-defined concept is meant one in which the several features or characters of the objects thought about are distinctly represented. Thus a boy has a distinct idea of coal when he clearly distinguishes and grasps together as a whole its several qualities, as its black color, its frangi- bility, combustibility, etc. On the other hand, an idea is indistinct, hazy, or ill-defined when the constituent quali- ties of the objects are not thus distinctly represented. INDISTINCTNESS OF CONCEPTS. 217 Closely connected with the distinctness of a concept, as just defined, is its distinctness with respect to other con- cepts. By this is meant that the idea is carefully distin- guished from other and partially similar concepts. Thus we have a distinct idea of a nut when we distinguish the group of characters constituting it from those of an ordi- nary fruit ; of a planet, when we distinguish the characters from those of a fixed star, etc. On the other hand, a con- cept is indistinct when it is apt to be confused with a kin- dred concept. Thus a boy studying history has confused notions when he does not discriminate an aggressive from a -defensive war, a limited from an absolute monarchy, and so forth. We can best test the distinctness of a concept by our facility in applying the name or recognizing a member of the class when it presents itself. In general all want of distinctness, whether of the first or second kind, must tend to interfere with a prompt and accurate naming of objects. Want of distinctness in the connotation leads to want of certainty with respect to the denotation. At the same time, we are often able to name things readily when our concepts are far from being perfectly distinct. Thus an ordinary child will at once recognize a fruit, and yet be unable perhaps to say what the constituent fruit-marks are. This suggests that a concept may be distinct in the second sense without being so in the same degree in the first. The cluster of marks is represented with sufficient distinctness for keeping the name apart from other names, and for ap- plying it roughly to the objects we meet with ; but there is no careful analysis of these characters. Causes of Indistinctness of Concepts. The im- perfections just spoken of may arise from either of the causes stated above. Many notions are indistinct from the first because the percepts and images are so, or be- cause the process of abstraction has never been carried far enough to bring into distinct relief the common char- 21 8 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. acters of a class of things. This last remark applies with special force to the notions of the young and uneducated, who can in most cases distinguish the more familiar classes of objects, such as oak, tree, church, and so on, but who have not carefully reflected on the contents of their notions. But, again, our notions are apt to become indistinct (in both senses) from the lapse of time and the imperfections of memory. The concept grows out of images of real things, and if our images fade from memory our notions necessarily grow hazy. A boy that is always forgetting the concrete illustrations of class-names, as water-shed, Roman consul, transitive verb, and so on, is sure to lapse into vague ideas of these classes. Finally, there are certain features of language which promote indistinctness, especially in early life. The fact that the child is hearing a highly developed language spoken about him, which embodies the finer distinctions of mature intelligence, must tend to bewilder his mind at first. He finds it hard to distinguish between closely related and overlapping words, " healthy " and " strong," "sensible " and "clever," and so forth. And then there is a more serious source of perplexity of an opposite kind, viz., that arising from the imperfections of language, and more particularly the ambiguities of words. Such ambi- guities, by hiding a variety of meanings under one word (e. g., pretty, as nice-looking and as moderately), tend to baffle the child in trying to discriminate one idea from another. This mischief is of course greater where words are used loosely by others, A mother, for example, that does not distinguish between mere inadvertence and cul- pable carelessness, and the teacher that is apt in his im- patience to call mere ignorance and intellectual slovenli- ness by the same name, adds seriously to the difficulties of the young student of language. Accuracy of Concepts. We have to distinguish INACCURACY OF CONCEPTION. 219 between the mere indistinctness of a concept and its posi- tive inaccuracy. A distinct notion depends on our clearly representing the marks we take up into our notion : an accurate notion depends on our taking up the right ele- ments, i. e., the common characters of the class, and no others. Or, to express the same thing in different lan- guage, an accurate concept is such that the name in which it is embodied will cover all the things commonly denoted by that name, and no others. Inaccuracy of conception, like mere indistinctness, may arise either through an imperfect performance of the initial processes of comparison and abstraction, including the discrimination of one group of things from another, or through a subsequent process of decay or disintegration of the concept. (A) Inaccurate Notions depending on Imperfect Abstraction. To begin with, then, a notion may be inaccurate because the process of abstraction or notion- formation is incomplete. The first notions of all of us are loose and inexact, answering to a rough and hasty process of inspecting the objects. Owing to these imperfections, the notions are inaccurate ; that is to say, the range of the name is not co-extensive with that of the things commonly or properly denoted by it. In this way our class, or the denotation of our name, becomes too narrow or too wide. In the first place, a notion may be formed on too nar- row an observation of things, the consequence of which is that accidental features not shared in by all members of the class are taken up into the meaning of the word as a part of its essential import. For example, a child that has only seen red roses is apt to regard redness as a part of the meaning of rose ; and one whose knowledge of metals includes only the more familiar examples, iron, etc., nat- urally includes hardness and solidity in his idea of the class, which would thus exclude quicksilver. We are all apt to take up into our notions the accidental associations 220 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. of our individual experience, the place and time in which we live. Thus man to an English child includes the notion of a white skin, government that of a sovereign, and so on. Such notions are too narrow. In the second place, a notion may be inaccurate by giving the class too wide an extent. If the mind's obser- vation of things is superficial and hasty, only a part of the common traits or marks, viz., those which are conspicuous and impressive, are embodied in the name. The notions of children and of the uneducated are apt to be too wide. They pick up a part, but only a part, of the significance of the words they hear employed. Thus they observe among different creatures called " fish " the conspicuous cir- cumstance that they live in the water ; and so they make this the whole meaning of the word, and are ready to call a porpoise or a seal a fish. In a similar way a child will call all meals "tea," overlooking the fact that "tea" is a more special name than " meal," pointing to a particular hour of the day. (B) Inaccurate Notions depending on Loss of Elements. While notions may thus be inaccurate at the outset, owing to defective observation, they tend still fur- ther to become so by the lapse of time and the gradual obliteration of some of their elements. Every successive loss of such elements involves a growing divergence be- tween the name and the things denoted. In other words, the concept grows too wide. As names are emptied of their full significance they thus become too inclusive. Thus a child that forgets that " unkind " implies an inten- tion to hurt another will call its playmates or its mother unkind where there has been no such intention. The converse error, too, of allowing accidental accompaniments to insinuate themselves into, and blend with, the notion, is not uncommon. Thus, as Waitz observes, a boy, after having been taught that the size of an angle is independ- ent of the length of the lines that form or inclose it, easily ON REVISING OUR NOTIONS. 2 2i lapses into the error of embodying this accidental element in his notion of angular magnitude. It is only necessary to remind the reader that indis- tinctness of conception is closely related, and commonly leads on, to inaccuracy. Where our ideas of things are hazy, there is a peculiar danger of dropping essential ele- ments and of taking up accidental ones, and so of making our classes too wide or too narrow. Not only so, such indistinctness is highly favorable to confusing ideas one with another and substituting for the proper meaning of a term that of some kindred term. On Revising our Notions. It follows from the above that the formation of a perfect concept includes not one process of comparison and abstraction only, but a suc- cession of such processes, by the aid of which the first rough draughts of our ideas are improved, and also the tendencies in words to lose their significance counteracted. Defective conception at the outset can only be made good by more searching inspection of the things submitted to examination, and also by a wider and more varied observa- tion of objects in their similarities and dissimilarities. Not only so, even when the concepts have been prop- erly formed, they can only be kept distinct, and conse- quently accurate, by going back again and again to the concrete objects out of which they have in a manner been extracted. Only when we do this shall we avoid the error of taking empty names for realities, and keep our repre- sentations fresh and vivid. If the educator wants to avoid that divorce of words from things against which Comenius protested, he must continually revivify the notions of his pupils by reverting to concrete illustrations. Relation of Conception to Imagination. The above remarks help to bring out still more distinctly the re- lation between imagination and thought. As we have seen, a notion differs from an image in that it contains a repre- sentation of common features only, and not of individual 222 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. peculiarities. When words tend strongly to call up images of particular concrete objects, the processes of thought are obstructed. The highly imaginative mind which instantly reduces a word to some concrete instance is heavily handi- capped in following out trains of abstract thought.* The many interesting accompaniments of the individual things interfere with the grasping of their general aspects. At the same time, notions are formed out of images. Thinking is thus based on imagination (both reproductive and constructive). The meaning or content of a word is wholly derived from the inspection of concrete things. Hence, a notion, in order to have substance in it and to be well-defined in shape, must be continually supported by images. In order to think clearly, a child must be able to imagine distinctly, to call up as occasion requires indi- vidual members of the class. On Defining Notions. Our notions are rendered distinct and accurate not merely by going back to con- crete facts or examples, but by a number of supplementary processes, which may be grouped under the head of defini- tion. To define a word in the logical sense is to unfold its connotation, to enumerate more or less completely the several characters or attributes which make up its mean- ing. As we have seen, we form many concepts, such as "metal," "man," "civilized country," before we are able to represent distinctly the several attributes included in the connotation of words. It is only when the mind's power of abstraction increases that this higher stage of * This is, of course, generally the case with the young and the un- educated. The narrowness of their experience, and the feebleness of their powers of abstraction, cause words to be pictorial, descriptive of concrete individuals rather than symbolically representative of classes. This tendency is amusingly illustrated by Mr. Galton. Some one began narrating, " I am going to tell you about a boat." A young lady of an imaginative turn, being asked what the word "boat" called up, answered, " A rather large boat, pushing off from the shore, full of ladies and gentlemen." ("Inquiries into Human Faculty," p. no.) DISCRIMINATION OF NOTIONS. 223 analysis becomes possible. When this has been carried out, the mind will be able to retain the essentials of the concept by means of the verbal definition. When, for ex- ample, the child has learned that glass is a transparent sub- stance, composed of certain materials, brittle, easily fused by heat, a bad conductor of heat, and so on, the string of properties stored up by aid of the verbal memory will serve to give distinctness to the concept. A second and subordinate part of this process of defini- tion of names consists in the discrimination of the notion from other notions. The precise meaning of a word is only brought out by setting the notion over against its op- posite or contrast, and by discriminating it from nearly allied notions. Thus, for example, the notion " wise " is elucidated by contrasting it with "foolish," and further by distinguishing it from allied notions, as "learned." Clear thinking implies a habit of distinguishing words and their meanings carefully one from another. Similarly, " rude " should be contrasted with "polite," and "distin- guished " from " uncouth " or " awkward ;" "brave " con- trasted with "cowardly," and "discriminated" from "fool- hardy." Finally, our notions may be defined or rendered more sharp in outline by a reference to a classification of things. Logicians say that the best way to define a class name (especially when the qualities are too numerous, and many of them too imperfectly known, for us to enumerate them completely) is to name the higher class, or " genus," and add the "difference," that is, the leading features which mark off the class from co-ordinate classes. Thus we may define a parallelogram by saying that it is a four-sided fig- ure (higher class), having its opposite sides parallel (dif- ference). Such a definition serves to fix in the mind some of the more important marks of the objects, and to keep the concept distinct from other concepts (e. g., those of other four-sided figures). 