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THE EDUCATION 
 OF BEHAVIOUR 
 
 A PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDY 
 
 BY 
 
 I. B. SAXBY, D.Sc. 
 
 SENIOR ASSISTANT IN THE WOMEN’S EDUCATION DEPARTMENT OF 
 UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, CARDIFF 
 
 G.P. Putnam's Sons 
 New York €& London 
 The Rnickerbocker Press 
 1925 
 
Copyright, 1925 
 by 
 G. P. Putnam’s Sons 
 
 Made in the United States of America 
 
f 
 Fc 
 ai 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 Tuis little book is an attempt to bring our present 
 knowledge of psychology to bear on the problems of 
 behaviour which have to be faced by those who are 
 in charge of boys or girls during their adolescence. 
 It is intended primarily for the student of education 
 who wishes to teach young people between the ages of 
 g and 17, but it is hoped that it will also appeal to 
 parents as well as to foremen and social workers who 
 are interested in the welfare of adolescents. 
 
 It is always an open question how far a book of 
 this nature should contain descriptions of educational 
 experiments. These descriptions are undoubtedly use- 
 ful as illustrations of the way in which psychological 
 laws can be applied in practice. They would however 
 have to be quoted at length, if they are to be of any 
 real value to the reader and they are, moreover, given 
 in books which are as a rule easily accessible to students 
 of education. It has therefore seemed better to refer 
 the student to these books and to leave him to draw 
 his own conclusions from them. 
 
 Perhaps the main purpose of the book is to make 
 the educator realise that the behaviour of an individual 
 
 ili 
 
iv Preface 
 
 is governed by a highly complexed system of forces, 
 and that these forces obey scientific laws which must 
 be understood if the best results are to be obtained. 
 In order to attain this I have emphasised the psycholog- 
 ical side throughout. The reader who is acquainted 
 with the literature of the subject will see how much 
 my exposition owes to Professor McDougall’s Social 
 Psychology, and to the standard books on analytical 
 psychology. At the same time, I have not scrupled to 
 give my own explanation of a psychological phenom- 
 enon when [ could not find one which seemed to satisfy 
 the conditions as I saw them. Since the book is in- 
 tended for the beginner, I have, however, contented 
 myself with stating where my view is not the one 
 which is generally accepted, giving the reader at the 
 same time such references as should enable him to 
 make up his own mind on the subject. Lengthy dis- 
 cussions of different points of view seem to me to 
 be out of place in a book of this kind. 
 
 In conclusion, J should like to thank Miss E. R. 
 Murray for many helpful suggestions and to express 
 my great obligation to Miss Alice Woods and to Dr. 
 Stanley Watkins for reading the whole of the manu- 
 script and for giving me much valuable criticism 
 and advice. 
 
 I. B. Saxsy. 
 CARDIFF, WALES. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 I.—INTRODUCTION . : . : i : 
 II.—IMPULSES AND REFLEXES . ; ; } 
 IIJ.—Some ImMporTANT IMPULSES : ; ; 
 IV.—SENTIMENTS AND COMPLEXES . P : 
 
 V.—NOTES ON THE FUNCTION OF THE NERVOUS 
 SYSTEM . ‘ z : : A 
 
 VI.—TuHE GrowTH AND CONTROL OF HABITS 
 VII.—EmoTIoN AND SYMPATHY . ; : 
 VIII—Tue PsycuoLtocy or CHARACTER a ‘ 
 
 IX.—THE TRAINING OF CHARACTER . ; : 
 
 X.—WorK AND PLAY ; ; ‘ - j 
 XI.—CoNCLUSION : : : ; ; ; 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY . p ; ‘ : ; 
 INDEX . : P ‘ ; : “ : 
 
 PAGE 
 
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The Education of Behaviour 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Education as preparation for efficient citizenship. 
 Citizenship as the joint product of natural power and 
 environment. é 
 
 STATED in its most general terms, education may be 
 said to be preparation for adult life, and this in turn 
 may be described as preparation for efficient citizen- 
 ship. If we are now asked what exactly is involved in 
 this, we cannot do better than turn to Herbert Spencer 
 for an answer. In his book entitled Education: Intel- 
 lectual, Moral and Physical, he points out that the 
 ideal education of a citizen should include: (1) that 
 which prepares for direct self-preservation; (2) that 
 which prepares for indirect self-preservation; (3) 
 that which prepares for parenthood; (4) that which 
 prepares for citizenship in the narrower sense of the 
 word; and (5) that which prepares for the miscel- 
 laneous refinements of life. 
 
 3 
 
4 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 To put the same thing in different words, an effi- 
 cient citizen should be able and willing: (1) to keep 
 himself fit and in good condition; (2) to do his share 
 of the world’s work; (3) to give his children the neces- 
 sary care and training; (4) to do his duty by his 
 neighbours; and (5) to occupy his leisure in such a 
 way as to provide a desirable outlet for those of his 
 longings which would otherwise remain unsatisfied. 
 
 It is the object of this book to give the student some 
 insight into the conditions under which he is likely to 
 succeed in turning his pupils into efficient citizens in 
 the sense just defined. 
 
 At the outset it is important to determine how much 
 responsibility rests on the child and how much on the 
 educator, for our whole attitude towards the problem 
 necessarily depends on our answer to this question. If 
 the child’s mind is of the nature of a waxen tablet on 
 which we can write what we like, then the environment 
 must be entirely responsible for the result; if heredity 
 practically settles the child’s future at the outset, then 
 it is useless to attempt any sort of interference. As 
 usual, the truth appears to lie somewhere between these 
 two extremes. The natural endowments of the child 
 present as it were the sum total of his possibilities, but 
 it depends on the environment how they develop, and 
 far more persons fail through lack of right environ- 
 ment in youth than through lack of inborn ability. 
 
Introduction 5 
 
 In order to see how heredity and environment act 
 and react on each other, we shall begin with a brief 
 investigation into the origin of standards of conduct 
 and attainments. Superficial observation may suggest 
 that these two important “springs of action” have come 
 into existence in absolutely different ways, for we can 
 remember acquiring most of our attainments by con- 
 scious efforts of our own, whereas many of our stand- 
 ards of conduct seem so much part and parcel of 
 ourselves that we are sometimes tempted to think we 
 must have been born with them. However, further 
 reflection soon shows that both are really the joint 
 products of natural power and environment. 
 
 I will consider attainments first. The knowledge 
 which a child acquires at school depends partly on him- 
 self, but much more on the school. He may, for in- 
 stance, have only slight ability for mathematics, and 
 yet learn more than another with greater natural talent, 
 merely because he happens to have a better teacher. 
 Even exceptional ability may never develop in an un- 
 favourable environment, for we need opportunity to 
 discover what we can do, and we may exhaust our- 
 selves in overcoming real or imaginary obstacles when 
 we have discovered it. 
 
 In the sphere of conduct the conditions under which 
 a child grows up are even more important, for the 
 young child has no inborn ideas of right or wrong, 
 
6 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 and has therefore to acquire them through personal 
 experience. It should be noted, too, that this “personal 
 experience” is only his own in a very limited sense. 
 He can be allowed to find out for himself that fire 
 burns, but not that certain berries are poisonous. In 
 this and many other cases his discovery is limited to 
 the fact that we approve or disapprove of certain acts, 
 and he has to take on trust that we know better 
 than he, or that the reasons which we choose to give 
 him are really correct. This is particularly the case 
 with conventions. Why, for instance, should you say 
 “Please” and “Thank you” at every turn? It would 
 puzzle the average adult to give the child of three to 
 five an answer that would really convince him; yet 
 the child often shows by the tone of his voice that he 
 is anything but satisfied. None the less, he usually 
 acquiesces in the end, partly no doubt because he is so 
 dependent on us, but perhaps mainly because he is 
 continually being made conscious of the superior know- 
 ledge and power of his elders, and is therefore inclined 
 to assume that they probably know best in every case, 
 however incomprehensible their demands seem to be. 
 Thus he gradually adopts the standards of conduct 
 which are accepted in his environment. } 
 
 For most persons there comes, however, a time— 
 usually during adolescence—when they begin to mix 
 with others whose standards of conduct differ more or 
 
Introduction 7 
 
 less from their own, and whom they have yet every 
 reason to respect. Then one of two things may hap- 
 pen: they may learn to close their eyes to everything 
 that threatens their peace of mind; but, failing that, 
 they must modify their views sufficiently to enable them 
 to fit into the old what they feel to be true in the new. 
 Whichever path the adolescent chooses, he is now for 
 the first time actively affecting his standards of conduct 
 and his beliefs. It is, however, well to bear in mind 
 that most of us would grow up without ever question- 
 ing the absolute finality of what we were taught as 
 children, if we did not come across others who have 
 been taught to think differently, and are therefore not 
 prepared to accept our point of view. Thus our stand- 
 ards of conduct seem to be derived almost entirely from 
 our environment. They are, however, not sufficient 
 to decide behaviour alone, for right action involves a 
 knowledge of what is right coupled with the desire to 
 act in accordance with that knowledge, and it is pos- 
 sible to approve of a certain course of action without 
 experiencing the least desire to adopt it. We have there- 
 fore still to consider how far this desire is dependent 
 on the environment. 
 
 This problem will be considered in detail at a later 
 stage. Here it is sufficient to note that our desire to 
 control anti-social wishes springs in the main from our 
 desire to win the approval, or at least te avoid the 
 
8 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 disapproval, of those whose opinion we value for any 
 reason. In adult life, we may ignore the wishes of 
 such persons on occasion because we think that we 
 know the facts of the case better than they do, because 
 we imagine that we are sure not to be found out, or 
 because our desire is so great that we cannot withstand 
 it. During the early years of life the first of these is 
 rarely a cause of disobedience, for a child is continually 
 being made aware of his own weakness and ignorance, 
 and is therefore not likely to question the opinion of 
 his elders. It should therefore be a comparatively 
 easy matter to teach children what is right and what 
 is wrong and to make them want to do right. All that 
 is needed is to win their love and respect, then the rest 
 should follow almost automatically. Yet we fail again 
 and again. What is the cause? ‘There is certainly no 
 lack of goodwill on the part of the child, at any rate 
 initially. Those of us who know children intimately 
 know that they will try to do the most unreasonable 
 things in order to please those they love. Here is a 
 case in point. A little girl of five or six was travelling 
 with her grandmother from Cardiff to London. The 
 grandmother told the child to “‘sit nice and still,” and 
 then got out a paper and began to read it. The little 
 girl evidently tried to obey, but she had been provided 
 with neither picture-book nor toy. Needless to say she 
 began to fidget before long. The grandmother asked 
 
Introduction 9 
 
 her once more to keep quiet; then turned to her neigh- 
 bour and said: “I am always telling her to sit still and 
 she does try, but she finds it very hard to remember.” 
 It was evident from the attitude of the child that it 
 had never struck her to question the wisdom of her 
 grandmother’s demands. She was merely trying to 
 “remember,” and possibly rather vexed with herself 
 for forgetting. It must be said for the grandmother 
 that she was wiser than her words; for when the young 
 fidget began again a few minutes later, she simply cast 
 her neighbour a glance which said: ‘You see, she has 
 forgotten again,’ and left the child to amuse herself 
 in her own way until she went to sleep through sheer 
 boredom. 
 
 Here there was failure on the part of the child, but 
 not rebellion. The grandmother had succeeded in 
 inculcating the desire to sit still, the little girl was 
 merely finding it difficult to obey. She was not defying 
 her grandmother in any sense of the word. 
 
 At other times we have to deal with true rebellion. 
 The child disobeys us deliberately when he cannot pos- 
 sibly have forgotten what we told him to do. We tell 
 him to weed the garden, and he goes off to play with 
 his companions; we tell him not to climb a certain tree 
 and presently find him ensconced on its topmost branch. 
 
 We may take it for granted that the young child 
 who disobeys us in this fashion does not do so because 
 
10 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 he thinks that he is in the right and that we are in the 
 wrong. He does not as yet question our right to 
 lay down the law. His choice lies between obedience 
 with a good conscience and disobedience with a bad 
 conscience. Yet he may disobey us all the same, and 
 that because the desire for approval is by no means the 
 only desire with which he is equipped. Nature has pro- 
 vided the child with a large number of impulses, or de- 
 sires to act. There is the impulse to find out about 
 something new, the impulse to try one’s powers, and 
 so forth. All these impulses vary in strength, not only 
 in different children, but in the same child at different 
 times, and some chance occurrence may render any one 
 of them so strong that the child is unable to resist it 
 for the time being. The result is disobedience. Under 
 wise guidance such disobedience will, however, only 
 lead to a firm determination not to fail again. It is 
 only when the adult demands too much, when failure 
 succeeds failure, that the child presently decides that 
 it is no good trying to be good, and that it is less 
 trouble to be naughty and take the consequences. But 
 even in such a case the young child does not, as a rule, 
 reject the standards of his environment, for he is still 
 convinced that he is in the wrong. He merely decides 
 that these things are not for him, and thus loses all 
 desire to try to be “good.” 
 