224 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. Not only so, the practice of dividing a term, or point- ing out the several smaller classes composing the class, serves to clear up or define our notions. Since a concept is formed by means of an inspection of things, an occa- sional reference to the whole extent of things covered by a name helps to give reality and body to the concept. Thus, in teaching a child the meaning of a term like metal, it is well to connect it in his mind with all the principal or more familiar varieties. In fact, the two processes here touched on, bringing out the connotation (logical " defini- tion ") and exposing the denotation (logical " division "), are mutually complementary. Growth of Conceptual Power. The power by which the mind frames general notions is merely an ex- pansion of powers which show themselves in a rudiment- ary form in the earlier processes of perception. Thus the powers of comparison and of abstraction in its wide sense are developed, in connection with the process of percep- tion itself, in carrying out those detailed operations of examining objects of sense on all sides which are involved in the formation of clear percepts. Again, the power of seizing similarity in the midst of diversity, which is the essential process in building up notions of classes and the qualities of things, manifests itself in a lower form in the first year of life. To recognize the mother's voice, for example, as one and the same through all the changes of loudness and softness and all the variations of pitch, or her figure through all the changes of light, distance, and position, clearly implies a certain rudimentary power of comparing unlike impressions and detecting likeness amid this unlikeness. Early Notions. The gradual development of the power of comparing objects and comprehending them in classes is one of the most interesting phases in the mental history of the individual. By a careful observation of children at the time when they begin to understand and GROWTH OF CONCEPTION. 22$ use words, we may learn much as to the way in which this power spontaneously develops. More particularly, it is in- structive to watch the way in which children about a year or fifteen months old invent names of their own, and spon- taneously extend the words they learn from others to ana- logical cases. As might be expected, the first notions which children form correspond to narrow classes of objects having a number of striking points of resemblances ; and, further, to those varieties of things which have a special interest for the young learners. Thus a child readily connects by one name particular varieties of food, as milk and pudding. In like manner he soon learns to assimilate certain classes of toy, as doll, picture-book, and other objects having well-marked resemblances, as hat and clock, etc. For the same reason, he at once extends terms, as " puss," " papa," which have first been applied to definite individuals, to other individuals, on the ground of numerous and promi- nent similarities. Growth of Conception and of Discrimination. It is to be noted that the child's concepts grow in clear- ness and definiteness with the power of noting differences as well as likenesses.* At first there seems to be no clear discrimination of classes from individuals. The name is used for a number of objects as seen to be alike, but, so far as we can see, without any clear apprehension whether they are the same thing or different things. This is prob- ably true of the extension of the word " papa " to other men besides the father. The concept becomes definite just in proportion as differences are recognized and the images of individual objects, this and that person, this and that dog, and so on, acquire separateness in the mind. This same circumstance explains another fact, namely, that the child * M. Perez says that children of about fifteen months, though eagerly on the lookout for resemblances, are very little so for differ- ences. (" First Three Years of Childhood," p. 195.) 15 226 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. often uses the names of genera (if not too large classes) before those of species. Thus he lumps together animals resembling dogs, as goats, under the name "bow-wow." In like manner he will apply a word like " apple " to fruit generally, or a certain wide group of fruits, as " apple," s; pear," "orange," etc. Similarly, he will understand in a rough way the meaning of the word " flower " before he comprehends the names " daisy " or " rose." Formation of more Abstract Conceptions. A higher step is taken when the child forms classes founded on a single property. The first examples of this higher power of abstraction have to do with aspects of objects of great interest to him. He first displays a considerable power of generalization in grouping together edible things. Mr. Darwin, in his interesting account of the early devel- opment of one of his children, tells us that when just a year old he invented the word "mum " to denote different kinds of food. He then went on to distinguish varieties of food by some qualifying adjunct. Thus sugar was " shu-mum." * Attention to common visual features comes later. A little boy known to the present writer, when in his eighteenth month, extended the word " ball " to bub- bles which he noticed on the surface of a glass of beer. This implied the power of abstracting from color and size and attending to the globular form. As experience widens and the power of abstraction strengthens, less conspicuous and more subtile points of agreement are seized. Children often perplex their elders with their use of words just because the latter can not seize the analogy between things or events which the young mind detects.f By degrees the young mind ad- * See his article, " Biographical Sketch of an Infant," in " Mind," July, 1877 (vol. ii) ; cf. M. Taine's account of a little girl's first gen- eralization of sweet things under the name " cola " (chocolate) in the same volume of " Mind," p. 256. See also M. Taine's work, " On In- telligence," vol. ii, book iv, chap, i, i, par. ii. f For example, a child of two and a half years, seeing a number of PROGRESS OF DISCRIMINATION. 227 vances to the formation of more abstract ideas. One of the earliest of these is that of disappearance, or the state of being absent, commonly expressed by the sign " ta-ta " or some similar expression.* Use of Adjectives. A distinct progress in the child's power of abstraction is seen when objects come to be qualified by the use of adjectives. A child will, from the first stage of speech, pick up and use a few adjectives, such as " hot " and " nice," which answer to simple sensa- tions of very great interest to him. A more difficult achievement is seizing the meaning of a relative term, such as "big." The boy already referred to first employed this word when he was nearly twenty-two months old. See- ing a rook flying over his head, he called out, " Big bird." 27 Among these more abstract conceptions reached in this early period of life, those of number and time deserve a passing notice. Prof. Preyer says that his boy in his twenty-sixth month had not the remotest idea of number. Another boy, already referred to, when twenty-two months old, distinguished one object from a plurality of objects, and this was long before he could distinguish two from three, and so on. He called any number of objects (be- sides one) "two, three, four," according to the formula taught him by his mother. When three and a half years old, the same child still confused number with size. Thus, on seeing beads of three sides, he called the smallest " four," the next " five," and the largest " six." f In like manner this fowls perched in a row on a fence, said, " They are having tea." He had associated the idea of sitting in a row with sitting up at table. * Prof. Preyer ("Die Seele des Kindes," p. 295) says his boy reached this notion of disappearance by the fifteenth month. The boy known to the writer certainly used the sound ta-ta or d b (all gone) for signifying the disappearance as well as the absence of a thing when he was sixteen months old. \ This answers to the fact that many savage races can not count above five, i. e., beyond the point at which differences of number are plainly apparent to the eye. The lower animals seem to have only the 228 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. child marked off all periods of the past under the head of "yesterday," and all periods of the future under the head of " to-morrow " or " by-and-by." A considerable ad- vance in intelligence (including observation, etc.) is nec- essary before children can pass from this rough discrimi- nation of one and many to the recognition of particular numbers, and from a mere discrimination between past and future to the recognition of definite divisions of time, as yesterday, to-morrow, last week, next week. Period of Fuller Development. The power of ab- straction, of analyzing things and discovering their com- mon aspects, qualities and relations, only attains its full development slowly. The denotation of names is learned long before a careful analysis of their connotation is car- ried out. This is seen plainly in the lateness of the com- prehension and use of abstract names. As M. Perez ob- serves, a child of two will perfectly understand the phrase, " This glass is larger than the stopper," but will not under- stand the expression, " The size of that house there." 1 The clear grasp of more abstract notions, including those of mental and moral qualities, belongs to the stage of youth as distinguished from that of childhood. The ear- lier period is pre-eminently that of concrete knowledge. During this time the number of concepts formed is com- paratively small, and these are such as involve the presence of numerous or obvious resemblances. But from about the twelfth year a marked increase in the power of abstrac- tion is commonly observable. In cases where the powers most rudimentary perception of numbers. M. Perez (" The First Three Years of Childhood," p. 185, etc.) tells us that this corresponds to an animal's distinction of number. A cat with only one kitten left it out of a number was miserable ; but when two were left it out of five it was contented. It thus distinguished between one and many. Sir John Lubbock lately remarked that if four eggs are in a nest, one may be taken without troubling the mother ; but if two are removed, she commonly deserts the nest. * Ibid., p. 184. INCREASE OF CONCEPTUAL POWER. 229 of observation and of imagination have been properly cul- tivated we may notice at this stage a strong disposition to view things under their common aspects. And, conform- ably to this, the language employed becomes more general and more abstract. How Progress in Conceptual Power is to be measured. This advance may be measured in different ways. As the power of abstraction grows, particular im- pressions and observations are brought more and more under general heads. Again, it is noticeable that concepts on the same level of generality are framed with greater and greater facility. Less time and effort are needed to form a new notion. Once more, the concepts reached show a higher degree of generality and are more abstract in character. The use of such words as "action," "life," " idea," marks A considerable step onward. The progress of conceptual power is marked further by an increased distinctness in the concepts formed, and a greater facility in denning the terms used, and in distinguishing them from other terms with which they are apt to be confused. Varieties of Conceptual Power. Individuals dif- fer considerably in their power of abstraction. Some minds are much quicker in seeing similarity amid diver- sity, in spying analogies among things, and in bringing to light the common aspects of objects. These differences turn partly on inequalities in power of attention, of draw- ing off the thoughts from what is attractive, and fixing them on what we desire to note. They depend too, in part, on inequalities in the mind's assimilative power. As already remarked, it is probable that some persons have a special bent of mind to the detection of similarity, whereas others lean to the perception of differences. What is called a good power of abstraction shows itself in a general facility in detecting the common qualities and relations of things. At the same time, we commonly find the faculty manifesting itself in a special form in some 230 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. particular domain of percepts and ideas. Thus one boy will show a special power of abstraction in classing natural objects, as minerals and plants ; another, in analyzing physical processes ; another, in constructing the ideal no- tions of mathematics ; and another, in seizing types of human character and classes of motive. These differences, again, clearly depend in part on native peculiarities. Children are not endowed at the outset with the same degree of assimilative power. A child at three years will often display a marked quickness in tracing out similarities in the forms of objects, manners of persons, and so forth. Moreover, the peculiar mental constitution and individual tastes may give a special bent to a definite form of conception. Thus, other things being equal, a boy with an eye closely observant of the forms of objects will show a special readiness in dealing with the concepts of geometry, while another with abundant mus- cular activity and a strong bent toward practical contriv- ance will naturally occupy himself in forming notions about Nature's processes, the notions with which mechan- ics specially deals. At the same time, the degree of power of abstraction attained generally, or in any special direction, turns to a considerable extent on the amount of exercise, training, or culture undergone. Speaking roughly, we may say that the educated youth is most clearly marked off from the uneducated by the possession of a large stock of general notions and a facility in noting and detaching the common aspects of the things about him. And it is no less mani- fest that special devotion to any branch of study, as lan- guages or mathematics, will in average cases result in a marked increase in a special conceptual aptitude in this particular region. Training the Power of Abstraction. The prob- lem of exercising the power of abstraction and generaliza- tion is attended with peculiar difficulties. Children, it is EXERCISE IN CLASSING OBJECTS. 231 commonly said, delight in the concrete, and find abstrac- tion arduous and distasteful. Nevertheless, it is certain that they spontaneously occupy their minds in discovering resemblances among things and in the more simple kinds of generalization. There is, indeed, a real intellectual satisfaction in discovering similarities among things. A young child's face may be seen to brighten up on newly discovering some point of similarity.* And to some ex- tent this pleasure may be utilized in calling forth and de- veloping the child's powers. His lack of interest in gen- eralities is often due to the fact that his mind is not sup- plied with the necessary concrete examples out of which the notions have to be formed. f Exercise in Classing Objects. The training of the conceptual power should begin in connection with sense-observation. As pointed out above, the analysis of objects into their constituent parts and qualities is the way in which the power of abstraction first displays itself And this exercise should be carried on hand in hand with the comparison of one object with another. In this way the first lessons in classifying objects and noting their ab- stract qualities should arise naturally out of the exercises involved in the training of the senses and the observing faculty. The impulses of activity should here be enlisted as far as possible in picking out and sorting objects, so as to lend a more vivid interest to the exercises. The process of generalizing may be still further aided by a judicious selection of particulars for inspection. Here the teacher should remember that it is first impres- * E. g., when a boy (twenty-six months old), watching a dog pant- ing after a run, exclaimed with evident pleasure, " Dat like a puff puff" (locomotive). f " There is nothing the human mind grasps with more delight than generalization or classification, when it has already made an accu- mulation of particulars ; but nothing from which it turns with more repugnance in its previous state of inanition." (Isaac Taylor.) 232 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. sions which last, and that the examples of a class first studied serve to give the impress to the resulting notion. Hence, the examples first brought under the attention of the pupil should be such as most clearly exhibit the char- acteristic qualities of the class, and therefore best serve as the representatives of the same. Thus, to take an obvious example, in building up the class "food," common and familiar varieties, as milk, bread, etc., should be taken rather than exceptional varieties. So, in an elementary lesson on botany, good average specimens of a plant, showing the typical form, should be preferred to unusual or extreme examples. For a similar reason the best speci- men of an island to take at the outset is one like Iceland, surrounded by a large mass of water, rather than one which, like Newfoundland or the Isle of Wight, has the striking accidental accompaniment of being a sort of ap- pendage to a main-land. So, again, the teacher should be careful, in leading up to geometrical concepts, to make his representative instances typical. Thus the first triangle to present to the eye should not be an extreme form, as an isosceles triangle with a very narrow base, but one in which each of the three sides and angles is distinct and apparent. It is well at the outset to reduce as far as possible by practical expedient the attractive force of individual pe- culiarities against which the faculty of abstraction has to work. This is effected, in geometrical teaching, by the device of separating form from its concrete embodiment, and more particularly the interesting concomitant of color. The drawing of a line or circle on the blackboard is an enormous aid to the formation of the abstract ideal notion of a perfect form separate from substance. The same de- vice is available, to some extent, in dealing with the forms of concrete objects. Thus it is a great advantage to present the typical form (or forms) of the mountain by an outline drawing before going on to cjonsider the individual TEACHERS GIVE TOO FEW EXAMPLES. 233 specimens with their several irregularities and peculiarities. So, again, it is a great help, in building up the simpler notions of number, to begin with plain and not highly interesting objects, such as small pebbles, where the diverting influence of color and pleasurable association is reduced to a minimum. Again, a sufficient variety of instances must be sup- plied in every case in order to avoid haste in comparison, and subsequent indistinctness and inaccuracy in concep- tion. As Waitz observes, the learner must be led to see the whole extent of the abstraction, and be able to repro- duce this if it is not to suffer in point of clearness and its applicability to single cases not to be indefinite. Nothing is more fatal than haste in slurring over the preliminary process of laying a broad and firm foundation of abstract conception in observation of concrete examples. No doubt a certain discretion may be observed here. The number of instances necessary to a clear concept is not the same in every case. As Dr. Bain remarks,* a child can be led to see a single quality, such as weight or trans- parency, by means of one or two well-chosen examples, whereas in the case of classes constituted by a number of connected properties, as metal, plant, etc., a large number are needful. Nevertheless, it may be safely maintained that teachers are in all cases apt to supply too few ex- amples. Even the ideas of number can not be properly grasped without a variety of objects. The essential idea of number, as something independent of the particular local arrangement of the objects, can only be made clear by varying this e. g., by presenting three as three dots or marbles in a line, as a triangular arrangement, and so on. Further, a child only fully seizes the abstract idea of three, four, etc., as distinct from three beads, and so forth, by comparing groups of different objects, as beads, trees, etc. The building up of the elementary ideas of number ought * " Education as a Science," chap, vii, p. 197. 234 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. to be carried out in part under the parent's guidance in the observation of a large variety of every-day groups. Once more, throughout this process of training the power of abstraction, the teacher should seek to combine the exercise of discrimination with that of assimilation. Thus he should invite the child to distinguish transparent from opaque bodies, solids from fluids, organic from in- organic bodies, triangles from quadrangles, and so forth ; and the child should be trained in the systematic arrange- ment of classes by the processes of classification and division. In this way his concepts will grow in point of definiteness and orderly arrangement. Finally, this operation of comparing and classing should be supplemented by naming the objects thus grouped to- gether, and pointing out in the form of a definition the more important of the traits they have in common. This part of the process is attended with its own peculiar risks. Looseness in definition is not uncommon among parents and teachers. The rules of definition must be observed, essential and important qualities selected, and a sufficient enumeration of them given to enable the pupil to recog- nize members of the class. The test of a good definition is that it tells us as much as possible about the distinctive nature of the things denoted by the term, and so helps us to identify them. To secure this result it is not necessary to take the pupil at the outset into a survey of all the more obscure properties of things. Thus the term ll metal " can be defined well enough for children's purposes with- out exhaustively setting forth all that the chemist under- stands by it; and, similarly, "plant," without bringing into view all that a botanist understands by the term. In thus using definitions, however, the teacher must be on his guard against a substitution of the verbal formula used in defining terms for a grasp of the real things them- selves and their qualities. The definition must be based on, and grow out of, an actual inspection of things, and COMPARISON OF REAL OBJECTS. 235 the vitality of the notion maintained by continual recur- rence to concrete objects in the way of identifying them, picking them out from a crowd of objects, and so on. The leading motto of modern education, " Things before names," makes it desirable to base all definition on a com- parison of real objects. This truth is clearly recognized in teaching the elements of subjects that are commonly supposed to set out with definitions, as arithmetic, geome- try, and physics. It is vain to plunge a boy into the defi- nitions of Euclid till he has been exercised in building up ideas of the simpler geometrical forms by inspecting actual objects. And it is now coming to be recognized that the teaching of grammatical distinctions must follow the same rule. That is to say, the real meaning of a part of speech, or its function in a sentence, can be best arrived at by in- specting actual instances of spoken or written sentences and comparing a number of such one with another. Explaining Meaning of Words. A special diffi- culty in developing children's powers of abstraction arises in connection with the formation of those notions which can not be reached by a direct inspection of objects. All instruction involves the unfolding of the meaning of general terms. In the most elementary lesson in geogra- phy or history a certain number of such terms are neces- sarily employed. In moral instruction, new and difficult words have from time to time to be introduced and ex- plained. The art of setting forth the meaning of a new term by well-chosen concrete example and in suitable language is one of the distinguishing marks of a good in- structor. Where the child has had experience of concrete examples, as in the case of moral qualities, it is best to appeal directly in the first instance to this. Thus temper- ance, justice, and so forth, should be made real by refer- ence to examples in the child's own life of the quality itself and of its opposite. But this should be supple- mented by a reference to distinguished historical or liter- 236 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. ary examples, as the patriotism of Horatius, the bravery of Grace Darling, etc. And where, as in explaining many of the terms used in history, the instructor can not appeal to examples in the child's experience, the utmost use must be made of the analogies which that experience affords in order to secure the construction of clear typical images, and so of clear notions. 28 Controlling the Child's Use of Words. There is perhaps no part of intellectual training which requires so much careful attention as the control of the child's use of words. On the one hand it is an evil for a child to pick up and use words just because' they are used by his elders and sound grand, before he can attach precise ideas to them. " When," says Madame Necker, " the want of a word has preceded the possession of it, the child can apply it naturally and justly." But as his intelligence and his needs grow, new words should be introduced and ex- plained. As the same writer observes, " the power of ex- pressing our thoughts helps to clear them up." The educator should keep jealous watch over the child's use of words with the view of guarding him against a slovenly application of them. Looseness and vagueness at the outset are apt to induce a slovenly habit of think- ing. This danger can only be averted by exercising the learner in making his notions as clear as possible. He should be well practiced from the first in explaining the words he employs. It is of great importance to see that a child never employs any word without attaching some in- telligible meaning to it. He should be questioned as to his meaning, and prove himself able to give concrete in- stances or examples of the notion, and (where possible) to define his term, roughly at least. The meaning which he attaches to the word may be far from accurate, to begin with. But the educator may be satisfied with a rough ap- proximation to accuracy as long as the meaning is definite and clear to the child's mind. As knowledge widens, the PUPILS ADVANCED TOO RAPIDLY. 237 teacher should take pains to supplement and correct these first crude notions, substituting exact for rough and inex- act definitions. Order of taking up Abstract Studies. The vari- ous subjects of instruction exercise the powers of abstrac- tion in a very unequal degree, and so should be taken up at different times. The strength of faculty involved in the classification of natural objects is so slight that it may, as observed, be commenced in the age of observation in the nursery and Kindergarten. The exercise of abstrac- tion in building up ideas of number belongs to a later period. Few children, I suspect, are ready for this till they reach their fourth or fifth^year. And the same ap- plies to the formation of elementary geometrical ideas. The careful classifications of natural history, as that of plants, presuppose a still higher power of comparing, as- similating, and discriminating things. A yet more decided leap is taken when we pass from these to the higher ab- stractions of physical science, as force, momentum, the more difficult mathematical conceptions, as sine of an angle, and the more abstruse ideas of history and mor- als, as state, representative government, justice, and so forth.* The problem when it is possible and most advanta- geous to take up these more abstract subjects, is one of the most perplexing ones in the art of education. Individuals appear to differ so much in respect of the rapidity of this side of intellectual development that no universal rule can be laid down. One may, however, safely say that, in the past, teachers have been in the habit of taking pupils on to these higher exercises too soon, and it is probable that the pressure put on the modern teacher to get through a number of subjects in a short time leads to an injudi- * One of the most difficult points to determine in the order of abstractness is the proper position of grammar, in its more logical as- pecls. See Bain, " Education as a Science," p. 213. 238 ABSTRACTION AND CONCEPTION. cious, if not wasteful and positively injurious, introduction of abstract studies before the mind is fully prepared for them. APPENDIX. On the early developments of the powers of abstraction the reader should consult M. Perez's volume, " The First Three Years of Child- hood," chaps, x, ii, iii, and iv ; also the work of Prof. Preyer, " Die Seele des Kindes " (3*^ Theil). On the training of the powers of abstraction the reader would do well to read Locke's valuable chapters on the " Imperfection and Abuse of Words," " Essay," book iii, chaps, ix-xi. The difficulties of exercis- ing the powers of abstraction and the best means of alleviating these are well dealt with by Dr. Bain, " Education as a Science," chap, vii, pp. 191-197. The German reader should also consult Beneke, op. cit., 26-38, and Waitz, " Allgemeine Paedagogik," 2 ter Theil, 21, and Pfisterer, " Paedagogische Psychologic," 27. In connection with this subject the teacher should read those chapters in logic which deal with terms and their distinctions, and with the processes of division and definition (e. g., Jevons, " Elementary Lessons in Logic," iii, v, and xii). CHAPTER XIV. JUDGING AND REASONING. THE process of abstraction and conception unfolded in the last chapter prepares the way for the higher develop- ments of thought, viz., judging and reasoning. These operations are so closely connected that it is best to con- sider them together. Nature of Judgment. In common life, to judge is to come to a decision about a question, as the judge does in a court of law. This presupposes a question, room for doubt, and a complicated process of weighing evidence. In mental science the term is used in a more comprehen- sive sense. We judge, whenever we affirm or deny one thing of another, whether the matter is clear and certain, as in saying, "This is a rose," "Two and two make four," or one that admits of doubt, as " This plan is the best." The act of judging is seeing that a thing is so, and being ready to affirm it. The result of the act is called a judgment. Every judgment admits of being expressed in a statement, or what logicians call a proposition. The " subject " of the proposition answers to the thing about which we affirm, and the predicate to that which is affirmed. Thus, in the statement, " Fire warms," the mind is predicating some- thing about fire, the subject, viz., that it has the power of warming. It is evident that to affirm one thing of another in- 240 JUDGING AND REASONING. volves a reference to fact or reality. When a child says that its food is hot, or that a plate is dirty, it thinks of the object as actually in this condition. That is to say, judg- ment implies belief about a fact. Where we do not be- lieve that a thing really has that which is predicated, we do not judge. Again, it is plain that, since in judging we represent a thing as being so or so, our judgment may be correct or incorrect or mistaken, according as the repre- sentation does or does not accord with the real fact. And, finally, for the same reason the proposition which declares the judgment may be either true or false. That which we predicate or pronounce about a thing in our statement is not in every case the same. Some- times we comprehend a thing in a class, or endow it with certain qualities, as in the affirmations, " This is a flint," " This knife is rusty." In others we set forth a relation between things, as in the propositions, " Ireland lies to the west of Great Britain," " Heat softens bodies." One im- portant class of affirmations has to do with the relation of similarity and dissimilarity, as in the judgments, " French resembles Latin," "The opposite sides of a parallelogram are equal," " Any two sides of a triangle are greater than the third." All predication affirms likeness or unlikeness, either explicitly or implicitly. Thus, in placing an object in a class, and less distinctly in attributing to it a certain qual- ity, we are assimilating it to other objects. So again in predicating a relation, as that of cause and effect, between things we are assimilating the particular causal agent as such to other known causes. It may be seen from this short account of judgment that it is co-extensive with the whole area of knowledge. Everything that we know or think that we know involves an element of judgment, and when it becomes distinct knowledge can be explicitly set forth in a proposition. Thus, even in our every-day acts of perception, we implic- CONCEPTS AND JUDGMENTS. 