 The same applies, of course, to the acquisition of 
 
Introduction II 
 
 knowledge. The child who finds the work consist- 
 ently too difficult, sooner or later gives up attempting 
 to attend in class, with the result that he does not even 
 learn the little that is within the range of his ability. 
 Under suitable tuition such a child will often discover, 
 to his own surprise and delight, that there are things 
 which interest him and which he can do as well as 
 another. Then lessons become worth while, inattention 
 disappears, and he begins to work at least as hard as 
 his more gifted fellows.? 
 
 It follows from all this that the environment (in- 
 cluding therein both the persons and the things with 
 which the child comes into contact) is to a large extent 
 responsible for the ideals and attainments of the child, 
 but that it is not all-powerful. You can take the horse 
 to water, but you cannot make it drink. So, too, you 
 can give the child the opportunity to develop right 
 ideals or to acquire necessary knowledge and skill, but 
 you cannot force him to make the effort against his 
 will, nor to learn more than his natural ability will 
 allow him to learn. The environment of any child 
 represents as it were the sum total of the possibilities 
 that fate has provided for him. If it includes a wise 
 educator, one who knows how to stimulate right desires 
 in the child and to make him want to control undesira- 
 
 *I have been definitely told by such a child: “I was always 
 supposed to be hopelessly stupid.” 
 
12 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 ble impulses, his chances of success will be by so much 
 the greater. But in the end it is the child himself who 
 must acquire the knowledge and the ideals which he 
 will need if he is to become an efficient citizen. He 
 must be active, not passive; an individual who uses his 
 environment to develop his powers and organise the 
 impulses with which he is born, not a mere phonograph 
 that will reproduce faithfully whatever is said into it. 
 
PeHARTE RIL 
 
 IMPULSES AND REFLEXES 
 A. Definition of Impulse as an Inborn Tendency to Seek a 
 Certain End in Certain Situations. 
 B. The Effect of Blocking the Usual Outlets of an Impulse. 
 C. The Relation of Emotion to Impulse. 
 
 D. Definition of Reflex as an Inborn Tendency to React in 
 one Specific Way to one Specific Stimulus. 
 
 E. The Relative Survival Value of Reflex and Impulse :— 
 (1) In a fixed environment, and (2) in a variable 
 environment. 
 
 WE saw in the last chapter that the student of 
 human behaviour is primarily concerned with the 
 origin and growth of desires. It will, however, be 
 necessary to do some preliminary work before we can 
 understand the problems connected with this subject. 
 We shall, therefore, study impulses and reflexes in 
 this chapter, and return to the psychology of desire at 
 a later stage. 
 
 A. The Definition of Impulse 
 
 Impulses are many and varied in character. If 
 we think we are in danger, we want to run away; 
 13 
 
14 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 if we see something strange, but not too strange, 
 we like to examine it; if we are faced with an obsta- 
 cle, we want to surmount it. All these desires are due 
 to impulses, that is to say, to inborn tendencies to act 
 in a certain way under certain conditions. It is 
 characteristic of an impulse that it urges us to some 
 mode of action which seems for the time being abso- 
 lutely obvious, though we could often give no satis- 
 factory reason for our behaviour. Further, the true 
 impulsive act is always conscious. I may blink and 
 breathe without knowing it, but I do not run away 
 unless I am conscious of danger. It is convenient to 
 use the word perceived for being aware of an object, 
 no matter whether we hear it or see it, touch it or 
 smell it, etc., and to call the thing that has been per- 
 cewed in this way a percept. An impulse is, therefore, 
 an inborn desire to attain a certain end in the presence 
 of certain kinds of percepts. It should, moreover, be 
 observed that the actual percept is not always neces- 
 sary, at any rate in the case of human beings. Thus 
 the candidate for an examination may be so afraid of 
 failure that he decides not to sit for it: here it is not 
 an accomplished fact, but the mere thought, “TI shall not 
 pass,” which is responsible for his action. The actual 
 percepts or ideas that are able to arouse a particular 
 impulse vary greatly from person to person and from 
 day to day, but it is none the less possible to classify 
 
Impulses and Reflexes 15 
 
 them. Thus the impulse to avoid danger is roused by 
 every percept which suggests danger, but it depends 
 on the previous experience and knowledge of the indi- 
 vidual whether a particular percept does or does not 
 have that effect on a particular occasion. For instance, 
 the sound of an aeroplane normaliy causes no more 
 alarm than that of a passing motor; during the air 
 raids it was, however, impossible to hear it without 
 experiencing at least a momentary pang of fear. 
 
 Moreover, the means which are chosen to attain the 
 end of the impulse are also liable to variation. It may 
 be well to run away literally if we wish to escape from 
 danger, but it may be safer to hide, or to tell a lie, or 
 to ask for mercy. So, too, we may examine a strange 
 object ourselves, or we may consult either a book or 
 another individual about it: whichever course we adopt 
 we are Satisfying our impulse to investigate. 
 
 In general there are a large number of percepts 
 that may arouse a given impulse and a large number 
 of acts through which any one impulse may seek to 
 attain its end. It will, however, always be found, both 
 in regard to the different percepts and ideas and in re- 
 gard to the resulting acts, that they belong to definite 
 classes (e.g. things that are dangerous or methods of 
 escape), and that they owe their connection with the 
 impulse to the fact that they are, for the time being, 
 members of the corresponding class. 
 
1 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 We may, therefore, define an impulse as follows: 
 An impulse is an inborn tendency to seek a certain end 
 in certain situations. (It makes us want to avoid dan- 
 ger, to remove obstacles from our path, etc.) Jt is 
 roused by all percepts and ideas which seem to the 
 individual to suggest one of these situations, and tt 
 may seek to attain its end by any of the means which 
 he has learnt to use for that purpose. 
 
 B. The Effect of Blocking the Usual Outlets of an 
 Impulse 
 
 When the usual outlets of an impulse are blocked, 
 one of two things may happen: the individual in ques- 
 tion may feel that it is hopeless for him to try to 
 get what he wants, or he may think he can 
 overcome the obstacle. In the first case the nervous 
 energy that has been set free by the percept tends to 
 be driven into some unhealthy channel, such as worry- 
 ing, fussing or self-pity, all of which use up energy 
 without producing results of any value. In the second 
 case it is expended in attempts to attain the end of 
 the impulse by removing the obstacle. It must not, of 
 course, be imagined that the choice of one or other 
 of these alternatives necessarily involves deliberation. 
 Often circumstances make it obvious whether it is 
 or is not worth while to assert oneself: a child of four 
 will fight another child of his own age who tries to 
 
Impulses and Reflexes 17 
 
 spoil his game, but he will merely cry helplessly if a boy 
 of twelve chooses to bully him. If there is actual 
 danger to life and little chance of escape the individual 
 will, however, often fight, even though he knows that 
 his case is desperate. Thus the criminal who is caught 
 red-handed will at times aggravate his offence by trying 
 to kill his captors. 
 
 The weapons we use in the fight necessarily depend 
 on the obstacle we have to overcome. Sometimes mere 
 physical strength is all that is required: we fight with 
 the fist, the spear, or some more modern weapon. But 
 these are often insufficient by themselves; they may even 
 be useless. Suppose, for instance, that I want to solve 
 some mystery and find I cannot do it. My curiosity 
 may be too strong to leave me in peace, my pride 
 may be involved as well, so that I am determined 
 not to be beaten. In such a case I begin to cudgel my 
 brains. I bring all my knowledge and all my power of 
 synthesis and analysis to bear upon my problem. I 
 work at it until I either solve the mystery or am forced 
 to give it up as a task beyond my powers. It is worth 
 while to notice the metaphors we use in this connection. 
 “To be beaten,” and “to cudgel,” and to be “‘forced’’ to 
 do a thing are evidently all taken from the act of fight- 
 ing. <And this is true to life; the process does feel like 
 a fight whenever we are finding it difficult to solve a 
 problem, and most of us have reason to know that de- 
 
18 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 feat in such a case may mean a loss of self-respect which 
 is quite out of proportion to the importance of the task 
 in which we have failed. 
 
 We may, then, state generally that an obstacle to the 
 free functioning of any impulse normally produces an 
 impulse to overcome that obstacle. It is only when suc- 
 cess appears to be out of the question that the individual 
 tends to give way without a struggle. As for the 
 weapons we use, they naturally vary with the needs of 
 the case and with the means at our disposal. At differ- 
 ent times we may have recourse to our fists, or to our 
 powers of verbal expression, to an elaborate engine of 
 war, or to a fine scientific instrument, and our use of any 
 of these may be guided by a highly trained or by an 
 absolutely untrained mind. 
 
 C. The Relation of Emotion to Impulse 
 
 So far we have discussed impulse as though it only 
 involved the percept that sets it in motion and the act 
 by which it seeks to attain its end. A moment’s con- 
 sideration will show that this is not true to life. Take 
 the case of a person who is running away from a mad 
 bull. He is obviously actuated by the desire to avoid 
 danger, and at first, while he is running at the top of his 
 speed, he is probably aware of little but the bull behind 
 him and the gate at the end of the field. But suppose 
 that the gate proves insurmountable, or that his strength 
 
Impulses and Reflexes 19 
 
 fails him before he is able to reach it. Then his original 
 form of reaction, that of running away, is checked, and 
 he is likely to experience an acute attack of fear, unless 
 an alternate form of activity happens to present itself 
 almost immediately. Similarly, the person who 1s over- 
 coming his opponent in a fight is not likely to experience 
 much anger, whereas the one who is being worsted in 
 the conflict, and who is therefore not able to satisfy his 
 impulse to assert himself, will probably feel angry both 
 during and after the event. The reader will easily 
 collect other examples to the same effect. We are thus 
 led to conclude that an emotion tends to be produced 
 when more energy ts set free by the percept than is 
 used up in action. 
 
 It is a matter of common knowledge that each of 
 the well-known emotions is a characteristic phenome- 
 non which only occurs in connection with one par- 
 ticular impulse. The question thus arises whether all 
 impulses are liable to be accompanied by specific feeling 
 tones. The first thing to observe in this connection is 
 that popular usage has at any rate not provided them 
 all with names for their feeling tones. We are, for 
 instance, endowed with an impulse to construct. It 
 appears very early, in the young child’s love of making 
 and building things, and seems to persist through life 
 if too much energy is not absorbed in the mere strug- 
 gle for existence. We see signs of it in every well- 
 
20 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 kept suburb garden, in the make-shifts that some of 
 us like to invent for our own use, and in the pleasure 
 that others take in designing or making their own 
 clothes. The impulse to construct is therefore a fairly 
 strong and a well-established impulse; yet popular 
 usage provides no special name for any feeling tone 
 connected with it. We just say that we enjoy making 
 things, and do not differentiate the special form of en- 
 joyment any further. 
 
 If there is, none the less, a special feeling tone, we 
 should become aware of it when we try to recall our 
 state of mind during the process of constructing im- 
 mediately after the impulsive activity has come to an 
 end. If we do this, we shall, I think, find that the 
 pleasure we take in ‘‘making for the sake of making” 
 has a special flavour about it which differentiates it 
 from all other pleasures. Often, no doubt, the actual 
 pleasure we experience is mixed with others, such as 
 that derived from admiration, but at times (e.g. when 
 engaged in certain hobbies) it is difficult to account 
 for our occupation in terms of any impulse other than 
 the impulse to construct. Any one who has worked 
 under such conditions knows that the pleasure we ex- 
 perience on these occasions is, if anything, increased 
 by the absence of ulterior motives. It is a character- 
 istic experience, which belongs to the same genus as 
 the emotions, and it has only not been differentiated 
 
Impulses and Reflexes 21 
 
 from other forms of enjoyment because it is so much 
 less intense than anger or fear. It seems probable that 
 other impulses, such as the impulse to collect, are also 
 accompanied by characteristic feeling tones when more - 
 energy is being set free than can be used in action, and 
 that these, too, have not risen to the dignity of a special 
 name because they are experienced in so slight a degree 
 that they do not attract the attention of the man in the 
 street. 
 