241 itly affirm that what we see is a real tangible thing, that it lies at a particular distance from us, that it presents cer- tain features, and so forth. The simplest act of analysis performed on an object of perception thus involves the rudiment of a judgment. This may not become explicit and express itself in a proposition (audible or inaudible), but the essential activity of judging is present in some measure. Relation of Concept to Judgment. It is evident that a judgment, as connecting two ideas one with another, is a more complex mental product than a concept. Every explicit act of judgment implies a concept already formed. We can not affirm anything of a concrete individual ob- ject, as when we say, " This stone is a fossil," or " This substance is transparent," without already having the idea of fossil or of transparency. On the other hand, while the judgment thus presup- poses the concept, the formation of the concept itself involves a rudimentary form of judging. Thus a child can not form the idea " heavy " without comparing heavy objects and implicitly affirming them to agree in respect of this quality. Every successive stage of generalization is thus carried out by a process of judging things to be similar. And in building up the more complex concepts of classes, as "iron" or "metal," the child is connecting a number of qualities, e. g., weight, hardness, metallic luster. This work of combining qualities goes on gradu- ally as he comes to discover new properties in things, and is carried out by successive acts of judging. That is to say, the result of an act of judgment becomes embodied in a concept. After finding out, for example, that iron is softened by heat, the child will take up this fact into his idea of iron, which thus becomes fuller and richer. We see, then, that the successive developments of our concepts are effected by means of acts of judgment, and every such enlargement of a concept supplies an element for a higher 16 242 JUDGING AND REASONING. form of judgment. Thus the growth of conception and judging go on together and assist one another. Process of Judging. The mental operation which leads up to decision and affimation may be brief and simple, or prolonged and intricate. Speaking generally, however, we may say that judging involves (a) materials for judgment ready to hand, and (&) a process of reflecting on these in order to see to what result they point. (a) The materials which enable us to judge about things are supplied either by our own personal experience or by the words or testimony of others. Experience and authority are thus the two great sources of our facts or data. It is evident that the ability to judge about any matter presupposes careful observation in the past and ready reproduction. I can not decide whether this flower is an orchid, or this stone an onyx, unless I have carefully noted the characters of the class, distinguishing it from other classes. Moreover, unless we observe and recall things in their true connections of time and place, we shall not be in a position to decide about them. Thus, in judging as to the nature of a rock, we need to recall not only the exact appearance of the rocks it resembles, but their position in relation to other strata. The testimony of others, including tradition and au- thority, is a great additional source of materials of judg- ment. A child that trusted exclusively to his own experi- ence, and attached no value to others' statements, would not be in a position to decide about many matters. But authority can easily exercise an excessive influence on judgment. A person who believes a thing just because he is told, when he might find out for himself whether the fact is really so, is not using his materials. (ft) The process of reflection on the materials involves an act of will. To come to a sound decision on a matter of any difficulty implies that the mind rejects what is WHA T JUDGING IMPLIES. 243 irrelevant, steadily keeps in view all the relevant facts, and weighs well the precise bearing of each fact on the case. And all this is a special exercise of the power of voluntarily concentrating the thoughts. The higher this power of voluntary control of the mental contents, the more clear and rapid the decision. To judge brings into full play the functions of assimi- lation and discrimination. In order to judge about any matter, we must be able to detect its affinities to what is already familiar. To say, " This is a flint," implies that the mind classes the object with previously known objects on the ground of certain resemblances. And while assimi- lation is thus a prominent ingredient in judging, discrimi- nation is no less conspicuous. An act of sense-discrimi- nation is the simplest type of judgment. And in classing an object, e. g., a flint, the mind has to carefully distin- guish the essential marks of this from those of other stones with which it might be confounded. It is only when we thus discriminate, and by discriminating assimi- late the new to the old in their essential affinities, that we are able to judge accurately. As a last element in this process of voluntary reflection and control we have the repression of feeling and inclina- tion. When we strongly desire to find a thing so and so, our minds are apt to be biased in this direction. To judge well whether a course is wise or right presupposes that we keep down any inclination or disinclination to this course. The process of judging having been carried out, there remains the expression of the result reached in suitable language. This is by no means an insignificant part of the operation. Persons who do not clearly seize the meaning of terms, and who are lax in their use of language, are apt to express their decisions badly. Clear thinking includes the ability and disposition to give as precise a form as possible to the expression of the thought. 244 JUDGING AND REASONING. Affirmation and Negation. The simplest type of judgment is an affirmation, a positive assertion that a thing is so and so. But all our judgments are not affirma- tive. Logicians distinguish between affirmative and nega- tive judgments and propositions. We may deny as well as affirm, or say that a thing is not, as well as that it is. Negation refers back to a previous affirmation actually made or suggested to the mind. Thus, to say, " It is not going to rain," implies that the corresponding affirmation (" It is going to rain ") has actually been made by some- body, or has somehow been suggested by a question, " Is it going to rain ? " or otherwise. Negation is the putting away or the rejection of an affirmation as untrue or false. Our minds are unable to combine the ideas answering to subject and predicate in the way proposed. It is evident that while affirmation is to a large extent based on a discovery of similarity, negation is based on the detection of difference. If I say, " This is not a real fossil," or "This is not an equilateral triangle," it is be- cause I discriminate the features presented by the object before me from those of the class. Negative judgments are of high importance as setting forth distinctions be- tween things. The mind that is acute in distinguishing facts and ideas naturally resorts to this type. Logicians tell us that every statement which can be made or proposed must be either true or false : e. g., " Either this flower is an orchid or it is not." Hence it follows that, whenever called on to judge about a matter, the mind has to decide between an affirmation and a nega- tion. For example, we have to make up our minds whether this is a real diamond or a spurious one, whether this boy is guilty or is not guilty, that is, innocent. Hence an act of judgment (when its meaning is made explicit) is in every case a choice between two alternatives, and so it resembles the decision of a judge, to which, as already pointed out, the expression " to judge " seems originally to SUSPENSION OF JUDGMENT. 24$ refer. The ability to decide or make up one's mind about any matter thus depends on the mind's power of discrimi- nating (i) what tells for, and what tells against, a proposi- tion ; and (2) which of the considerations (or groups of considerations) has the greater importance. Belief and Doubt. So far it has been assumed that the mind must decide one way or another about any mat- ter presented to it. But this is not the only alternative. We may waver between affirming that this is a real dia- mond and denying it, in which case we are said to suspend our judgment. The mental state thus induced is one of doubt.* Thus I may feel altogether uncertain whether it is going to rain or not, and so can not be said to form any judgment about the matter. This state of mind is op- posed to and excludes the state of belief or definite assur- ance. When we definitely make up our mind about a matter, we say we " are satisfied " that it is so ; and this ex- pression shows that our minds are at rest, and we feel ready to act. When, on the contrary, we doubt, our minds are pulled in two directions, there is a sense of conflict or discord, and action is impossible. Doubt is a more com- plex mental state than belief, involving a grasp of a plural- ity of opposing considerations. Hence it shows itself later in the history of the child. Extent of Judgment. The distinction between af- firmative and negative judgments is called one of quality. In addition to this, logicians recognize a distinction of quantity, or extent. Thus some propositions affirm or deny something of an individual thing, as, " This is a shell." These are called singular propositions. Others, again, predicate something of classes of things. Of these some affirm about a whole class, as, " All shells are built by ani- mals." These are universal propositions. Others, again, * The etymology of the word (dubio, from duo, cf. German zweifeln, from zwei) suggests this oscillation of mind between two conflicting alternatives. 246 JUDGING AND REASONING. assert something about a portion of a class, as, " Some (or many) shells are found in the sea." These are known as particular propositions. It is obvious that these judgments differ greatly in their value. The most important class of judgments are the universal. These are far more difficult to reach than sin- gular or particular judgments. And it is by help of these, as we shall see presently, that we are able to reason clear- ly and securely. Perfection of Judgments: Clearness. Our judg- ments, like our notions, have different perfections or ex- cellences. And according to the degree in which these manifest themselves we say that a person has a high or low power of judgment. Of these perfections the first is clearness. By this is meant that the concepts combined in the judgment be dis- tinct, and that the relations involved be distinctly appre- hended. Want of distinctness in terms leads to indefinite- ness in statement. The judgment, " Vice is debasing," has just as much clearness to a boy's mind as belongs to the ideas "vice" and "debasing." Not only so, a judgment can not be clear unless the mind discerns all that is imme- diately implied in the assertion, the equivalence of the as- sertion to other verbally unlike statements, and its incom- patibility with other contradictory statements. Judgments tend to be indistinct in a number of ways. A common source of indefiniteness is imperfect observa- tion, which may give rise to the vague apprehension of some relation of things, though the exact nature of this relation is not made clear to the mind. Thus if a boy fails to observe how an object was situated relatively to other adjacent objects, or what was the exact order of events in a natural process, he is not in a position to judge about it. Again, defects of memory, by leading to indistinct reproduction, are a great obstacle to clearness of judgment. If the mind fails to recall the exact qualities HINDRANCES TO JUDGMENT. 247 of things, it will be incapable of making definite assertions about them. Again, it is to be noted that, as in the case of conceptSj so in that of judgments, what was once clear may become hazy or indefinite by the separation of words and ideas. When a boy forgets the facts on which a principle is based, he has no longer a clear perception of its reality and truth. In this way truths, at first clearly apprehended, may in time, by mechanical repetition, pass into lifeless formulae, in which there is no clear apprehension of the contents and no vivid belief. Once more, the intrusion of feeling into the intellectual domain inevitably leads to vagueness of judgment. Strong feeling is incompatible with careful observation, fine discrimination of ideas, etc. Judgments passed under the influence of strong emotion are in general character- ized by vagueness and exaggeration. Vagueness of judgment is apt to show itself in a special degree in those beliefs and opinions which we passively adopt from others without seeking to make them our own by personal observation and reflection. A too easy habit of donning the prevailing views of those about us is fatal to the exercise of a clear judgment. Accuracy of Judgment. Again, our judgments, like our notions, may be accurate or inaccurate. An ac- curate judgment is one which corresponds precisely to the realities represented, or which faithfully expresses the re- lations of things. Want of clearness in judging leads on naturally to looseness of judgment. Propositions which are not clearly understood tend to be wmmderstood. The more flagrant forms of inaccuracy arise from inaccu- rate observation and inexact reproduction. Strong feel- ing, too, may bring about a considerable divergence of statement from reality. In addition to these sources of inaccuracy, we have to recognize the imperfections and limitations of each indi- 248 JUDGING AND REASONING. vidual's experience. Our judgments are the outcome of our special type of experience, our individual associations. Accuracy of judgment thus presupposes the interaction of the individual and the social intelligence. The child has continually to rectify his judgments about things by a reference to the standard of common experience. Other Merits of Judgment. Besides clearness and accuracy of judgment there are other excellences arising out of the way in which the mind decides and abides by its decisions. Thus a certain degree of promptness in decision is a condition of a good faculty of judging. A mind drawn hither and thither by conflicting tendencies, and unable to master these, is weak in judgment. Chil- dren are often unable to decide which is pleasantest or best, just because their minds are mastered by the con- tending ideas. On the other hand, there is the opposite fault of impulsiveness or rashness, that is to say, an over- eagerness in coming to a decision, accompanied by an im- patience of the delay involved in reflecting, weighing evidence, etc. This is still more common in children than the other defect. A good faculty of judgment com- bines promptness with deliberateness. Again, a decision is good when it is more than moment- ary, and exhibits a certain degree of stability. It is natural and proper that a decision when arrived at should persist. Such persistence is clearly necessary to fixity of opinion about things, and to the maintenance of consist- ency among our beliefs. To assert one thing to-day and another thing to-morrow shows a feeble and untrained faculty of judgment. Vacillation in opinion, e. g., about the worth of things, the characters of others, and so forth, is common in the unformed mental state of childhood. On the other hand, our judgments are liable to be modi- fied by new influences, whether new facts of experience, new communications from others, or, finally, further pro- cesses of reflection on our data. Hence, if firmness and INDEPENDENCE IN JUDGMENT. 249 consistency of judgment are a merit, obstinacy is clearly a defect. Persons of narrow experience and rigid mental habits show this narrowness. In children this rigidity is rare. Openness of mind is proper to the stage of igno- rance. The first condition of mental growth is that we keep our minds open to new impressions, and the longer we retain something of the child's susceptibility to new impressions, the longer shall we continue to grow. Ex- cellence of judgment is thus seen here, too, to lie between two extremes, viz., instability and obstinacy. Closely related to the quality of stability is that of in- dependence, When there is no strong individual opinion, the mind is at the mercy of the social surroundings of the time. Children of a less robust character are prone to an excessive leaning on the judgments of their parents or companions. On the other hand, a disregard of the be- liefs of others is the mark of an obstinate and intractable intelligence. An opinionated, priggish child, that is above correction by others, is as disagreeable as it is happily rare. Here, again, excellence of judgment lies between two ex- tremes. A mind that judges well about things combines a measure of intellectual independence with a due regard for the claims of others' convictions. Inference and Reasoning. Whenever the mind passes from one fact to another, regarding the first as a sign of the second and accepting it previously to actual observation, it is said to infer. Thus we infer when we notice that the sky is overcast, and predict a shower of rain. The belief in the coming shower is produced by the observation of something which our experience has led us to regard as a mark of this event. It is evident from this example that inference is based on the detection of similarity among facts or experiences. Thus I predict the shower because I identify the present aspect of the sky with previously observed appearances which were actually followed by rain. In recognizing a 250 JUDGING AND REASONING. part of the whole present situation, viz., the lowering sky as similar to the previous one, I recognize the other parts, viz., what followed, the rain. In inference, we identify things or events in their connection with or their relation to other things or events, and so are able to go beyond what we actually see at the moment the known to what we do not see the unknown. Inference may assume a lower or a higher form. In the former, the mind passes at once from particular facts in past experience to other facts, without clearly setting forth the ground or reason of the conclusion. Thus a child infers that this water will wet, this grown-up person be able to tell him something he wants to know, and so forth, without making clear to his mind the general truth that all water wets, or that grown-up people are in general superior in knowledge to children. This way of inferring from particulars to particulars may be called implicit reasoning. It is the primitive and instinctive mode of inference. The lower animals, when inferring as to the proximity of prey, enemies, and so forth, do so in this way. And children, before they acquire the use of gen- eral language and abstract ideas, habitually draw conclu- sions in this informal manner. From this primitive and informal inference we have to distinguish explicit, formal, or logical reasoning. In this process the mind distinctly seizes a general truth and makes this the ground of its conclusion. Thus, when a child grows in intelligence, he will learn and understand that adults are better informed than children ; and, seizing this truth, he will be able to reason that any given individual will show the same char- acteristics. The advantages of this formal procedure are apparent. So long as a child passes directly from one fact to another on the ground of similarity or analogy, his conclusion is more or less precarious. If, for example, a boy infers that a piece of wood will float because other pieces have float- THE ELEMENT OF INFERENCE. 251 ed, he may make a mistake. If, however, he first satisfies himself on the general question whether all sorts of wood float, he will be able to conclude with certainty. These advantages of definiteness and certainty lead to the gradual adoption of the higher and logical form of rea- soning, so far as it can be made use of. All the higher processes of thought, including the whole of what we mean by science, are illustrations of explicit or logical reasoning. Relation of Judging to Reasoning. We may now understand the relation of judging to inferring. In its higher or more developed form reasoning presupposes judging. Formally considered, reasoning is passing from certain judgments to other judgments. Thus, before a boy can explicitly argue that a particular substance will float in water, he must have already judged that all sub- stances of a certain order (e. g., those lighter than water) will do so. While, however, judgment is thus necessary to formal reasoning, there is an element of inference in most, if not all, our processes of judging. Thus, in the simple act of recognizing an object by certain marks, the mind com- monly goes beyond what is actually observed at the mo- ment. If, for instance, I say, " This is a flint," I virtually assert that it is hard, that I can strike sparks out of it, and so forth. And this ingredient of inference becomes much more distinct in certain complicated processes of judging, e. g., as to the genuineness of a coin or a picture.* Finally, it is plain that every process of reasoning ends in a judg- ment as its result or conclusion. In this way our reason- ing processes help us in reaching our judgments ; while, reciprocally, our judgments, when reached, become start- * Our every-day judgments about matters of probability are really inferences from past experience, often of an " instinctive " or semi- conscious character, but capable, to some extent, of being set forth formally according to certain laws or principles of probability. 252 JUDGING AND REASONING. ing-points for new processes of reasoning. The relation is one of mutual dependence, similar to that between con- ception and judging. Inductive and Deductive Reasoning. The full explicit process of reasoning by way of a universal judg- ment is commonly said to fall into two parts or stages. (a) Of these, the first is the operation of reaching a general truth or principle by an examination and comparison of facts : this is known as induction, (b) The second stage is the operation of applying the truth thus reached to some particular case : this is known as deduction. In- duction is an upward movement of thought from particu- lar instances to a general truth, principle, or law ; deduc- tion a downward movement from some general principle to a particular conclusion. (A) Nature of Inductive Reasoning. The pro- cess of inductive reasoning illustrates the fundamental activity that underlies all thinking, viz., the detecting of similarity amid diversity. Let us examine an instance of inductive reasoning. The child observes that his toys, spoons, knives, he himself, and a vast multitude of other objects, when not supported, fall. He gradually compares these facts one with another, and seizes the essential cir- cumstance in them, and the general truth implied in them. He notes that what all these things have in com- mon is that they are material bodies. He then detaches this circumstance, and along with it the incident (falling to the ground) which has invariably accompanied it. That is to say, he judges that all material bodies tend to fall. It is obvious that, in reaching this universal truth, the young investigator is going far beyond the limits of actual observation. For the proposition includes every or any material body wherever met with. It is thus a process of inference, and its result a conclusion. The process is clearly related to that of generalization CHILDISH INDUCTIONS. 253 described above.* In each case we trace out a similarity among a diversity of things. The difference is that, where- as in the case of generalization we assimilate things merely as such, in the case of induction we assimilate things viewed in their connection with some other thing. Moreover, just as there are higher and lower conceptions, so there are higher and lower inductions. The child begins with a number of narrow inductions, e. g., "Flies die," "Birds die," and so forth. He then compares these one with another, and, extracting what is common to them, reaches the higher truth, " All animals die." Later on he couples this with the kindred truth similarly reached, " All plants die," and so arrives at the yet more comprehensive induc- tion, "All living things die." Spontaneous Induction. Although children com- monly draw inferences directly from particulars, they show, when they acquire the power of abstraction and the com- mand of words, a tendency to draw general conclusions from the facts of their experience. An instance or two, especially if they are striking and impressive, may suffice to beget the inference to a general rule. One experience of the burning properties of fire is enough for an induc- tion : " The burnt child dreads the fire." This natural impulse leads in early life to hasty induction. Here is an example : A boy of two and a half was accustomed to dwell on the fact that he would in time grow to be big. One day, as he was using a small stick as a walking stick, his mother told him it was too small ; on which he at once remarked, " Me use it for walking-stick when stick be big- ger." He had implicitly argued that all things tend to grow bigger in time. The inductions of the young and of the uneducated are often of this type. The tendency of all of us is to argue that what is true of ourselves, and of * Indeed, induction is often called generalization, as when we speak of "a hasty generalization," meaning a general statement hastily built up from fact or experience. 254 JUDGING AND REASONING. our own little sphere of observation, is true of mankind and of things generally. Regulated Induction. This natural impulse to build up general conclusions on a narrow and precarious basis becomes corrected by wider experience as well as by edu- cation. Thus the child that argues that all nurseries have a rocking-horse like his own, that all dogs take to the water, and so on, learns, either by his own observations or from what others tell him, that his conclusion is hasty and inaccurate. 4 Pulled up, so to speak, in his early attempts to reach a general truth, he grows more cautious. The impulse to comprehend particular facts under a general truth is not arrested ; it is simply guided and controlled. Induction now proceeds in a more circumspect and me- thodical manner. The young inquirer takes pains to col- lect a wider variety of observations, and so learns to dis- tinguish between what is true of a part of a class and what is true universally. Not only so, he examines the instances he thus collects more closely, in order to ascertain their deeper and essential, as distinguished from their super- ficial and accidental, resemblances. Thus, for example, he finds out that the fact of growth is connected with life, and he will consequently restrict the idea to living things. Induction and Causation. Among the most im- portant truths reached by way of this process of inductive comparison are those having to do with the causes of things. In order to produce any result, we must know the conditions which regulate or determine it. We can only predict events with certainty when we know the circum- stances on which they depend. Hence, inquiry into the causes of things has always constituted a chief part of human investigation. This is seen in the very use of the word "reason." To find the reason for an occurrence commonly means to ascertain its cause, and so to explain how it happened or was brought about. Children's Idea of Cause. The child's daily ex- DEVELOPING THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 255 perience is continually presenting events or occurrences in a certain order. Thus he soon finds out that food satis- fies hunger, that water quenches thirst, that a hard blow gives him pain, and so on. He soon learns, too, that his own actions produce certain results. Thus he discovers that he can break a stick (if not too stout) by bending it, that he can open the door by turning the handle and then pulling (or pushing), etc. 29 Later on he observes that things about him are related to one another in the same way ; for instance, that the appearance of the sun is connected with daylight, of rain with muddy streets. Numerous experi- ences of this kind gradually suggest to his mind the idea of cause. He then goes beyond the limits of the cases of causal dependence which he has actually observed, and mounts to the universal principle : everything that happens has its cause. There is good reason to suppose that the child molds his first idea of cause on the pattern of his own actions and their results. The first inquiries of young children, " Who made the snow ? " " Who made the flowers grow ? " and so forth, point to this conclusion. The production of any natural result is thought of as brought about by a con- scious action analogous to his own actions. The full de- velopment of this idea is seen in the common supposition of young children that everything has its use or purpose. The meaning of the question " Why ? " in the mouth of a child of three or four seems equivalent to, " For what pur- pose or end ? " It is only after a certain development of intelligence has been attained that children learn to dis- tinguish between the sphere of human action with its pur- pose or end, and that of natural or physical causation. Natural Reasoning about Causes. The natural impulse of the young to rise from particulars to generalities is illustrated in a peculiarly striking manner in their in- ferences as to the causes of things. The early age at which they begin to inquire into the causes of events favors the 256 JUDGING AND REASONING, hypothesis that they have an inherited disposition to think in this way, that is to say, to view events as dependent on certain antecedent conditions. The play of this natural impulse results in many hasty inductions. A very slight analogy between things often leads a child to conclude that they have the same cause or can be acted upon by the same forces. This shows itself in an amusing form in the early reasonings of children. Thus a boy two years and ten months old said one day he would put water on some bits of bread lying on his plate in order to get rid of them. He here reasoned badly from the analogy of dissolving sugar in milk, etc. Hasty induction with respect to causes shows itself, too, in other ways. The desire to find some cause for a thing often leads to the fixing of the mind on any attend- ant circumstance, though this may be only accidentally present in the case, and has nothing to do with the effect produced. Thus a little boy of two once argued that milk was white because it came from a white cow which he had happened to see ; and on another occasion, finding his milk cold, he said, "Cold cow make milk cold."