 D. Defimtion of Reflex 
 
 We saw above that neither the percepts which rouse 
 an impulse nor the acts by which it seeks to attain 
 its end are fixed at birth. If we find that a certain 
 percept is not followed by pain, we no longer seek to 
 avoid it; if we fail to attain the end of an impulse by 
 one form of activity, we are able to try another on the 
 next occasion. 
 
 We have now to turn our attention to a form of 
 activity which is also inborn, but which differs from 
 the impulse in that it is fixed in every detail at birth, 
 and is therefore either not at all or only indirectly 
 under our control. We can make the heart beat more 
 quickly by running, but we cannot change its rate by 
 an act of will, We can hold our breath for a while, 
 but the strain soon becomes too great for us. No 
 amount of practice will prevent our starting at an un- 
 
22 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 expected noise or blinking when the wind blows dust 
 into our eyes. And there are countless movements 
 going on within us of which we do not even become 
 aware unless we happen to take up the study of 
 physiology. 
 
 All these forms of reaction may be classed together 
 for our purpose, Different as they are in some respects, 
 they all have the one point in common, that they are 
 fixed more or less completely at birth, and conse- 
 quently either predetermined in every respect or only 
 educable within comparatively narrow limits. When a 
 form of behaviour is fixed in every respect it is usually 
 called a “reflex.” <A reflex may therefore be defined 
 as an inborn tendency to react in one specific way to 
 one specific stimulus or set of stimuli. 
 
 E. The Relative Survival Value of Reflex and 
 Impulsive Activity 
 
 Of the two forms of activity, the reflex and the 
 impulsive, the reflex is undoubtedly the more primitive, 
 for it achieves its end without even needing awareness 
 on the part of the individual, whereas the value of 
 impulsive activity depends on the power to learn from 
 experience. The very fact that it is fixed in every 
 detail means that a reflex ensures the well-being of the 
 animal in the environment in which it originated; but 
 it does this at a great cost, for the very fact that all 
 
Impulses and Reflexes 23 
 
 its reactions are fixed at birth makes it impossible for 
 the reflex animal to adapt itself to a change in its 
 environment. Thus even a slight development in 
 power to learn from experience gives an animal a 
 tremendous advantage in the struggle for existence. 
 Such a development is, however, only useful in the 
 case of a particular reaction, if that reaction is of 
 such a nature that its survival value is likely to vary 
 with changes in the environment; otherwise the reflex 
 is really more serviceable just because it does not 
 depend on the whim of the individual. Accordingly 
 the extent to which a creature is left to learn from 
 experience increases greatly in the higher forms of 
 life, but at the same time adaptability is only developed 
 in any particular case in so far as the animal is 
 likely to be able to make use of it. The chicken’s 
 breathing is reflex, and therefore uneducable. His 
 tendency to pick up caterpillars and worms is also 
 inborn, for he does it successfully at the first attempt 
 and feels impelled to do it when he has had no oppor- 
 tunity of learning it from another chicken. Yet this 
 act is partially educable, for the chicken can learn 
 through experience that certain yellow and black 
 caterpillars are unpalatable, and therefore best left 
 alone (Lloyd Morgan, Comparative Psychology, p. 
 2A), 
 
 In the human being all stages of development can 
 
24 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 be observed. Blinking is an instance of pure reflex 
 activity, for it is quite uneducable. In coughing there 
 is a little control: if the stimulus is not too strong, the 
 individual can restrain his tendency to cough until the 
 irritation has passed away. In talking we see a further 
 development of the power to adapt behaviour to the 
 needs of the environment, for there is only an inborn 
 tendency to produce sounds of some kind with the 
 vocal cords: the child who is born deaf does not 
 learn to speak because he does not hear others 
 speak, though he will, unknown to himself, produce 
 sounds under the influence of emotion. Finally, true 
 impulsive acts like fighting depend entirely on the 
 environment for the form they take; in these 
 the individual is merely endowed with the desire to 
 attain certain ends in regard to certain situations, 
 and is left to learn all else from experience 
 (cf. below). For our purpose there will be no need 
 to consider reactions which are intermediate between 
 the pure reflex and the true impulsive act, for they 
 affect our behaviour like impulses in so far as they are 
 educable, like reflexes in so far as they are not educable. 
 At times the same end is attained by impulsive or by 
 reflex activity according to the circumstances of the 
 case. Thus our personal safety is secured not only by 
 the impulse to avoid danger, but also by the reflexes 
 which make us start at a sudden noise and look round 
 
Impulses and Reflexes 25 
 
 ata moving object. It is interesting to note that only 
 reactions which are always useful are reflex in such 
 a case. 
 
 The reader may think that there are certain specific 
 reactions connected with every impulse: the tendency 
 to use one’s limbs with the impulse to fight, the 
 tendency to run away with the impulse to avoid danger. 
 It can, however, be shown that this assertion is at 
 least open to doubt. During the first months of his 
 life the baby necessarily learns that some things move 
 if he presses against them, with the result that he 
 presently tries to push away the people and the things 
 which he does not want. As he grows older the push 
 increases in force. Sooner or later it is directed against 
 his equals, and thus produces a counter-push. Then 
 the result is a fight. The tendency to run away from 
 danger is probably also based on early experience. 
 As soon as the baby becomes aware of his mother, he 
 must realise her as the person who removes pain and 
 discomfort. At first he can only cry when he wants 
 her and must wait until she chooses to attend to him, 
 but as soon as he has learnt to run he can go to her, 
 if she does not come at his call. Then for some time 
 he runs to her whenever he is frightened. -However, 
 there comes a day when he feels in need of protection 
 and fails to find either his mother or a substitute for 
 her. On such an occasion he is likely to discover that 
 
‘ 
 
 26 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 the running away was useful in itself, and from that it 
 is only a small step to adopt running away as a mode of 
 avoiding danger. Other cases could be worked out on 
 similar lines. Thus there seems to be no need to 
 assume that any of the specific means of attaining the 
 end are innate in the case of an impulse. In other 
 words, an impulse seems to be designed to secure the 
 maximum of adaptability by leaving it to experience 
 to teach the form of reaction that is most suited to 
 different situations. We shall see later that at any rate 
 two of the impulses are provided with reflexes which 
 prepare the body for the extra strain which is likely 
 to be thrown upon it when the safety of the individual 
 is endangered. These are, however, of use in every 
 situation of this nature, and therefore in no way con- 
 cerned with the special means by which the individual 
 seeks to attain the end of the impulse.? 
 
 *It is usual to class certain innate tendencies together as “in- 
 stincts.” There is, however, so much diversity of opinion among 
 psychologists with regard to the definition of “instinct” that the 
 writer prefers to do without the term altogether. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 SOME IMPORTANT IMPULSES 
 
 (1) The Impulse to Avoid Danger. 
 (2) The Impulse to Assert Oneself. 
 (3) The Impulse to Fight. 
 
 (4) The Impulse to Seek a Mate. 
 
 (5) The Impulse to Protect the Weak. 
 (6) The Impulse to Investigate. 
 
 (7) The Impulse to Collect. 
 
 (8) The Impulse to Construct. 
 
 IF we examine the impulses with which we are 
 endowed, we find that many of them are connected 
 directly with self-preservation. We feel impelled to 
 take food when hungry, to fight those who try to 
 rob us, to avoid danger and so forth. There are, 
 however, other impulses which do not act in the same 
 way. The mother’s impulse to care for her offspring 
 (or the parental impulse, as it is usually called) is a 
 case in point. If it is strong, it will make the mother 
 starve herself or fight against impossible odds, rather 
 than let her young ones suffer. If it is weak, she will 
 abandon them in the hour of danger and thus save 
 
 27 
 
28 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 herself at their expense. Hence the parental impulse 
 may make for race preservation at the expense of self- 
 preservation. As will be seen in the course of this 
 chapter, there are other impulses which seem to re- 
 semble it in this respect. In short, the life of every 
 individual seems to be governed by two main forces: 
 one which urges him to keep himself alive and well 
 and another which urges him to act for the welfare of 
 his race. Moreover, the various reflexes and impulses 
 seem to be nothing more than so many tools which 
 these primary forces have evolved for themselves in 
 the course of the struggle for existence. 
 
 Although every impulse owes its existence to its 
 survival value, it must not, of course, be imagined 
 that the individual is necessarily, or even frequently, 
 conscious of the forces that are at work in any par- 
 ticular case. Among all animals, the individual who 
 loses his desire for food normally starves to death; 
 among the higher animals any species which lost the 
 parental impulse would rapidly cease to exist. None 
 the less, the average individual never gives these 
 matters a thought. Unless we are in poor health, we eat 
 because we want to eat, not because it is good for us, 
 and the normal mother looks after her child because 
 Nature makes her feel that it is the one thing she 
 wants to do, not because she is interested in, or has 
 even thought about, the welfare of the race. It is only 
 
Some Important Impulses 29 
 
 reflection on what we see around us that teaches us 
 that reflexes and impulses must have been evolved in the 
 service of self-preservation and race preservation. 
 
 The rest of this chapter will be concerned with the 
 study of such impulses as are of importance to the 
 educator. The reader will find that some of these are 
 obviously self-preservative, whereas others are as 
 obviously race preservative. Some, such as the im- 
 pulse to investigate, might, however, fall equally well 
 under either head, and we do not as yet know enough 
 about impulse to classify these with any certainty. It 
 has, therefore, seemed better not to attempt to arrange 
 the impulses in any particular order. 
 
 (1) The Impulse to Avoid Danger 
 
 Strong within us all is the impulse to avoid danger 
 and pain, If the reader doubts this, he is advised to try 
 to prick himself with a needle so as to draw blood, He 
 will be surprised to find how much resistance he will 
 have to overcome in order to inflict on himself so 
 small an injury. It is true that the more intelligent 
 among us do at times expose ourselves to avoidable 
 pain, but it will be found on inquiry that our object 
 is then merely to save ourselves more intense pain in 
 the future. Such, for example, is our reason for sub- 
 mitting to the ministration of the dentist and for work- 
 ing at a compulsory examination subject for which 
 
30 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 we have neither taste nor talent. Still occasionally the 
 impulse to avoid pain does appear to be truly in abey- 
 ance for the time being; thus the soldier will risk his 
 life to save a wounded comrade and the mother will 
 starve herself to have enough food for her child. All 
 the same, it must not be imagined that either the soldier 
 or the mother is therefore free from the capacity to 
 fear pain. They are temporarily unaware of, or un- 
 concerned about, their personal needs, because another 
 stronger impulse is absorbing all their energy. Once 
 that is satisfied, they will be found to be as anxious as 
 their neighbours to escape avoidable pain and danger. 
 The impulse to avoid danger and pain, and the ac- 
 companying emotion of fear, are clearly important 
 factors in the make-up of every individual. Their 
 biological value is too obvious to need discussion. No 
 doubt, some are frightened more easily than others, 
 but no normal person is entirely free from the 
 tendency to feel afraid. 
 
 It is interesting to speculate whether any percepts 
 produce fear innately, or whether all our particular 
 fears are due to experience. (As pointed out above, 
 the start at a sudden noise is of the nature of a reflex, 
 because uneducable.) Fear of strangers is very com- 
 mon as soon as a baby begins to distinguish the mem- 
 bers of the household from other people, fear of the 
 dark often seems to develop, in spite of all precautions, 
 
Some Important Impulses 31 
 
 as soon as the imagination begins to become active; 
 but whether these are not both merely special cases of 
 the fear of the unknown, is at least open to question. 
 Finally, fear of the unknown may well be the product 
 of experience combined with the tendency to generalise, 
 which is so characteristic of children. Hence it would 
 seem that a child is born with no special fears, but 
 learns to fear things which have actually produced 
 pain or which seem to him to belong to the same class 
 as these. 
 
 However this may be, the child has undoubtedly 
 acquired a number of special fears by the time he goes 
 to school. Since they are caused by the environment, 
 these fears will, of course, vary from child to child 
 and from place to place. The country child is more 
 likely to be afraid of tramps, the town child of bur- 
 glars; both may be afraid of punishment, of being 
 bullied by certain other children, or of witches and 
 hobgoblins. 
 