* Again, the mind is apt to argue that a thing is always produced by one and the same cause, and this leads to error. Thus a child when just two years old, having one day scratched himself, and, being asked how the blood came on his hands, said, " Fell down on path," and a few months later the same child argued that the slipping off of his glove was the result of the wind blowing it off. In these cases the impulse to account for things by aid of causes already known led to a total neglect of observation. Children argue that all pretty things are bought in shops, that plants injured by the wind have been broken by hu- man hands, and can be mended by the same, and so forth. * It is probable that each of these hasty inferences was based on observations of the transmission of a quality or state from one body to another. INDUCTIVE REASONING. 257 Regulated Reasoning about Causes. The care- ful discovery of causes is often a very difficult process, and always implies an orderly method of procedure. This is seen in its perfect form in scientific investigation.* Among the more important processes here involved are a careful observation and retention of a variety of instances of the effect produced, and further a painstaking analysis of these instances, and a discrimination of what is invaria- ble and essential in the circumstances from what is varia- ble and accidental. Thus, in order to ascertain the causes of combustion, we compare numerous instances, as the burning of coal in the grate, the gas flame, and so forth, and by analyzing these, and eliminating what is accidental, arrive at the common circumstance, the presence of cer- tain combustible substances, and of oxygen, with which these tend to combine. The process of scientific induction implies, further, active experimenting with things. By this means we can vary the surroundings of the phenomenon or process we are observing as we like ; and by so doing are far better able to ascertain what circumstances can be taken away or eliminated without affecting the result, and what can not. Thus, in inquiring into the cause of combination, we find that the nitrogen of the air can be removed and the process of combustion still go on, while the oxygen can not thus be dispensed with. It is evident, from this brief inquiry into inductive rea- soning, that, in order to carry out the process properly, much care and industry are needed. Good induction presupposes a trained faculty of observation. A thorough examination of facts includes two things : (a) the inspec- tion of a sufficient number of instances, and (b} the ade- quate scrutiny and. analysis of the facts that are observed. * The term " induction " is commonly restricted to this orderly and exact type of investigation, the term " generalization " being used for rough every-day modes of reaching general propositions. 258 JUDGING AND REASONING. A defect in respect of the first condition leads to " hasty generalizing," as when a child says that his parent or teacher is unfair by confining his attention to one or two ambiguous cases, and not considering his general manner of acting. A defect in respect of the second condition tends to beget misapprehension, as when the child calls his teacher unfair on the ground of one or more actions, a deeper examination of which would show that there was no real injustice involved. Finally, the due performance of the inductive process implies that the investigator keeps his mind free from prepossession and bias, ready to accept any truth which the facts reveal to him, whether they answer to his expectations and his particular inclina- tions or not.* * The reader should note the close correspondence between the sources of erroneous induction and those of inaccurate conception mentioned above. CHAPTER XV. JUDGING AND REASONING (continued}. Deductive Reasoning-. By induction the child reaches a large amount of general knowledge about things, including the properties of substances, the causes of changes in things, the laws that govern human action, and the simpler truths of space, quantity, and number. In arriving at these, he is of course greatly aided by others' instruction, and in many cases he derives his general knowledge in the first instance exclusively from what others tell him. Having thus amassed a quantity of gen- eral knowledge, he is able to pass on to the second stage of explicit reasoning, namely, deduction. By this is meant reasoning downward from a general truth or prin- ciple to some particular case or class of cases. Thus a child who has found out, partly by observation and partly by instruction, that all persons are liable to make mis- takes, is apt to apply the truth by arguing that his mother or Ms governess makes mistakes. The type of deductive reasoning when fully set forth is known as a syllogism, and is as follows : All animals suffer pain. Flies are animals. Therefore they suffer pain. Or for negative arguments : No lazy children get on. This is a lazy child. Therefore he will not get on. 260 JUDGING AND REASONING. The essential process here, as in induction, is detect- ing similarity or assimilation. We bring a particular case (e. g., flies) under the general rule or principle (animal suffering) ; and we do this because we recognize identity between the particular case and the cases included under the general rule. While the recognition of likeness is thus the essential process in deduction, discrimination plays an important subordinate part. In all arguments by which we reach negative conclusions, we are especially engaged in distin- guishing things, qualities, or promises which differ. Thus when a parent, reasoning with his child, says, " That boy is not a gentleman, for no real gentleman despises the poor," he is distinguishing between the genuine marks of a gentle- man and those which point to a vulgar, ungentlemanly type of mind. Application of Principles and Explanations. Deductive reasoning may begin at one of two ends. We may have a principle given us and be asked to draw con- clusions from it. This is applying a principle, or finding out new illustrations of a truth. New discoveries may be made by a skillful combining of truths already known. Thus, for example, a child, after being told, or having dis- covered, that air has weight, and that it is elastic or com- pressible, might find out for himself that the lower strata must be denser than the higher. In this way the mind is able to anticipate observation, and to conclude beforehand as to how things will happen. On the other hand, we may set out not with a general truth, but with a particular fact or statement, and seek for some more general truth under which it may be brought. This is known as explanation. Explanation, in its sim- plest form, is throwing light on a new and unfamiliar fact by pointing out its analogy to some familiar fact. This is the only explanation possible in the case of young children who can not yet grasp general principles. A higher kind REASONING A DETECTION OF SIMILARITY. 261 of explanation is including a particular case under some general principle. Thus we explain a natural occurrence, as the trade-winds or the rising of water in springs, by re- ferring to the known agencies which produce them. Simi- larly, we find a reason for a statement by bringing it under a more general rule. Thus the teacher justifies some com- mand or prohibition, e. g., " cribbing " from another, by presenting it as a special case of a more comprehensive rule, e. g., unfairness or deceit.* Regulated Deduction. The processes of deductive reasoning may lead to a valid or invalid conclusion. It is the business of logic to point out what conditions must be satisfied in order that a conclusion may be accepted as valid. Without going into the technical details of deductive error or fallacy, we may point out that, since reasoning is essentially a detection of similarity, the great source of erroneous reasoning is confusion of things that are not really and fundamentally similar ; in other words, a want of discrimination. The bad reasoner can not see where similarity ends and difference begins. Among the most common errors in deductive argument are those arising from the ambiguity of terms. When the mind fails to distinguish between different shades of idea attaching to the same word, it is exceedingly liable to go astray. Thus if it were argued that, since all knowledge is the result of self-education, children would be much better for being left to themselves, the reasoner might be con- victed of confusing two meanings of self-education, viz., that of a gifted youth like Pope, who takes his education into his own hands, and that which every child can and may be expected to carry out under the stimulation and guidance of others. Our very eagerness to find a reason for a fact may precipitate us into this confusion of ideas, * On the different meanings of " explanation," see Jevons's " Ele- mentary Lessons in Logic," chap. xxxi. 262 JUDGING AND REASONING. and so into loose reasonings. And any agitation of feel- ing, by blunting for a time the discriminative power, is greatly favorable to such confusion of thought. This liability to confused thinking is furthered by the circumstance that, in our processes of reasoning, words tend to become the substitutes of clear ideas about things. A mind exercised in argument can easily appreciate the logical relations between any given propositions without going to the trouble of carefully scrutinizing the meaning of the terms. Hence, the risk of accepting what is told us by others without adequate critical examination of the ideas involved. If there is only the appearance of a log- ical order in another's statements, we are strongly disposed to accept the reasoning as valid. Other Forms of Reasoning : Analogy. In ad- dition to induction and deduction it is usual to specify other forms of reasoning. Of these the most important is known as analogy. When we reason by analogy we perceive a certain partial resemblance between things, but are unable to detect that perfect identity in essential features or circumstances on which induction proceeds. Thus it is to reason from analogy to say that, since the relation of the mother country to a colony, or of a teacher to his pupils, resembles that of a parent to a child, the same feelings should be excited in the former as in the latter case ; or to argue that, because other planets resem- ble our earth in certain respects, they agree with it further in the possession of living forms. Since there is only a partial resemblance in these cases, the conclusion can never have the certainty of a proper scientific induction. Hence, this form of reason- ing should only be resorted to where the processes of induction and deduction are impracticable. The teacher has often to illustrate a subject by analogies and parallel cases. Mental and moral qualities are to a certain extent illumined by analogies with material properties and pro- EARL Y JUDGMENTS. 263 cesses. Not only so, before the child is able to carry out the processes of analysis, etc., necessary to induction, he is only able to reason from analogy, e. g., an unanalyzed perception of resemblance ; and so the educator must content himself with partial explanations of Nature's pro- cesses based on analogy. The value of such analogical reasoning depends on the detection of real as distinguished from false points of analogy, and on its being resorted to only as a provisional explanation, and a stepping-stone to a truly scientific explanation. Development of Powers of Judging and Rea- soning. The processes of judging and reasoning in their clear and articulate form show themselves later than the process of conception. A child a year old will, as we have seen, name objects, and form rudimentary notions about things, but he can not yet form explicit judgments. In the early period of speech we have only rude germs of affirmation, as when a child exclaims " Bow-wow ! " (there is a dog), or " ot ! " (this food is hot), and so forth. An interesting variety of these compressed judgments is the sign of disappearance (e. g., ta-ta), which, as M. Perez re- marks, seems to imply ceasing to exist.* The first ex- plicit judgments are concerned with individual objects. The child notes something unexpected or surprising in an object, and expresses the result of his observation in a judgment. Thus, for example, a child, whom we may call C, was first observed to frame a distinct judgment when nineteen months old, by saying " Dit ki " (sister is crying). These first judgments have to do mainly with the child's food, or other things of supreme practical interest to him. Thus, among the earliest attempts at combining words in propositions made by C, were the following : " Ka in milk " (something nasty in milk) ; " Milk dare now " (there is still some milk in the cup). Toward the * " First Three Years of Childhood," p. 170. 264 JUDGING AND REASONING. end of the second year the range of discernment shows a marked extension, the child coming now to observe and remark on anything new or striking in the objects that present themselves, such as unusual size, position, etc. Thus, at this date, C was observed to exclaim '" Dat a big wow- wow " (that is a large dog) ; " Dit naughty " (sister is naughty) ; " Dit gow ga " (sister is down on the grass). As the observing powers grow, and the child's interest in things widens, the number of his judgments increases. And as his powers of comparing objects and detecting their relations develop, his judgments gradually take on a more penetrating character. This progress in affirming is of course dependent on the advance of the fehild in the command of words, and the constructive skill necessary to framing sentences. The transition to more elaborate statements shows itself by the end of the second year in tentatives of this type : " Mama naughty say dat." An interesting phase of this early stage of the growth of judgment is the acquisition of the signs of negation, " no," " not." The first sign of negation is a shake of the head ; but this is used as a mark rather of unwillingness or disinclination than of logical rejection. C did not make a distinct negative statement till well on in his third year. The employment of the sign " no " presupposes a knowledge of two alternatives (truth and falsity.) It is greatly aided by the habitual employment of questions. A question when understood brings home to the mind two opposed and mutually exclusive statements. The way in which the negative particles are first used is very instructive. C (early in his third year) was in the habit of framing a statement and then appending the sign of negation thus : " N [his name for himself] go in water no." It was observed, further, in the case of two chil- dren, that during the third year they were apt to couple affirmative and negative statements, e. g., " This I's cup, DEVELOPMENT OF THE JUDGMENT. 265 not mama's cup " ; " This a nice bow-wow, not nasty bow-wow." This suggests that a child, when he first begins to understand the meaning of a negation, feels im- pelled, when making an affirmation, to set forth explicitly the negation implied. As intelligence develops, the child's sphere for judging is gradually widened. The exercise of imagination opens up to him many new subjects to judge about, e. g., the ways of men and animals. At the same time, the accumu- lation of the fruits of his own experience supplies him with fuller means of judging about things. Not only so, he now becomes capable of judging not only about par- ticular objects, but about classes. Thus he picks up and repeats the general statements made by those about him, as, for example, " Naughty children play with the dirt." The extension of the vocabulary and the progress of ab- straction and conception gradually lead to a more abstract type of judgment. The growth of the power of judging is marked by an increase of a cautious and critical spirit in relation to affirmation. Things and their relations are more firmly discriminated, and as a consequence are described more clearly and minutely. Again, the tendencies to exaggera- tion and misstatement due to the influence of feeling (e. g., the desire to astonish or amuse) are gradually checked, and so the judgments gain in point of accuracy or fidelity of representation. Along with these changes, we may note that the child's tendency to give reality to the produc- tions of fancy is brought under restraint. By the aid of his growing experience he is able to fashion a rudiment- ary standard of what is possible and impossible, probable and improbable ; and as a result of this he becomes more cautious in making assertions. Finally, this progress in critical discernment shows itself in examining and reject- ing what is unconnected with what he already knows. The approach of the close of childhood is appropriately 266 JUDGING AND REASONING. marked by a considerable increase of independence in judging about things. Growth of Reasoning Power. In close connec- tion with this progress in judging there goes on the devel- opment of the power of inferring or drawing conclusions. At first, as observed, the process is implicit, from particu- lars to particulars, from one fact or situation to another more or less like it. The first exercise of the power is seen in doing things, in adopting means to ends by the help of analogies, with previous experience. Thus the first distinct trace of a reasoning operation in the case of C appeared when he was seventeen months old. He asked for bread and butter (which he called " bup "). Not being immediately attended to, he stretched out his hand toward the bread-knife lying on the table, still repeating the sound. This action of pointing was manifestly an exten- sion to a new case of the known results of pointing, and moreover implied the recognition of a relation between the knife and the satisfaction of his want. A more ad- vanced step was noted at the end of the twenty-first month. His father told him not to eat some brown sugar which he was taking out of a bag. He answered promptly and emphatically " Ni ! " This was clearly finding a reason by way of justification, "I eat it because it is nice." First Reasonings about Cause. As already ob- served, the child's first reasonings about cause are very crude. He snatches from his past experience any analo- gous case in order to explain the happening of things. This leads to an anthropomorphic interpretation of events. For example, C in his twenty-fourth month found a peb- ble in his box of bricks. His mother asked him what it was doing there, and he replied, " Wa pay bricks." * That is, " Wants to play bricks." In justice to C, it must be added that he instantly went on to reflect. Looking at the pebble, he sagely observed, " No ands " (" It has no hands "). EARLY REASONINGS ABOUT CAUSE. 267 Early in his third year he got into the way of asking who made this and that thing. He argued that everything imperfect, such as a flower without a stem, could be " mended." Again, noticing pips in an orange, he asked, " Who put pips there cook ? " By the end of the third year a child is wont to perplex his mother by asking the "why "of everything. This is an important moment, as indicating the development of a vague general idea that things have their causes and rea- sons, and are capable of being explained. But the type of causation is still anthropomorphic. He looks at things as occurring for a purpose, and can only understand them in so far as they present some analogy to his own pur- posive actions. As the child's mind develops, he shows greater power in examining what he sees, analyzing it into its constitu- ent parts, and comparing his experiences one with another. In this way wider inductions and truths of a more abstract character are gradually arrived at. At the same time, his power of discriminating things progresses, and leads to a more careful discernment of the elements of his experi- ences, and so to greater caution in making general state- ments. Thus children from about the end of the fourth year may often be observed to use the expressions, " Some persons," " Many persons," " generally," and so forth.* It is by the same progress in discriminative power that the regions of natural events and conscious action are gradu- ally distinguished one from another, though the completion of this distinction probably falls toward the end of child- hood, if not later.f The same line of remark applies to the progress of deductive reasoning. A boy of three or four will apply a simple rule to a particular example. But such applica- * See a good instance given by M. Perez, ibid., p. 177. t A girl aged five years nine months once asked her mother, "What makes the wind, mama? Is it a great big fan somewhere?" 268 JUDGING AND REASONING. tions are of the most obvious kind. To recognize that a thing is heavy, and so capable of hurting, or that pulling flies to pieces is cruel, and so wrong, demands but little power of tracing out similarity in the midst of difference. The growth of reasoning power manifests itself in dis- covering the less obvious applications of a rule or prin- ciple, as that it is cruel to deceive another. This is the result of many exercises of the faculty. As the child's stock of general truths increases, he will find more and more scope for exercising his reasoning powers in drawing conclusions from them. A boy of five or six delights to apply the truths he knows by way of accounting for what he sees. Later on, after his powers of deductive reason- ing have been thus strengthened in these comparatively simple exercises, he will be able to perform the more pro- longed and difficult feats of argument, such as working out a demonstration in Euclid. Varieties of Power of Judging and Reasoning. There are well-marked differences among individuals in respect of their ability to judge and to reason about things. Thus one person can more readily compare any given material, part with part, and decide on the particular point raised. In the uncertain region of opinion, as dis- tinguished from that of demonstrable truth, individuals display a surprising amount of difference in the way in which they judge.* So, too, we remark differences in people's ability to reason about things. Thus of two men face to face with the same group of facts, one will leap quickly to the general law or principle underlying them, while another will fail to detect it. Similarly, one man much more readily brings new facts under old truths than another. These differences, like those in the case of the other * This fact is satirized by Pope in the lines " "Pis with our judgments as our watches ; none Go just alike, yet each believes his own." DIFFERENT TYPES OF MIND. 269 faculties, are general or special. A may have a better faculty of judging on various sorts of matter than B ; or, as commonly happens, he will show a marked superiority in a certain domain, e. g., practical matters, matters of taste, and so forth. In like manner, A may be a better all-round reasoner than B, or show his superiority in some special direction. Thus there is the "inductive mind," quick in the observation and analysis of facts, and delight- ing to trace out the laws of phenomena, the type of the physical inquirer. On the other hand, there is the de- ductive or demonstrative mind, given to dwelling on abstract truths rather than on concrete facts, and skillful in combining these into an orderly argument, the type of the mathematician. Not only so, excellence of rea- soning power commonly displays itself in relation to some particular kind of subject-matter, as the domain of human action and history, geometry, or the science of physics. These differences, like other intellectual inequalities, turn partly oh inequalities of native apti- tude, and partly on differences in circumstances and education. The power of judging well presupposes a native ability to dissect a subject-matter, compare, discriminate, and so forth. But it is a power that receives much of its peculiar character from experience and education. Judging is the outcome of experience, and will vary as this. Not only so, a ripe power of judgment in any region of experience presupposes special exercise in that domain. To judge on a doubtful point in a classification of plants implies the trained botanist's faculty. Similarly, in the case of the ability to reason well. Individuals are not at the out- set equally endowed with the powers of abstraction, of tracing similarity veiled under superficial difference, nec- essary to reasoning. But the special direction of the reasoning faculty depends largely on special practice. A boy of an active and mechanical turn, given to observing 2/0 JUDGING AND REASONING. the action of Nature's forces, will tend to become a pro- ficient reasoner in that domain.* Training the Faculty of Judgment. The train- ing of a child's power of judging begins in close connec- tion with the exercise of the observing powers. He should be encouraged to compare the size and shape of objects, to note the signs of distance, and so forth. f He should then be induced to express the results of his obser- vations in words, to describe the object he has seen, to narrate something which has happened to him. As sup- plementary to this, he should be exercised in repeating carefully what he has heard, and in accepting and reject- ing propositions. Here the parent or teacher should aim at caution in judgment. The natural propensity to accept as certain what chimes in with our wishes and inclinations should be checked. J In close connection with this the child should be exercised in accuracy of statement. The natural tendency of the young to exaggerate needs to be carefully watched and counteracted. The child should be accustomed to think well about the words he uses, to see all that is implied in them, as well as all that is contra- dicted by them. By such exercises he will be led "to reflect on his own mental operations, and so to give greater pre- cision to his thoughts.* And here a knowledge of the logical processes, relations of propositions included under the term " opposition," and also of the processes of ob- version and conversion, will prove serviceable to the * The effect of practice or habit in improving the reasoning power in special directions is well shown by Locke. (" Of the Conduct of the Understanding," sec. 6, pp. 20, 21.) f See Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Education," iii, p. 196. ^"That point of self-education which consists in teaching the mind to resist its desires and inclinations, until they are proved to be right, is the most important of all." (Prof. Faraday.) * " L'enfant qui s'attache a bien choisir un terme, connait et juge la pensee qu'il veut exprimer ; il y a en lui ce retour de 1'intelligence sur elle-meme qui constitue la reflexion." (Madame Necker.) LIMITATION OF JUDGMENTS. 271 teacher.* At the same time, this regulation of judgment is a matter of some delicacy. Children delight in vivid and picturesque statement, and a touch of exaggeration is perhaps pardonable. A too strict insistence on precision in the early stages may easily discourage confidence, and lead to an untimely hesitation in judgment. . A perplexing problem in the training of the judgment is to draw the line between excessive individual independ- ence and undue deference to authority. The power of judging is, as we have seen, more fully exercised when the child forms an opinion for himself than when he passively receives one from his mother or teacher. To exercise the judgment is thus to draw out his power of judging for him- self. And this can be very well done in certain regions of observation, as, for example, in judging about the beauty of natural objects and works of art. On the other hand, it is obvious that, with respect to other matters, the child's liberty of judging must be curtailed. It would not do to allow a young child, with his limited experience, to decide what is possible or probable in a situation of any complex- ity, and still less to permit him to pronounce on the right- ness or wrongness of an action. To combine the ends of authority and of individuality in respect of judging re- quires much wisdom and skill in the trainer of the young. Differences of children's temperament must here be taken account of. An indolent, timid child, wanting in self- reliance, and disposed to rely on others to excess, requires another regime from that suitable to an over-confident child. As the intelligence develops, greater scope should be given the child for the exercise of his judgment. Thus, by widening the sphere of his free activity, the parent calls forth his practical judgment. An important region for * The process of obversion, by which every affimative proposition may be expressed as a negative one, and vice versa, is dealt with by Dr. Bain. (" Logic," " Deduction," bk. i, chap, iii.) 272 JUDGING AND REASONING. the unfettered play of the faculty is that of matters of taste. The child should be encouraged to judge for himself what is pretty, and so forth. The power of deciding on doubt- ful matters of motive, wisdom, and testimony may be ex- ercised by an intelligent study of history. Here, too, there is scope for the exercise of the moral judgment. Finally, the study of literature exercises in a special way the critical or aesthetic judgment. Training of the Reasoning Powers. The work of training the young in careful processes of reasoning must go on hand in hand with the development of his power of judgment. In the earliest stage (from about the beginning of the fourth year) the mother is called on to satisfy the child's curiosity or desire for explanation. This period is an important one for the subsequent development of the child. Parents are apt to think that children not infrequently put questions in a half-mechanical way, with- out any real desire for an explanation, and even for the sake of teasing. This view, however, as we shall see later on, is probably erroneous. Children are no doubt capri- cious in their questionings ; their curiosity is restricted in its range, and momentary in its duration. Still, their ques- tionings may in general be accepted as expressing at least a passing desire for knowledge. And, so far as this is the case, it is well to heed and satisfy them so far as may be. It seems a good rule to give an explanation wherever the nature of the subject allows of a simple one. This is Locke's advice, " Encourage his inquisitiveness all you can, by satisfying his demands and informing his judgment, as far as it is capable " (" Some Thoughts concerning Educa- tion," 122). At the same time, the educator should take care in an- swering children's questions not to indulge them in intel- lectual indolence and weak dependence on others. They should be stimulated to find out to some extent for them- selves the reasons of things. " A word or two," writes LIMITATION OF REASONING. 