 Moreover, it is not only the percepts which develop 
 under the pressure of the environment. The same 
 applies to the methods by which the child tries to escape 
 from pain and danger. Thus experience will have 
 taught one that the best way to escape punishment is 
 to tell a lie, another will have found it more effective 
 to burst into tears, another to coax, and here and 
 there a lucky child may have discovered that if only he 
 
32 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 owns up manfully, the adult will understand and will 
 not inflict some arbitrary punishment which is severe 
 enough to produce real fear. 
 
 The education that was begun at home is now sup- 
 plemented at school. As his experience increases, the 
 child begins to lose or modify some fears and to 
 develop others, and again it depends on his environ- 
 ment whether he learns to be afraid of the right things. 
 The foolhardy boy seems to expose himself to serious 
 danger for the mere joy of trying his powers, with no 
 thought of what would happen to him if he made a 
 false step. In the young child this tendency is often 
 more apparent than real, for he does not yet know what 
 is dangerous. Hence he grows more careful as his 
 experience becomes wider. He will, of course, continue 
 to do things that involve a certain amount of risk, for 
 a slight degree of fear adds to the spice of life; but 
 he will be careful to avoid anything that is likely to do 
 him serious harm. Occasionally, however, we come 
 across an adolescent whose exploits can only be de- 
 scribed as foolhardy: it seems as though he had no 
 fear, no idea of self-preservation. If we watch such 
 a one closely, we shall find that his acts are done in 
 a way which is calculated to attract the attention of 
 others. There must be some admiring school-fellows 
 who will see him accomplish his feat or at least hear 
 about it, or, failing that, an adult who will scold him 
 
Some Important Impulses 33 
 
 for it. In other words, his foolhardiness is due to 
 his desire to attract notice, and it is therefore the 
 environment that is to blame for it. 
 
 Modern psychology has proved conclusively that an 
 impulse cannot be killed. All that can be done is to 
 divert its energy into different channels. A boy may 
 turn to foolhardiness because he cannot satisfy his 
 desire to assert himself in any other way. This desire 
 is in itself normal and healthy. All it needs is a suitable 
 outlet. If such a boy is, therefore, made to feel that 
 he cannot attain his end by foolhardiness, and if he 
 is at the same time provided with suitable means of 
 satisfying his sense of his own importance, he will 
 readily turn his energy into more profitable channels, 
 
 (2) The Impulse to Assert Oneself 
 
 The impulse to insist upon one’s rights is evidently 
 as important to self-preservation as the impulse to 
 avoid danger. In a primitive community, at any rate, 
 the individual who is not prepared to stand up for him- 
 self is likely to be deprived of anything which he has 
 and which his fellows happen to covet, and even if he 
 grows up in a community where this is not the case, he 
 will be at a serious disadvantage if his desire for self- 
 preservation is not of normal strength, for the wish 
 to prove ourselves as good as our neighbours makes us 
 try our powers both on persons and on things. Thus 
 
34 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 we learn our limitations, thus too we are first impelled 
 to acquire the skill or the knowledge which seems to 
 give others an advantage over us, but which is not in 
 itself sufficiently strange to arouse our curiosity. 
 
 It has often been observed that a child tends to 
 be a thorough-going egotist from the age of four 
 or five to that of ten or eleven. If we listen to his 
 talk we find that he is at all times occupied with him- 
 self. His conversation is full of J, Me and My. If 
 there is something good to be had, he wants it all, and 
 finds it hard to believe that his younger brother really 
 has as good a right to it as he. Yet that same child 
 could be charmingly unselfish at the age of eighteen 
 months or two years. Then he would, at times, be 
 quite pleased to see his brother eat a piece of chocolate, 
 and would display no desire to have it himself. Now 
 he would consider such an arrangement most unjust. 
 It may almost seem as though something had been lost 
 between the ages of two and four. As a matter of 
 fact, just the reverse is the case. The child of two is 
 sometimes unselfish because he has not yet fully realised 
 himself as an individual. In so far as he has realised 
 himself, he will be found to be at least as selfish as the 
 child of five. 
 
 The contrast between self and non-self is acquired 
 gradually through experience. The first glimmerings 
 of it must arise in the mind of the tiny baby when he 
 
Some Important Impulses 35 
 
 discovers that his toes are his own in a sense in which 
 his bottle and his nurse are not. As he grows older 
 the child gets an idea of himself as a person who can 
 walk, who can ask for what he wants, who is clever or 
 stupid, good or naughty, as the case may be. More- 
 over, whatever his opinion of himself, he is at this 
 stage primarily interested in himself. And it is good 
 that it should be so. He must understand himself at 
 least superficially before he can attempt to understand 
 others, and he must have had struggles of his own 
 before he can sympathise with their difficulties. 
 
 At times he may become unpleasantly self-assertive, 
 but that is entirely the fault of the environment. To 
 take a case in point. A very bright little girl of six 
 was in the upper transition class of a kindergarten, but 
 was considered too young to be moved to the first form. 
 She began to rule the roost with a vengeance. Every 
 child in the class had to obey her. There was no peace 
 if she was not the leader in every game. Finally the 
 school authorities were persuaded to put her into the 
 first form in spite of her youth. There was a change 
 almost alarming in its suddenness. Our young mis- 
 chief-maker became docile and amenable, ready to 
 take any part that was assigned to her by the others 
 in their free play. If we provide the right companions 
 and the right standards, the child will never have the 
 opportunity to think himself abnormally clever, ap- 
 
36 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 preciation will only spur him on to further effort, and 
 his very self-assertion can be used to teach him a certain 
 amount of consideration for others. 
 
 As the child approaches adolescence he becomes 
 more sensitive to public opinion. If the environment 
 is favourable, he therefore learns not to be too 
 obviously self-assertive. This does not mean that his 
 interest in himself becomes less: that remains through- 
 out life one of the primary forces which urge us to 
 make the best of ourselves. All that happens is that 
 the small displays of power which please the young 
 child are no longer good enough for us as we grow 
 older. We need something more: things that may take 
 us years to achieve, that may mean months of uncon- 
 genial work, but that are intended to prove to ourselves 
 and to others that we are persons of some consequence. 
 And if an individual fails to discover an outlet of this 
 kind, we find him seeking one in acts of petty tyranny, 
 in foolhardiness, in harebrained schemes that would 
 not stand ten minutes’ unprejudiced criticism, or in 
 some form of unhealthy suppression, such as abnormal 
 sensitiveness to the opinion of others. 
 
 (3) The Impulse to Fight 
 
 Closely allied to the impulse to assert oneself is 
 the impulse to fight. If our opponent refuses to give 
 way, and if he is not strong enough to arouse our 
 
Some Important Impulses 37 
 
 fears, then our self-assertion impels us to fight him. 
 As was pointed out in Chapter II, the obstruction of 
 any impulse may make us fight, but probably self- 
 assertion is roused whenever the free functioning of 
 an impulse is checked by a preventable cause, so that 
 it is more correct to say that self-assertion is the im- 
 mediate cause of pugnacity. Beyond this, it is at this 
 stage unnecessary to add anything to what was said in 
 that chapter. 
 
 (4) The Impulse to Seek a Mate 
 
 The mating impulse, the impulse which drives each 
 fully developed individual to seek a mate, is un- 
 doubtedly the most primitive of all race-preservative 
 impulses. Only among the lowliest organisms is there 
 as yet no need for it. Thus the microscopic amceba 
 simply divides into two equal halves when it has grown 
 to a certain size. Each of these halves then continues 
 its independent life, and grows on until it in turn has 
 reached its limit of growth and divides. In other 
 simple forms of life the young individual grows on 
 the parent until big enough to shift for itself. In 
 others he begins life as a single cell or spore. In all 
 these cases a single parent is sufficient to produce the 
 new individual. 
 
 Very early in the story of life Nature seems, how- 
 ever, to have discovered that better results are obtained 
 
38 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 by making the production of the new individual depend 
 on the collaboration of two parents, and gradually these 
 two parents have become differentiated into what we 
 know now as male and female. 
 
 Along with this differentiation of function there 
 must have developed an impulse to drive the two sexes 
 to seek each other, since a species would necessarily 
 become extinct if it lost the power of individual propa- 
 gation without acquiring this impulse. The mating 
 impulse is, therefore, one of the most ancient and well- 
 established of our impulses. It may perhaps be worth 
 while to insist once more that there is no thought of 
 race preservation, even in the minds of human beings, 
 when the impulse functions normally. The individual 
 experiences nothing beyond a more or less intense long- 
 ing for some member of the opposite sex, and race 
 preservation is about the last explanation he would 
 give, if called upon to account for this longing. 
 
 To sum up, natural selection, acting through untold 
 ages, has caused the mating impulse to become one of 
 the strongest tendencies with which we are endowed. 
 In its pure form it simply drives each individual to 
 find a mate to his liking without further considerations 
 of any kind. 
 
 The stronger an impulse, the more difficult it is to 
 learn to control it wisely, and it is clearly a condition 
 of community life that the mating impulse should be 
 
Some Important Impulses 39 
 
 held in check. One would, therefore, expect parents 
 and teachers to give much thought to this difficult sub- 
 ject, but as a matter of fact it is one of the things that 
 both home and school seem to think safe to leave to 
 chance. 
 
 It is difficult to say at what age the child would 
 become aware of the impulse of his own accord, 
 because the environment does so much to affect its 
 development. Children watch their elders much more 
 closely than these always realise. In some surround- 
 ings children of six or eight may discover that it is 
 “srown up” to be more especially interested in mem- 
 bers of the opposite sex; in others they may as readily 
 learn that it is in some way wrong to do so. Thus 
 there may be preference for the opposite sex at quite 
 an early age, but this is the exception rather than the 
 rule if the children grow up in an environment in which 
 boys and girls are treated alike. In so far as there is 
 any differentiation at the age of 8 and g it would 
 rather seem to be in favour of the same sex. A little 
 later there is no longer any doubt about it; the boy 
 then plays only with boys, the girl only with girls. 
 This may last months or years. Where develop- 
 ment is checked the individual may never outgrow 
 it. However, as a rule, the adolescent begins to be 
 interested in the opposite sex sometime between twelve 
 and eighteen, If he is growing up in a community 
 
4o The Education of Behaviour 
 
 in which boys and girls work together on equal terms, 
 these early flirtations may be taken to be part of his 
 normal development. If the boy can only meet the 
 girl rarely, and then by stealth, the matter is far 
 more serious; but that is the fault of the environ- 
 ment, not of the adolescents. Finally, if each is care- 
 fully kept from the other, those in whom these 
 tendencies are strong will find an outlet in excessive 
 friendship with a member of their own sex. As is 
 well known to any one who has worked in boarding- 
 schools, these friendships are at least as absorbing as 
 boy and girl flirtations, and they do little or nothing 
 to prepare the individual for normal adult life. 
 
 If the school is to do its duty by the community, 
 it will evidently have to teach its pupils to control 
 this vital impulse without repressing it. This will 
 be an extremely difficult task so long as the sexes are 
 kept apart at school, for such a line of action can only 
 encourage repression in some pupils and lead to under- 
 hand behaviour in others. Probably the only way to 
 prevent either of these alternatives is to establish a 
 system of co-education schools in which boys and girls 
 can learn to meet each other naturally on an equal 
 footing. It is, of course, essential that such schools 
 should be staffed with men and women who are alive to 
 the importance of their task and able to give the right 
 kind of guidance at the right moment; but if these are 
 
Some Important Impulses 4l 
 
 secured, the vast majority of the pupils who attend 
 such schools would undoubtedly develop into indi- 
 viduals who have learnt self-control without repression. 
 
 We said above that the average school at present 
 leaves the education of the mating impulse to chance. 
 It may be objected to this that definite attempts have 
 been made to give boys and girls sex instruction at 
 school, and that teachers have even been given the 
 opportunity of acquiring such knowledge as will enable 
 them to give this instruction effectively. Now there 
 can be no doubt that all boys and girls should have 
 instruction in this matter before they are expected to 
 be responsible for their own actions, but no one who 
 has really grasped what is meant by impulse will 
 imagine that such instruction will by itself ensure self- 
 control. Knowledge is needed to satisfy the impulse 
 to investigate which is aroused by the mystery which 
 surrounds the origin of children, and is further stimu- 
 lated by the unwillingness of the average adult to give 
 the young inquirer satisfactory answers to his ques- 
 tions. When the child finds that the ordinary channels 
 of information are closed against him, self-assertion 
 tends to be roused as well, with the result that he 
 tries other means of solving his problem. In this way 
 the child runs the risk of obtaining his information in 
 such a form that it develops in him fixed likes and 
 dislikes which may work serious harm at a later stage. 
 
42 The Education of Benacione 
 
 There can, therefore, be no doubt that suitable sex 
 instruction has its place in the education of the indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 Whether it is wise to give this instruction to large 
 classes of adolescents as part of the ordinary curricu- 
 lum is another matter. It must be borne in mind that 
 home training teaches the average child to think of 
 everything connected with sex as secret and mysteri- 
 ous: it is a thing “nice” people do not talk about in 
 public. At the age of twelve or thirteen this idea has 
 become part of the mental equipment of the boy or girl, 
 and the teacher who is willing to discuss this tabooed 
 subject in class is therefore likely to rouse resentment. 
 Ideally, the instruction should undoubtedly be given by 
 the parent, who should answer questions simply and 
 truthfully as they arise. In this way every child 
 would know all that 1s essential long before he reaches 
 the difficult years of adolescence. Where the parents 
 shirk their duty, the school has of necessity to step 
 in. It might, however, be argued to some effect that 
 it would be better for the school to follow the example 
 of the parents in this instance, until it has learnt to pro- 
 vide something more adequate than wholesale class 
 instruction. 
 
 We see, then, that suitable sex instruction is essential 
 to satisfy the impulse to investigate and to ensure the 
 right attitude towards the subject. Beyond this, 
 
Some Important Impulses 43 
 
 the function of the environment is largely that of 
 stimulating the right ideals and of providing plenty 
 of outlets for superfluous nervous energy. The 
 full bearing of this will be seen more clearly after 
 reading the chapter on Sentiments and Complexes. 
 
 (5) The Impulse to Protect the Weak 
 
 In its primitive form the parental impulse may only 
 have prompted the mother to look after her own 
 children. Under the influence of our gregarious habits 
 and our growing imagination, the percepts that waken 
 it have, however, increased in number, until to-day the 
 fact that a person is weaker or younger than ourselves 
 is as a rule quite sufficient to make us wish to help 
 him, even though that person be a perfect stranger to 
 us. The more dependent an individual is upon us, the 
 more likely are we to feel for him an affection similar 
 to that which the mother feels for her child. In order 
 to emphasise this we shall therefore refer to the 
 tendency as the impulse to protect the weak, or the 
 “protective impulse.” 
 
 It is difficult to say at what age this impulse begins 
 to develop in children, because it is often impossible 
 to judge how much of what we observe is due to imita- 
 tion, how much to self-assertion, and how much to 
 a true impulse to look after some one younger or 
 weaker. Occasionally, however, we come across Cases 
 
44 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 which can hardly be explained in any other way. Thus 
 a child of five will at times be wonderfully patient in 
 playing with a baby who is just old enough to be a 
 nuisance rather than a help in his games. ‘Thus, too, 
 children’s play with their dolls or teddy bears is often 
 too realistic to be due to mere imitation. 
 
 The healthy development of the protective impulse 
 is evidently of as great importance to the community 
 as that of the mating impulse, yet it receives almost as 
 little attention after the first few years of school life. 
 
 In a good kindergarten children soon discover the 
 pleasure of helping and looking after others, for the 
 older children are encouraged to help the younger ones 
 in various ways, and each class has pets and animals for 
 whose welfare it is held responsible. This training has 
 the further advantage of teaching the children that the 
 protective impulse is not one which they can indulge 
 capriciously, for the child or pet who has been entrusted 
 to their care is liable to suffer in a way which they 
 can appreciate, if it does not receive its fair share of 
 attention. Thus they get the first inkling of the fact 
 that we have to consider the needs of others at least 
 as much as our own desires when we follow the 
 promptings of this impulse. 
 
 It is obviously of great importance to the com- 
 munity that this attitude of mind should be encouraged 
 in every possible way and it is therefore the business 
 
Some Important Impulses 45 
 
 of the school to provide the child with suitable ex- 
 perience. This could be done quite easily in connection 
 with children’s desire to help each other in their lessons, 
 if they were taught that it is right to help so long as 
 they give real help, that is to say, help which makes 
 the other child able to tackle his own difficulties with 
 greater success on the next occasion. Ina school which 
 has succeeded in establishing the right attitude towards 
 work, the older children would teach each other this 
 lesson without aid from the teachers, for the would-be 
 helper would find the wrong kind of help rejected with 
 scorn, and would thus be forced either to abandon the 
 task or to give help which is worth having. 
 
 Training of this kind, especially if supplemented by 
 similar training at home, should produce an individual 
 who is at least desirous of giving the right kind of aid 
 when need arises, and who is able both to give it with- 
 out any undue feeling of superiority and to receive it 
 without loss of self-respect. The giving of help to 
 those whom we consider our social inferiors raises 
 further difficulties. It will, however, be more con- 
 venient to study these in connection with sympathy 
 and pity in the chapter on emotion. 
 
 In conclusion, it may be worth while to warn the 
 reader that the protective impulse is very dependent on 
 the environment for the “inlets” and “outlets” it 
 acquires, because acts that were originally prompted by 
 
46 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 it may easily be repeated to satisfy the love of self. 
 Thus children who are continually helping others with- 
 out receiving similar help themselves and children who 
 give away their toys in the sure knowledge that they 
 will be replaced in the immediate future are practically 
 being taught to use helping and giving as outlets for 
 self-assertiveness. If this attitude of mind becomes 
 fixed, such children are likely to grow into individuals 
 who are more interested in the publicity than in the 
 value of their help. It is, of course, not to be expected 
 that an act of help should be free from every tinge of 
 self-assertion, since any such act necessarily gives us 
 a feeling of power and thus reacts on our love of self. 
 What is wanted is that the act should be due primarily 
 to the desire to help and only secondarily and in a 
 minor degree to the love of self. 
 
 (6) The Impulse to Investigate 
 
 Things which are strange or new arouse in us the 
 desire to find out more about them unless they are 
 either of a nature to cause fear or so much outside the 
 sphere of our interests—whether permanent or tempo- 
 rary—that they do not attract our attention at all. Thus 
 a sudden fall in the barometer is likely to stimulate the 
 curiosity of the budding meteorolgist, to whom it means 
 a chance of putting his knowledge to the test, whereas 
 it may rouse fear in the sailor, who thinks that it 
 
Some Important Impulses 47 
 
 forbodes an exceptionally severe gale, and may leave a 
 third person quite indifferent, either because he does 
 not understand barometers, or because the recorded fall 
 only suggests the possibility of a heavy shower at a 
 time when the state of the weather is of no interest to 
 him. The case with which we are concerned in this 
 section is the first, namely, that in which there is just 
 enough knowledge to rouse the desire for more, and no 
 occasion to experience fear. _ 
 
 It is sometimes said that the young child is more 
 curious than the adult, but this is hardly a correct 
 statement of the case. The young child comes across 
 so many things that are new to him that he is con- 
 tinually having experiences which puzzle him. He is, 
 however, satisfied with very superficial answers to his 
 queries: the child of two usually only wants the name 
 of an object: this is a book, that a doll. A little later he 
 begins to ask, What is this for? Why is that? but very 
 simple answers are still sufficient; a child of four will 
 for instance be quite satisfied, if he is told, ““Because the 
 sun has gone down,” in answer to the question, ‘“Why 
 is it getting dark?” This superficial curiosity must of 
 necessity decrease as the child’s knowledge of his 
 environment increases; on the other hand, such 
 questions as he asks tend to become more searching, 
 for every explanation itself suggests a further problem: 
 thus, the child who knows that the ‘‘sun goes down’”’ at 
 
48 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 night will presently begin to wonder why it goes, or 
 where it goes. How a child’s desire for knowledge 
 develops at this stage depends largely on his environ- 
 ment, for he is still absolutely dependent on others for 
 answers to his problems. If he is made to feel that it 
 is “naughty” to worry his elders with questions, or if 
 he is given explanations which he himself knows to 
 be inadequate or incorrect, he is likely to give up his 
 attempts in despair, and turn his attention to some- 
 thing else. (Cf. account of “Anna” in Chapter V, pp. 
 84-85. ) 
 
 In the average environment the people on whom the 
 child depends for his knowledge will answer some 
 questions more readily than others, with the result that 
 he gets to know more about certain classes of things 
 and therefore presently becomes more interested in 
 them, though the others still present numerous problems 
 which he would gladly tackle, if he had the chance. 
 At the age of ten or eleven many an intelligent child 
 wonders whether he will ever get like those dull adults 
 who seem to be quite satisfied to go through the world 
 without understanding half the interesting things 
 which are going on around them. By the time he is 
 eighteen he has, however, usually learnt the necessity 
 of confining his investigations to a few problems, if 
 he has not, indeed, given them up altogether as the 
 result of lack of opportunity or lack of time. Adoles- 
 
Some Important Impulses 49 
 
 cence is thus the period during which the impulse to 
 investigate is normally driven into more or less fixed 
 channels, with the result that the youth’s superficial 
 interest in all kinds of things decreases while his in- 
 terest in a few special pursuits becomes greater and 
 deeper. These pursuits need not, of course, be utili- 
 tarian in any sense of the word. When the impulse to 
 investigate is at work by itself, we want to find out a 
 thing merely in order to know more about it, and are 
 not concerned with the material gain or loss which such 
 knowledge may involve. 
 
 Under favourable circumstances the impulse will 
 drive us to intellectual efforts throughout life. As 
 things are at. present, economic conditions unfortu- 
 nately often cause it to deteriorate during later 
 adolescence, for monotony of life tends to deprive the 
 individual of the necessary stimulus and too long hours 
 at mechanical work leave him no energy for strenuous 
 mental effort in his leisure moments. Thus, many a 
 bright, promising youth finds after some years of 
 factory life that his neighbours’ affairs and sensational 
 stories give him all the mental food he needs. Yet it 
 is of the greatest social importance that the impulse 
 should be encouraged in any one who has enough 
 ability to turn it to good account, for we owe most of 
 our inventions and discoveries to it. The desire to 
 investigate is, moreover, the only force which makes us 
 
50 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 want to find out things that are of no immediate use 
 to us by urging us to work at our problems for the 
 sheer love of the work. Thanks to it, men will spend 
 their lives in investigations which seem to lead nowhere 
 so far as practical applications are concerned until the 
 world is suddenly startled by a discovery of such 
 obvious practical value as for instance that of X-ray 
 photography. 
 
 On the whole, the impulse to investigate is probably 
 of greater value to the group than to the individual ; 
 in primitive life it must indeed often have led the 
 unwary investigator to his own destruction. His group 
 would, however, receive benefit from his work whether 
 he succeeded or failed, for his success would increase 
 their knowledge or power, whereas his failure would, 
 at least, prevent those who were present from making 
 the same mistake. Under modern conditions the risk 
 to the individuals is not so great, but it is, of course, a 
 common thing for the inventor of a really valuable 
 mechanism to reap little or no material benefit from his 
 work, 
 
 (7) The Impulse to Collect 
 
 Every one who has dealt with young children knows 
 that they go through a stage when they seem to enjoy 
 collecting for its own sake. It may be that we have 
 here the stirring of an ancient impulse similar to that 
 
Some Important Impulses 51 
 
 which makes the squirrel collect its store of nuts. It 
 has, however, become a true impulse in human beings, 
 for it depends entirely on his environment and on his 
 more or less fixed interests what a particular individual 
 happens to collect. At five years of age town children 
 are usually satisfied with tramway tickets or cigarette 
 cards, later most boys at any rate turn to stamps, later 
 still rare flowers or fossils may have their turn. During 
 adolescence the individual grows too self-conscious to 
 remain satisfied with purposeless accumulations of odds 
 and ends, and the things he collects (e.g. botany speci- 
 mens) have, therefore, to be of some value to him, that 
 is to say they have to satisfy his self-assertion or his 
 desire to know as well as his impulse to collect; but in 
 this modified form the impulse stays with us throughout 
 life; it makes some amass property, others books, 
 others china, etc. As in the case of the child, what we 
 collect depends on our interests and on our opportu- 
 nities; but there are very few individuals who are not 
 at least trying to satisfy this impulse in some way or 
 other. 
 