273 Madame Necker, " in order to put him on the way, often in order to make him discover that by thinking well about the matter he might have been able to assure himself, these words, I say, will be seeds which will fructify with time." In some cases, no doubt, children's questions are apt to be very awkward, and even unanswerable. Thus a little girl of four and a half years once drove her mother to one of the most difficult problems of philosophy thus: She sees a wasp on the window-pane, and wants to touch it. Her mother says, "No, you must not; it will sting you." Child : " Why doesn't it sting the glass ? " Mother: " Be- cause it can't feel." Child: "Why doesn't it feel?" Mother: "Because it has no nerves." Child: "Why do nerves feel ? " The young must be accustomed to the idea that there are many things that they can not yet un- derstand, and be exercised in taking some truths on trust, and not insisting on knowing the " why " of everything. George Eliot says somewhere, " Reason about everything with your child, you make him a monster, without rever- ence, without affections." 30 But the training of the reasoning powers includes more than the answering of the spontaneous questionings of children. The learners must be questioned in their turn as to the reasons of things, and the causes of what they see happening about them. A question sets a child thinking, raises a new problem in his mind, and so stimulates his powers of thought. Not only so, the asking the why and wherefore of things helps to familiarize the child's mind with the truth that everything has its cause and its explana- tion. The parent or teacher should aim at fixing a habit of inquiry in the young mind by repeatedly directing his attention to occurrences, and encouraging him to find out how they take place. Here, of course, great discernment must be shown in selecting problems which the child's previous knowledge will enable him to grapple with. This exercise of the child's mind, in discovering the reasons of 18 274 JUDGING AND REASONING. things, involves a method, training in orderly recollection ; in going back to his past experiences to search for fruitful analogies, and to his acquired principles for the true ex- planation. The systematic training of the reasoning powers must aim at avoiding the errors incident to the processes of in- duction and deduction. Thus children need to be warned against hasty induction, against taking a mere accidental accompaniment for a condition or cause, and overlooking the fact that one result may have a plurality of causes. This systematic guidance of the child's inductive processes will be much better carried on by one who has studied the rules of inductive logic. In like manner the teacher should seek to direct the young reasoner in drawing conclu- sions from principles, by pointing out to him the limits of a rule, by helping him to distinguish between the cases that do and those that do not fall under it, and by famil- iarizing him with the dangers that lurk in ambiguous lan- guage. And here some knowledge of the rules of deduct- ive logic will be found helpful. Subjects which exercise the Reasoning Fac- ulty. The training of the reasoning faculty should be commenced by the mother and the elementary teacher in connection with the acquisition of common every-day knowledge about things. Its completion, however, belongs to the later stage of methodical school instruction. There is no subject of study which may not in the hands of an intelligent and efficient teacher be made helpful to this re- sult. Thus the study of physical geography should be made the occasion for exercising the child in reasoning as to the causes of natural phenomena. History, again, when well taught, may be made to bring out the learner's pow- ers of tracing analogies, of discovering the causes and effects of human action, and deducing particular results from well-ascertained principles. The teaching of science is, however, the great agency INDUCTIVE AND DEDUCTIVE SCIENCE. 275 for strengthening and developing the reasoning powers. Science is general knowledge expressed as precisely as possible, and the study of it serves to give accuracy to all the thinking processes. Science is further an orderly ar- rangement of knowledge according to its dependence. It sets out with principles gained by induction, and then pro- ceeds in a systematic way to trace out deductively the conse- quences of these principles. It thus serves to train the reasoning powers in an orderly and methodical way of pro- ceeding. Some sciences exhibit more of the inductive process, others more of the deductive. The physical sciences are all, to some extent, inductive, resorting largely to observa- tion, experiment, and proof of law by fact. And some of these, as, for example, chemistry and physiology, are mainly inductive. In these the inquirer is largely concerned with observing and analyzing phenomena and arriving at their laws. Hence they provide the best training of the mind in the patient and accurate investigation of facts, and the cautious building up of general truths on a firm basis of actual observation. On the other hand, the mathematical sciences are almost entirely deductive. Here the princi- ples, being simple and self-evident, are stated at the outset in the shape of axioms, etc.; and the development of the science proceeds by combining these principles in ever new ways, and arriving at fresh results by a process of rig- orous deduction. This process of demonstration, which shows how the conclusions necessarily follow from the prin- ciples, is an exercise of the logical faculty of very peculiar value. Hence mathematics has commonly been held up as the best instrument for disciplining the mind in exactness and consistency of thought. Method in Teaching. All sciences as they progress tend to grow deductive, that is to say, deduction plays a larger and larger part in them. This is illustrated in the growing application of mathematics or the science of quan- 276 JUDGING AND REASONING. tity to the physical sciences, chemistry, etc. Here the laws reached by induction are set forth at the outset as the first principles of the science, from which the explana- tion of particular phenomena is deduced. In these cases, then, we see the proper order of expounding a subject, when the knowledge of it is complete, deviates from the natural order of arriving at knowledge by the individual mind when left to itself. In other words, the " method of instruction " is not necessarily the same as the " method of discovery."* Since the teacher represents the results of all past investigations, he may start with the principles reached last of all in the actual history of human discovery, and set forth the consequence of these. At the same time, the natural order of discovery ought never to be lost sight of. In some cases, as in teaching the rules of grammar, it may be desirable to proceed according to an " inductive method," i. e., leading the pupil up from an inspection of words in actual use to a comprehension of the laws that govern their use. And in no cases ought principles to be taught before some examples are given. It is now admitted that the elementary principles of number, or the simple propositions of arithmetic, are best taught by means of an inductive operation carried out on concrete examples of number. Not only so, even such " self-evident " truths as the axioms of geometry require, as mathematical teachers are well aware, a certain amount of concrete illustration. So obvious a principle as that if equals be added to equals the wholes are equal should be illustrated and firmly grasped by aid of concrete examples. The words of Seneca in reference to practical training apply to theoretic instruction also : " Longum iter est per prsecepta : Breve et efficax per exempla." Thus, in every case, the right method of teaching a sub- * See Jevons's " Elementary Lessons in Logic," lesson xxiv. METHOD IN TEACHING. 277 ject proceeds to some extent according to the order of discovery. The full consideration of the subject of method does not belong here. The broad distinction between induc- tion and deduction only enables us to deal with it in part. Another important logical distinction bearing on the prob- lem is that of analysis and synthesis. In the first we set out with the complex and resolve it into its simpler parts ; in the second we reverse the problem, and, starting with the simple, build up the complex. The distinction is to some extent parallel to that between induction and deduc- tion. In observing facts and arriving at the common prin- ciples that underlie them, we resort to analysis. On the other hand, in reasoning deductively, as in Euclid, we pro- ceed synthetically by combining elementary facts and prin- ciples. There is often a choice between proceeding ana- lytically or synthetically, e. g., in teaching a new language. Closely connected with the subject of method, or the best way of teaching a single subject, is that of the best order of dealing with the different subjects of teaching. This is broadly determined by psychological principles, the laws of the growth of faculty. Psychology tells us that subjects appealing mainly to memory and imagination (e. g., geography and history) should precede subjects exercising the reasoning powers (mathematics, physical science). This fixes what has been called the psycho- logical order. But within these broad limits the special arrangement to be followed has to be determined by logi- cal considerations. That is to say, we have to consider the relative simplicity of the subjects, and the depend- ence of one subject on another. This gives us the logical order. By such considerations we arrive, for example, at the rule, that some knowledge of mathematics must pre- cede the study of physics ; that some knowledge of me- chanics, chemistry, etc., must precede the study of physi- ology (see Appendix C). 278 fUDGING AND REASONING. APPENDIX. The first manifestations of the reasoning faculty are illustrated by Perez, ot, tit., chap, x, and Egger, op. cit., part iv. On the training of the faculty of judging and reasoning, the student should read Locke's little work, " Conduct of the Understanding " (ed. by Prof. T. Fowler) ; Miss Edgeworth, " Practical Education," chap, xxiii. He should further master the elements of deductive and in- ductive logic as expounded in such a work as Prof. Jevons's " Ele- mentary Lessons." CHAPTER XVI. THE FEELINGS : NATURE OF FEELING. HAVING now briefly reviewed the growth of intellect, we may pass on to trace the second great phase of mental development, the growth of the feelings. Feeling defined. The term " feeling " marks off those mental states which are pleasurable or painful. These may be immediately connected with bodily conditions, as the sensations of hunger, or may accompany some form of mental activity, as the emotions of hope or remorse. While all feeling has the characteristic of being pleasur- able or painful, agreeable or disagreeable, in some de- gree, there are many feelings which are of a mixed char- acter, such as the bodily feeling of tickling and the mental feeling of grief at the loss of a friend. Feelings exhibit all degrees of intensity, from the quiet current of satisfac- tion which attends the consciousness of doing right, up to the violent excitement of a transporting joy. The feelings constitute a distinct, well-marked phase or division of mind. Our pleasures and pains make up the interesting side of our experience. The objects of the external world only have a value for us in so far as they affect our sensibilities or touch our feelings. Since the feelings are the elements of happiness and its opposite, the study of them is an important part of the science of well-being. But feeling is not merely a subject of great importance 280 THE FEELINGS: NATURE OF FEELING. in itself : it stands in certain relations to the other two sides of mind. On the one side, it is connected with the exercise and development of the intellect. Although feeling, in its more violent forms, opposes itself to intel- lectual activity, in its more moderate degrees it supplies the interest which quickens and rouses the faculties. The culture of intelligence is accordingly limited by the devel- opment of the feelings. Conversely, the cultivation of the intellect promotes the growth of all the higher and more refined feelings, as the sense of beauty, truth, etc. In this way the development of knowing and feeling are closely connected and intertwined. On the other side, feeling stands in intimate connec- tion with action and will. It supplies the stimulus or motive force which excites the will to action. The incen- tives or motives which urge us to do things are the im- mediate products of the several emotional sensibilities. The habitual directions of conduct follow the lead of the dominant feelings. The Diffusion and Effects of Feeling. Every feeling is a mode of mental excitement, and as such has a certain tendency to persist and to master the mind. All our stronger feelings, when fully excited, have a gradual rise and subsidence, the stages of which we can easily trace. A child carried away by hilarious excite- ment or angry passion shows this course of gradual rise and fall, expansion and contraction. When the current of feeling is thus allowed to rise and swell, as in all forms of passionate excitement, well-marked effects, both mental and bodily, are observable. Strong and violent feeling agitates the mind, weakens and often paralyzes the power of voluntary or selective attention, and disturbs the nor- mal flow of the thoughts. Thus a child in a passion of grief or anger is overwhelmed with the agitation, and unable to reflect and to judge. The force of the emo- tional excitement keeps whatever ideas are congruous FEELING WARPS THE INTELLECT. 281 with the feeling and fitted to sustain it vividly before the mind, and excludes others. Thus the mind of the angry child is dominated by the idea of some real or fancied injury, and can not view impartially all the facts of the case. And even less agitating forms of feeling show the same effect on the mind in a less striking degree, by caus- ing it to dwell too much on certain aspects of a subject, and so to form a one-sided and biased view of the matter. The clear understanding of this effect of feeling in warping the intellectual mechanism is of the greatest con- sequence to the teacher. Illustrations of it have already been given in connection with the training of the imagina- tion and of the judgment. The teacher who aims at free- ing the child's mind from prejudice, and rendering its intellectual processes orderly and steady, must be on the watch for this disturbing action of the insidious forces of emotion. Even good feelings, as pity for one in adversity, if allowed to gain the ascendancy in the mind, are apt to obscure the intellectual vision. The well-known effect of strong commiseration for an individual in rendering per- sons unjust in their judgments is explained by this circum- stance. The excessive indulgence in compassion unduly narrows the field of mental vision, shutting out from view much that is relevant and necessary to a fair estimate of the action as a whole. Along with these mental disturbances, there are im- portant physical or bodily effects of feeling. The close connection between mind and body is nowhere more plainly illustrated than in the immediate physical effects of states of feeling. All emotional excitement radiates, so to speak, over the organism, bringing about great changes in the vital processes (action of the heart, respira- tion, etc.), and throwing the muscles into violent activity. A severe shock, whether of grief or of joy, has been known