 (8) The Impulse to Construct 
 
 Another impulse which is of great importance to 
 the educator is the impulse to construct or make. In 
 its pure form this impulse simply urges us to be 
 making, without any regard for the value of the ob- 
 
52 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 ject we produce, The joy lies in the making as such; 
 once the deed is done it only continues to give us 
 pleasure in so far as it satisfies some other desire. 
 We have reason to believe that the impulse to con- 
 struct develops at a very early age. Thus the way in 
 which some babies invent a language of their own, 
 instead of adopting that of their environment, suggests 
 that it may already be active at the age of twelve to 
 eighteen months, though the child has as yet too little 
 control over his environment to do much to satisfy 
 it. Every one who has watched babies must have 
 observed that the child sets to work on his environ- 
 ment as soon as he has the necessary control over his 
 muscles. At first he is only investigating and ex- 
 perimenting. At this stage he feels, tastes and pulls 
 to pieces everything that comes within his reach and 
 thus gets his first knowledge of the things around 
 him. By the age of two and a half he has, however, 
 usually begun to make as well as destroy, though it is 
 at times difficult to say whether it is the making or 
 the experimenting which he is enjoying. A child will, 
 for instance, build up a heap of bricks again and again, 
 only to throw them down with a bang. Then gradu- 
 ally, as his knowledge of his little world increases, he 
 spends more and more time in constructing. At first 
 bricks, clay, sand and coloured chalks are his best 
 material, but as his control over his muscles increases 
 
Some Important Impulses 53 
 
 he is ready to learn the use of a hammer, saw, needle, 
 etc., and thus becomes able to handle less tractable 
 material. At the age of six or seven he begins to con- 
 struct in the realm of ideas as well, making up stories 
 of his own or inventing imaginative games. Later, he 
 may try inventing puzzles or setting himself problems 
 for his own solution; thus a child of eight who had 
 exceptional facility for number work set himself to find 
 out exactly how many hours he had lived. How a 
 particular child develops must, of course, depend partly 
 on his natural ability and partly on his environment, 
 but no normal child is without the impulse to make, 
 and it is therefore important to see that he learns to 
 use it to his advantage. 
 
 Like the impulse to investigate, the impulse to con- 
 struct tends to remain active in its pure form through- 
 out life. Any one who doubts this should watch 
 parents helping children to make sand castles or fly 
 kites or build and sail toy boats. It is true that the 
 parents begin in order to please the children, but they 
 often get so interested in their task that they are 
 seriously annoyed, if the young helper does some- 
 thing which spoils their work, even though it obviously 
 adds to his enjoyment to see whether he cannot do this 
 bit by himself. 
 
 The strength and permanence of the impulse to 
 construct and the impulse to investigate should be borne 
 
54 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 in mind by all educators. Anything which involves 
 making always attracts children of all ages, and if it 
 necessitates finding out how to make as a preliminary 
 stage, it is even more popular, so long as the task is 
 not too difficult and there are no artificial penalties 
 attached to failure and waste of material. As in every 
 other case, so here again, success feeds the love of self, 
 but it is the fault of the environment if it does this 
 unduly. Under favourable conditions the effects of 
 such training are to help the pupil to find his level, to 
 teach him to think for himself to the best of his ability, 
 and hence to divert his love of making into channels 
 in which he is likely to achieve something. In this 
 way his training during childhood and adolescence may 
 enable the individual to produce work of value to him- 
 self and to his community; but even if it is not able 
 to achieve this, it will at any rate add greatly to his 
 power of enjoying life, by providing him with hobbies 
 which make it possible for him to satisfy the ever- 
 active impulse to construct. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 SENTIMENTS AND COMPLEXES 
 
 A. The Sentiment as a Centre of Potential Activity. 
 B. The Origin and Growth of Sentiments :— 
 (1) The part played by impulsive activity. 
 
 (2) The part played by the environment. 
 The influence of the parent. 
 The influence of the community. 
 The meaning and function of hero worship. 
 
 (3) The part played by the “self.” 
 C. The Effect of Sentiments on the Formation of Habits and 
 
 Judgments. 
 D. Mind-Tunnelling by the Method of Free Associations :— 
 
 (1) Description of the method. 
 (2) Repressed complexes and their effect on behaviour. 
 (3) The value of mind-tunnelling in connection with 
 repressed complexes. 
 E. Gregariousness as a Centre of Potential Activity :— 
 
 (1) The psychology of gregariousness. 
 (2) The relation of gregariousness to love of approval, 
 suggestion and imitation. 
 
 A. The Sentiment as a Centre of Potential Activity 
 
 It has been shown in the preceding chapters that all 
 
 voluntary action is primarily due to impulse. But 
 55 
 
56 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 impulse is always momentary. In so far as life is 
 governed by it, each moment is sufficient unto itself, 
 and it is therefore impossible to regulate action with 
 regard to future ends or to feel regret for past mis- 
 takes. Many animals never rise above this level; in 
 human beings it is, however, merely a stage of develop- 
 ment that is passed through during the first months 
 of life. As is well known, the attention of a baby is 
 easily attracted now to this, now to that; his desires 
 are merely momentary, and a thing need only disappear 
 in order to be forgotten. But even the child of two 
 is not so easily satisfied in regard to things he really 
 knows, such as his favourite doll or the dog who 
 jumped at him, for he is beginning to develop fixed 
 likes and dislikes, or “sentiments,” as they are called 
 technically. (For definition of sentiment, see p. 59.) 
 
 There is no limit to the persons, animals or things 
 for whom we can form sentiments, since there is no 
 limit to the objects of thought which we can learn to 
 like or dislike. Popular usage has provided us with 
 special names for certain types. Thus we call the oc- 
 cupations we like our interests or hobbies, and the 
 standards of behaviour of which we approve our prin- 
 ciples, or, if difficult to realise in practice, our ideals. 
 In the case of persons, we can even distinguish between 
 various grades of likes and dislikes, for we talk of 
 friends, enemies and “mere acquaintances.” 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _—_57 
 
 It will be evident that sentiments are of the greatest 
 importance in the development of the individual. In 
 so far as he has formed fixed likes and dislikes, he will 
 necessarily have fixed desires, and in so far as he has 
 fixed desires, he will act consistently, and will therefore 
 attain far more than while entirely under the sway of 
 impulse. An example may make this clear. The 
 child of three or four who is left to his own devices 
 with a mechanical toy usually tries to pull it to pieces 
 in order to find out what makes it go, but once he has 
 broken it he quickly loses all interest in it, for the 
 separate parts mean nothing to him. The boy of nine 
 or ten who is interested in mechanisms also likes to pull 
 such a toy to pieces, but he will occupy himself with 
 it for a much longer time, because he will have a certain 
 amount of knowledge which he can bring to bear on 
 the problems it presents. His interest in mechanisms 
 also has other important consequences: it stimulates 
 him to learn more about them, and thus leads him to 
 examine them or to ask questions about points that 
 puzzle him. If his desire to learn is really strong, 
 it also teaches him the value of perseverance in the face 
 of difficulty and may even enable him to overcome 
 some contrary tendency such as dislike for reading or 
 indifference to accuracy. Under favourable circum- 
 stances his interest in mechanics can therefore make a 
 boy act consistently towards one end and subordinate 
 
58 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 such impulses and sentiments as are inimical to that 
 end. 
 
 Once a sentiment has been formed it may under 
 suitable conditions rouse any of our impulses. Thus 
 the love parents feel for their child will make them 
 fear anything likely to hurt him and attack any one 
 unjust to him. It may also make them collect (1. e. 
 save) for his benefit, or investigate various problems 
 connected with his welfare. Similarly a student’s in- 
 terest in botany may make him fear that he may not 
 be able to find sufficient time for it or dislike persons 
 who try to interfere with his studies. If the sentiment 
 is strong enough, it may even set free enough self- 
 assertion to enable him to overcome a strong dislike 
 for some other subject which he needs for his chosen 
 line of study. On the other hand, it is impossible for 
 the student to feel indifferent about anything which 
 concerns his progress in botany, just as it is impos- 
 sible for the parent to feel indifferent about anything 
 which he considers connected with the welfare of his 
 child. Obviously both student and parent may think 
 it wise to seem indifferent on a particular occasion, but 
 that is then due to the activity of some other, contrary 
 tendency. 
 
 Thus a sentiment for any object of thought (that is to 
 say, the child and the botany in our last two examples) 
 ensures that we are interested in anything which affects 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _59 
 
 that object and that we act consistently in regard to 
 it, in so far as we are not checked by other contrary 
 tendencies. A sentiment may therefore be defined as 
 a system of impulses organised round the idea of some 
 object of thought, in such a way as to ensure consist- 
 ency of behaviour in regard to that object, except in 
 so far as this is prevented by the activity of other 
 contrary tendencies.} 
 
 Although it was convenient to describe sentiments 
 as likes and dislikes in the first instance, this would 
 not be satisfactory as a definition, for it suggests that 
 they are mere attitudes of mind, whereas they are 
 really centres of potential activity of which we become 
 aware through our likes and dislikes. They are, in 
 fact, somewhat like the batteries which are used for 
 storing electrical power, the “object” of the sentiment 
 being represented by the mechanism of the battery, the 
 requisite percept or idea by an operator who is able 
 to discharge the battery, the acts and thoughts which 
 can be produced in this way by the motors and lamps 
 to which the operator can distribute the stored power 
 and the energy of which we are aware when a senti- 
 
 *Mr. Shand, to whom psychology owes this use of the term 
 “sentiment,” defines it as a system of “emotional tendencies.” As 
 his use of the term “emotion” is, however, rather different from 
 that adopted here, it seems better to modify his definition as 
 above. 
 
60 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 ment is being stimulated by the power which he is 
 setting free. 
 
 B. The Origin and Growth of Sentiments 
 
 (1) The Part Played by Impulsive Activity.— 
 While the environment provides as it were the raw 
 material for sentiments, it would be a mistake to sup- 
 pose that two children who are brought up in identical 
 surroundings would necessarily acquire the same 
 centres of potential activity, for there is undoubtedly 
 something within the individua! which decides how his 
 impulses become organised round various objects of 
 thought. Some are frightened when others are 
 angered; some enjoy constructive or inventive work 
 to an extent which seems quite incredible to others. 
 These individual differences are, of course, partly due 
 to differences of environment; but they must be partly 
 innate, for they can be observed in quite young child- 
 ren. Moreover the same child differs from day to 
 day. There are times when he is not happy unless he 
 is making or creating, and these are followed by others 
 when he seems to have lost all initiative. It is dif- 
 ficult to account for these phenomena unless we assume 
 that impulses can in some way become surcharged 
 with energy from the self-preservative and race-pre- 
 servative centres and that this energy will then expend 
 itself on any object, however unpromising, if it can- 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _ 61 
 
 not find an outlet through an established sentiment. 
 This may be called true “impulsive activity.” It is 
 characteristic of children rather than of adults, for 
 impulsive energy seems to discharge through estab- 
 lished centres of potential activity whenever there are 
 such at its disposal.? 
 
 When an overflow of energy has caused an im- 
 pulse to expend itself on some new object, the result 
 may be pleasant or unpleasant. In either case the 
 object is henceforth a matter of interest to self, and 
 thus a centre of potential activity. If the result was 
 pleasant, that object is likely to be chosen purpose- 
 fully, if unpleasant, it is likely to be avoided when next 
 that impulse is in need of an outlet. What happens 
 thereafter depends on circumstances. The little child 
 who is expending his constructive impulse on clay- 
 modelling and on pencil-drawing may discover that the 
 clay model looks more like the real thing, or that it 
 receives more praise from his elders. In either case 
 he will learn to prefer the clay to the pencil: in an un- 
 wise environment he may even take a lasting dislike 
 
 1What is loosely termed an “impulsive” act is often only due 
 to the activity of a centre of which we are not aware. The 
 reader will find later that centres of potential activity can affect 
 our behaviour without our being aware of their existence (cf. 
 Repressed Complexes, p. 83). The term impulsive activity should, 
 however, be restricted to cases in which acts are performed for 
 
 the first time under the pressure of an impulse which is sur- 
 charged with energy. 
 
62 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 to pencil-work. All the same, clay ceases to provide 
 a satisfactory outlet for his constructive impulse when 
 he is a little older, for he then wants to make toys that 
 “work’’ and consequently prefers to use cardboard 
 or wood. From the adult’s point of view he has lost 
 his interest in clay-modelling and has taken a fancy to 
 cardboard-modelling or woodwork instead. What has 
 really happened is that he has had to find a new out- 
 let for his constructive impulse, because the clay is no 
 longer able to satisfy his needs. In other words, an 
 interest only lasts so long as it satisfies a need of the 
 self, and since the needs of a child change as his powers 
 develop, it is not strange to find that his interests are, 
 as a rule, very unstable. The same applies to his 
 other sentiments, and the reason is also the same. We 
 have to remember that the child is still learning the 
 meaning of experiences which the adult has “under- 
 stood” for many a year. In this process he necessarily 
 makes mistakes, and when he feels that he has made 
 one, he thereby destroys or modifies one or other of 
 his sentiments. 
 
 As we grow older, our sentiments tend to become 
 more permanent, because we gradually succeed in 
 classifying our common experiences to our own satis- 
 faction. All the same, we continue to form senti- 
 ments as long as we are mentally active and some of 
 these are always temporary, because they depend on 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 63 
 
 temporary circumstances. Thus a worker is often 
 afraid of a new mechanism until he has learnt to control 
 it, but once he is master of the situation, he is likely to 
 grow more and more careless, until his very self- 
 assurance causes him to expose himself to a serious 
 accident. In such a case the organisation of impulses 
 round the idea of the mechanism has gradually changed 
 from one in which fear was the main factor to one in 
 which self-assertion is predominant. In other cases 
 the adult, like the child, may lose all interest in an oc- 
 cupation because it is no longer able to give him the 
 stimulus he requires; it may merely have grown too 
 easy to be attractive. 
 
 (2) The Part Played by the Environment.—We 
 have seen that sentiments may owe their existence to 
 an experimental overflow of energy. At first many 
 centres of potential activity must come into existence 
 in this way, for the environment has at first no mean- 
 ing for the child. It would be convenient to have a 
 special term for these systems (which we probably 
 share with many of the higher animals), but there is 
 at present no recognised name for them. We shall 
 here call them primitive complexes, for the word sen- 
 timent implies a degree of self-consciousness which the 
 baby does not acquire for some time (and which most 
 animals probably do not acquire at all). As the child 
 becomes aware of himself as an individual, these 
 
64 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 “primitive complexes” become true sentiments in so 
 far as they satisfy the needs of the self. The range 
 of his activities is, however, no longer limited by 
 chance discoveries, for his behaviour is influenced 
 increasingly by other forces, such as love of power 
 or desire for approval, and these cause him to engage 
 in occupations in which some of his impulses are only 
 satisfied incidentally. 
 
 What centres of potential activity he acquires will, 
 of course, still depend to some extent on the innate 
 characteristics of his impulses, but the influence of the 
 environment makes itself felt more and more strongly 
 as the child begins to be able to put meaning into his 
 experience. In order to see how energy is diverted 
 from one object of thought to another and what is 
 the part played by the self in the process, it will be 
 necessary to trace some of our sentiments back to their 
 origin. Theoretically this should not be a difficult task, 
 but the reader will find that it is often impossible in 
 practice. We seem always to have thought this right 
 and that wrong, to have liked this person and disliked 
 that other, or, again, we seem to have conceived a sud- 
 den fancy for some person, thing or idea, and that 
 fancy seems to have come from nowhere so far as we 
 can tell. 
 
 If we leave these aside for the moment, we are left 
 with a certain number of cases in which it seems pos- 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _—_ 65 
 
 sible to give a satisfactory explanation. Introspection 
 seems to show that the sentiments for which we can 
 account owe their existence either to other previously 
 established sentiments or to some severe emotional 
 shock. Under the first heading come many of our 
 interests, for these can usually be shown to have 
 developed out of pursuits which we first took up under 
 the influence of some one we admired. Under the 
 second heading come such sentiments as the fear of 
 bathing induced by a narrow escape from drowning 
 in childhood, or lifelong admiration for another person 
 originated by the skill with which he helped us at a 
 critical moment. It should be noticed that the second 
 type really depends as much as the first on previously 
 established sentiments, for there would have been no 
 emotional shock had there been no love of living in the 
 one case, or desire to succeed in the other. We may 
 therefore conclude that all sentiments which we can 
 trace to their origin are derived from other previously 
 established sentiments of one kind or another. 
 
 If we now examine the sentiments that seem to come 
 from nowhere, we shall see that most of these are 
 formed in the same way. To the young child the adult 
 is a wonderful person who can do all kinds of marvel- 
 lous things which he finds difficult or impossible to 
 copy. During the earliest years of his life, the child 
 is, moreover, absolutely dependent on his parents. Com- 
 
66 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 pared with his weakness and ignorance, they must 
 seem all-powerful and all-wise. Hence they are 
 normally his first heroes. If they praise an act, that 
 act is worth copying, or if it was impulsive, it is worth 
 repeating; if they like a person, that person must be 
 “nice,” even though the child at first dislikes both act 
 and person. Thus he adopts their point of view, or 
 what he imagines to be their point of view, through 
 sheer prestige suggestion. Our oldest sentiments are 
 therefore to be traced back to those earliest years of 
 life for which our memory is notoriously bad. This 
 accounts for the impression that we have “always” 
 had them. 
 
 As for the love of the child for his parents, that is 
 at first largely, if not entirely, cupboard love.t As 
 soon as he is able to distinguish his mother from other 
 persons, everything she does for him must strengthen 
 the impression that she is the giver of good things. 
 Thus the idea of “mother” soon becomes closely con- 
 nected with the idea of “giver of good things.” In 
 technical language these ideas become so closely as- 
 sociated one with the other that each tends before long 
 
 *I was watching lately a class of mentally deficient children 
 whose mental development was that of children aged four to 
 six. The teacher asked them: “Why do you love your mother ?” 
 She wanted the answer, “Because mother loves me.” She got, 
 “Because mother makes puddings.” “Because mother puts me 
 to bed.” “Because mother gives me pennies,” etc., etc. 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _ 67 
 
 to produce the other of its own accord. The child goes 
 confidently to his parents, if he wants something and 
 is willing to believe that even the medicine and the 
 punishments which they mete out are really intended 
 for his good. From a very early age there is mixed 
 with this a desire for fondling and petting, which is 
 the first indication of “love” in the ordinary sense of 
 the word. It is, however, entirely egotistic at this 
 stage, and therefore really only a particular form of 
 “cupboard love.” 
 
 Later the sentiment grows in complexity. Watch- 
 ing their parents as closely as they do, children soon 
 discover that the attitude of father towards mother 
 differs in some respects from that of mother towards 
 father. As soon as they have reached this stage, the 
 little boy tries to imitate his father, the little girl her 
 mother, and this necessarily affects their sentiments 
 for the parent of the opposite sex, e.g. the mother is 
 now for the boy not only the giver of good things, but 
 also some one he must look after and protect. 
 
 A further stage is reached when the child has realised 
 the existence of a community outside his own family 
 circle. Unless he is exceptionally unfortunate in his 
 parents, he discovers that they are respected by other 
 members of their group, and that at least one or other 
 of them is the leader of some section of it. Various 
 forces within him are urging him to go and do like- 
 
68 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 wise. He is therefore impressed by the fact that his 
 parents have attained in the world of adults the very 
 thing for which he is struggling among his school- 
 fellows, and his sentiment towards his parents is thus 
 once again increased in complexity. 
 
 For the present purpose the important thing to 
 notice is that the child of five or six has under normal 
 conditions learnt to love and admire his parents, and 
 has for some time already been sufficiently conscious 
 of himself as an individual to do his utmost to imitate 
 them at all points. When he comes to school, he is 
 for the first time exposed to the influence of public 
 opinion, and it is therefore important to know how this 
 will affect the development of the sentiments which he 
 has acquired at home. Observation seems to show 
 that he readily falls in with those things which are in 
 accordance with, or at least not contrary to, his home 
 training, and that he struggles against, but as a rule 
 succumbs to, those things which do not fit in with 
 it. 
 
 This is especially the case with the child who is first 
 exposed to contrary influences at the age of eight or 
 ten. At this stage the desire to form into gangs has 
 become fairly strong, with the result that the child 
 longs above all things to be like his companions, and 
 will often do things which he “knows” to be wrong 
 rather than expose himself to their ridicule. 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _—_ 69 
 
 Here is a case in point. In a certain private school 
 some girls of eight had an oral composition lesson. 
 The composition was written on the blackboard and 
 the children were told to write it out from memory for 
 homework. After the lesson the leader of a small 
 group suggested that they should climb in at the 
 window in the afternoon and copy the story from the 
 board, as the teacher had been stupid enough not to rub 
 it off. One of her followers privately thought this 
 “very silly,” but she climbed in with the others rather 
 than protest or exclude herself. 
 
 If part of the environment is unfavourable, the child 
 may in this way gradually develop two standards of 
 conduct—one for home and one for school. If either 
 the father or the mother has a strong personality, he 
 will, however, continue to think that the home stand- 
 ards are the “right” ones, even though experience may 
 have taught him that the others are better policy. How 
 far he will ultimately return to these home standards 
 will depend on his later environment. In a community 
 in which social functions absorb the activities of the 
 majority, the student feels ashamed of his love of 
 books, even though he goes on with his studies. Ina 
 community in which all amusement is held to be wicked, 
 the young girl feels equally ashamed of her longing 
 for harmless pleasures. When home and community 
 work together, the rebellious individual is almost cer- 
 
70 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 tain to succumb to the pressure brought to bear upon 
 him, unless indeed the person who roused his opposi- 
 tion is able and willing to stand by him. * (His rebel- 
 lion may, of course, be due to some book that happens 
 to have come his way.) When home and community 
 are at variance and about equally influential, the 
 adolescent frequently adopts one standard for home 
 and another for public life, for the community never 
 ceases to be an important factor in the determination 
 of behaviour, and it is only the exceptionally strong 
 individual who dares to ignore public opinion. 
 
 We have so far discussed the development of senti- 
 ments as though they could be traced entirely to the 
 child’s admiration for his parents and to the pressure 
 of the environment. To complete our description we 
 must now turn to the psychology of friendship and 
 hero-worship. 
 
 As is well known, hero-worship accounts for a num- 
 ber of sentiments during adolescence and friendships 
 play their part in this respect throughout life. On 
 examination friendship will, I think, be found to be 
 merely a mild form of hero-worship. There is usually 
 one who leads and one who follows; in the best forms 
 of friendship each is the leader in some pursuits, the 
 follower in others, and each therefore respects the 
 other. If we bear this in mind, we may assume that 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 71 
 
 whatever is true of hero-worship applies in a lesser 
 degree to friendship. There is, therefore, no need to 
 discuss them separately. 
 
 Hero-worship is, of course, particularly character- 
 istic of adolescence, but it must not be supposed that 
 every case one meets at school is necessarily genuine. 
 The average youth feels that he is in some way at 
 fault, if he cannot admire the master or mistress and 
 the elder boy or girl who happen to be the fashion 
 for the time being. He is therefore quite capable of 
 persuading himself into a sort of sham hero-worship, 
 rather than own to himself that he is lacking in this 
 respect. Hero-worship that owes its origin to nothing 
 deeper than this is not likely to have any lasting effect. 
 But at other times the young adolescent does feel 
 genuinely drawn towards some riper person. Oc- 
 casionally his devotion may even become strong enough 
 to absorb his whole being, so that the notice and 
 approval of his hero alone make life worth living and 
 his neglect causes suffering far more severe than the 
 adult would as a rule think possible. In a few ab- 
 normal instances such neglect is actually said to have 
 been responsible for suicide, but even in the normal 
 healthy case, in which the devotion is not extreme, it 
 is none the less a force with which the educator has 
 to reckon, for it sets free energy which is, so to speak, 
 at the service of the elder. Properly directed, it may 
 
72 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 be used to help the young admirers to overcome their 
 faults and to develop new interests, misused, it may 
 be frittered away in such trivialities as carrying books 
 or bringing flowers. 
 
 The question naturally arises, whence comes this — 
 hero-worship, which in its milder forms is a normal 
 stage in the development of every individual? To give 
 a complete answer to this question would take us 
 beyond the limits of this book. We shall therefore 
 quote results and take the proofs for granted. It 
 has been shown by the researches of Freud, Jung and 
 others that hero-worship is an intermediate stage 
 through which the adolescent has to pass in the process 
 of becoming an independent individual, capable of 
 founding a family of his own. In childhood his parents 
 fill his horizon, he takes them as his model for every- 
 thing, he desires to please them above everything. If 
 one of his parents has a personality much stronger 
 than his own, his development may be arrested at this 
 stage; then we get the full-grown man who remains 
 “tied to the apron-strings of his mother.’’ Normally, 
 the individual manages to free himself from too great 
 domination of his parents during the period of adol- 
 escence. His first attempt in this direction is usually 
 to find what seems like a partial substitute for them, 
 though it is not an “attempt” in the ordinary sense of 
 the word, for he has no idea what is happening to him. 
 
Sentiments and Complexes —=_73 
 
 He only realises that he feels strangely drawn towards 
 this or that person. 
 
 In order to understand this phenomenon we have 
 to get some insight into the possibilities of the un- 
 conscious part of our minds. That part of the mind 
 is unconscious, every one has probably had occasion 
 to notice in regard to memory and thought. The 
 easiest way to recall, say, a name one has forgotten, 
 is usually to wait until it comes back of its own accord; 
 that is to say, to leave it to the unconscious to find it. 
 The quickest way to solve a difficult problem is often 
 to put it aside for the time being and to come back to 
 it later on. This is true even if we have not worked 
 long enough to fatigue ourselves. All that is essential 
 is that we should be thoroughly interested in our quest. 
 Then the mind goes on working at it below the surface 
 of consciousness while we are consciously attending 
 to other things, and we therefore come to it better pre- 
 pared on the second occasion. Sometimes we may even 
 wake up in the middle of the night with the solution 
 for a problem which has been worrying us all day. 
 
 What is not so generally known is that impulses can 
 behave like memory and reason in this respect. Modern 
 analytical psychology (1.e. the work of Freud, Jung 
 and others) has taught us that there may even be serious 
 conflicts going on below the surface without our know- 
 ing anything about them. This happens when we re- 
 
74 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 press desires of which we are ashamed, instead of 
 facing them squarely and fighting them in the open 
 as it were. For impulses and sentiments cannot be 
 killed; the choice always lies between diverting their 
 energy into different channels and hiding or “repress- 
 ing’ them. 
 
 Perhaps the most difficult conflict that the human 
 mind has to face is one which every individual has to 
 tackle, if he is to become an independent member of 
 society. This conflict begins as soon as the child is 
 deprived of the undivided attention of his mother or 
 nurse and has consequently too much “power to love” 
 at his disposal. Under normal circumstances most of 
 the energy that is set free in this way is gradually 
 absorbed in childish friendships and in various other 
 sentiments. Between the ages of four and seven most 
 children are absolutely absorbed in discovering their 
 own powers and their relation to persons and things, 
 and at this stage their little efforts to try their powers 
 are usually welcomed by those in authority. As a 
 child grows older and stronger, Nature urges him more 
 and more fiercely to go his own way and to learn from 
 his own experience. On the other hand, his parents 
 usually set very narrow limits on what they consider 
 it safe for him to try, and his love and admiration 
 for them make him feel that it is wrong to disobey 
 them, The result is that he is often faced with a 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 75 
 
 serious conflict of desires at the early age of nine or 
 ten, and this conflict tends to grow more serious during 
 the next few years, because the boy is then old enough 
 to feel ashamed of it and consequently to repress such 
 portions of it as come to the surface of conscious- 
 ness. In the course of this process some of the energy 
 or power to love which was originally centred round 
 the parent, or in himself, seems to be set free and 
 transferred to some one else. This substitute may or 
 may not bear some resemblance to one of his parents; 
 what is essential is that he should seem to have some 
 quality or power which the youth is able to appreciate, 
 or that he should by actual experience prove to the 
 youth that he is able to show him new and desirable 
 outlets for his powers. Thus boys make a hero of a 
 master because he is a fine athlete, because they enjoy 
 being taught by him, and so forth. In all such cases 
 the master provides a safety-valve for the superfluous 
 energy of his young admirers, and it therefore depends 
 on him whether they use it wisely. 
 
 (3) The Part Played by the “Self.’—In the course 
 of this section we have seen: (1) that sentiments owe 
 their existence to the pressure of some strong impulse 
 or to that of one or more previously established centres 
 of potential activity; (2) that primitive complexes 
 which are formed by impulsive activity only develop 
 into permanent sentiments in so far as they affect the 
 
76 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 individual’s conscious love of self; and (3) that other 
 sentiments can all be traced back step by step until we 
 come to that same “love of self,’ or. “self-regard,” 
 as it is usually called. Self-regard is, therefore, the 
 primary sentiment from which all others derive their 
 energy. It probably comes into being at a very early 
 age, but it only affects behaviour spasmodically at first, 
 for love of self obviously presupposes consciousness of 
 self, and a child is usually two or three years of age 
 before he is fully aware that he is a little individual 
 with wants and powers of hisown. During this period, 
 he is entirely self-centred in so far as he is aware of 
 his “self,” for he is so busy finding out all about him- 
 self that he has little energy left for anything else, and 
 he is still so dependent on others that it is only natural 
 that he should be led to consider himself the centre of 
 his little universe. Such sentiments as he forms are 
 the outcome of this view of life; he likes those who 
 give him what he wants, he dislikes those who do not, 
 but beyond that he is not interested in others. As his 
 power over his environment increases, his idea of him- 
 self changes, and he is therefore no longer satisfied 
 with the things which pleased him at an earlier age. 
 In other words, early likes and dislikes tend to change 
 in value or disappear as one grows older. In so far 
 as energy is set free in this process, it may either be 
 transferred to other persons or things, or it may be 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 77 
 
 re-absorbed by the self. Thus the child who has lost 
 his interest in stamp-collecting may either find a new 
 outlet for his energy in some other occupation, or he 
 may merely spend so much more time in day-dream- 
 ing. What he does in a particular case, and whether 
 the new occupation is or is not desirable, will depend 
 partly on himself but to a much greater extent on his 
 environment, for the approval of those whom he re- 
 spects ministers to his self-regard and public opinion 
 is a force he dare not ignore. Thus it is the com- 
 munity which is at fault, if the growing boy or girl 
 fails to form sentiments of social value. If the en- 
 vironment fosters a social ideal of the “‘self,’ the 
 youth will try to be unselfish; if it fosters an ideal of 
 self-seeking, he will as readily grow selfish. 
 
 C. The Effect of Sentiments on the Formation of 
 Habits and Judgments 
 
 Once a sentiment has become established it tends to 
 stimulate the growth of habits, for it necessarily finds 
 expression in one or more fixed desires, and our efforts 
 to satisfy these desires will often cause us to acquire 
 new forms of activity. This point will be discussed 
 more fully in the chapter on the Growth and Control 
 of Habits (see Chapter VI). 
 
 Sentiments also affect our interpretation and judg- 
 
78 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 ment of the acts of others. If we like a person we 
 tend to judge his behaviour too leniently, if we dislike 
 him we tend to judge it too severely. Possibly we 
 must have caught ourselves in the act to realise to what 
 an extent we are capable of such an injustice, but oc- 
 casionally we have the opportunity of observing some- 
 thing of which we normally disapprove first in a person 
 whom we like and then, within a few hours or days, 
 in another whom we dislike. In such a case we find 
 ourselves (often to our own surprise) declaring it to 
 be a charming weakness in the first case, a further 
 proof of utter worthlessness in the second. And we 
 are really but little better off when we are aware of 
 this danger, for then our very desire to be just will 
 probably make us judge those we like too severely and 
 those we dislike too leniently. It is therefore impos- 
 sible to be quite fair in one’s judgment of any person 
 whom one either likes or dislikes. Moreover, since 
 one cannot judge a person at all without knowing 
 something about him, and cannot know anything about 
 him without conceiving, however slight, a like or dis- 
 like for him, it follows that it is impossible to judge 
 any one quite fairly. 
 
 Mr. Shand summarises the effect of sentiment on 
 behaviour as follows: “Every sentiment tends to in- 
 clude in its system all the emotions, thoughts, voli- 
 tional processes and qualities of character which are 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 79 
 
 of advantage to it for the attainment of its ends, and 
 to reject all such constituents as are either superfluous 
 or antagonistic.” (Foundations of Character, p. 106). 
 
 D. Mind-Tunnelling by the Method of Frea 
 Associations 
 
 (1) Description of the Method.—It will have been 
 observed that the work of this chapter has been largely 
 based on results obtained by students of modern ana- 
 lytical psychology. This is a branch of psychology 
 that is likely to become increasingly important to 
 teachers and students of education, for it often enables 
 us to explain behaviour which would seem capricious 
 or meaningless without its aid, and to recognise symp- 
 toms in their early stages before the underlying causes 
 have led to the formation of bad habits or of a wrong 
 attitude towards life. 
 
 The methods which the “analyst” employs are based 
 on what is technically known as the Law of Associa- 
 tion by Contiguity. This is stated by Bain as fol- 
 lows :— 
 
 “Actions, Sensations and States of Feeling, occur- 
 ring together or in close succession, tend to grow to- 
 gether or cohere in such a way that when any one of 
 them is afterwards present in the mind, the others are 
 apt to be brought up in ‘idea. 
 
 3°42 
 
 Let us suppose, for 
 
80 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 instance, that I learn to appreciate the perseverance 
 of a certain person in connection with a definite piece 
 of work. Then the chances are that my thoughts will 
 drift to that person when I think of that piece of work, 
 or when I think of the value of perseverance. Similarly 
 the thought of that person is likely to lead me to dwell 
 on the value of perseverance or on the piece of work 
 in question. What happens on a particular occasion 
 will, of course, depend on my interests at the moment. 
 Thus the Law of Association by Contiguity is merely 
 the Law of Habit applied to the sphere of thought. 
 If any idea ‘‘A’’ becomes associated with another “B,” 
 then there is henceforth a tendency for each to suggest 
 the other. The strength of this tendency will depend 
 partly on the amount of interest attached to the as- 
 sociation “AB,” and partly on the number of times 
 “A” and “B” have occurred together. The burnt child, 
 if seriously burnt, dreads the fire after one experience, 
 for the association between fire (A) and pain (B) 
 is of enough interest to the child to be remembered 
 for good. But the fact that 4 x 5=20 will usually 
 need several repetitions before it is remembered, for 
 there is, as a rule, but very moderate interest attached 
 to the process of counting four rows of five beans. 
 Association between ideas differ from habits of 
 action in one important aspect. Actions only become 
 connected in the order in which they are practised, | 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 81 
 
 but if the number of ideas have become connected 
 together, then any one of them has the power of 
 bringing back any of the others. In other words, as- 
 sociations of movements only work forwards, whereas 
 associations of ideas work backwards and forwards. 
 Thus even counting backwards is difficult without prac- 
 tice, but other things being equal, it is no more difficult 
 to work back from bed-time than to work forward 
 from tea-time, if one wants to recall what one was 
 doing at seven o’clock on a certain day. 
 
 It is this fact that has been turned to account in 
 analytical psychology. The whole of its complex 
 technique is based on what is termed the Method of 
 Free Associations. Fundamentally this consists in 
 letting the mind wander freely from subject to sub- 
 ject, without attempting to control the flow of thought 
 in any way. If this is done, things long ago “for- 
 gotten” or momentarily repressed come to the surface 
 of consciousness and enable us to explain acts that 
 seemed purposeless or fancies that are quite contrary 
 to the main trend of our character. 
 
 An example will make this point clearer. When I 
 was trying to choose a suitable illustration in the last 
 paragraph, I thought first of a “certain type of 
 ability,” then of “‘skill,” but neither satisfied me, though 
 it obviously did: not matter much what word I used. 
 Then “perseverance” came, and immediately I felt it 
 
82 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 to be the “right word.” I stopped to wonder why. I 
 had just before been writing up my notes on a certain 
 feeble-minded girl, and had come across the entry: | 
 “Not lacking in perseverance, spent five minutes trying 
 to thread a needle with cotton too coarse for it. I 
 finally persuaded her to give it up.” This came back 
 to my mind now and seemed sufficient explanation for 
 the moment, though there was no reason why that 
 entry should have caught my eye rather than several 
 others. It was not till I wrote the words “Method of 
 Free Associations” that I understood that part of the 
 problem. ‘Perseverance’ immediately flashed across 
 my mind again, this time as being essential in the ap- 
 plication of this method. That explained why I had 
 noticed that particular entry. I was intending to write 
 this section as soon as I had written up my notes. I 
 have often of late had cause to realise that much per- 
 severance is needed in order to succeed with this 
 method, and though I was not consciously thinking 
 of that aspect of it at the time, it had evidently been 
 stirred to activity below the surface of consciousness. 
 That is why that entry caught my eye, and that is why 
 “perseverance” seemed the “right word” for my illus- 
 tration. If the reader will try similar experiments, 
 he will often find explanations for acts which are at 
 first sight quite as purposeless as the one I have just 
 described. 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _— 83 
 
 (2) Repressed Complexes and their Effect on Be- 
 haviour.—If we repress, 1.e. refuse to think about an 
 experience we have had, it is either because it was ex- 
 ceptionally painful or because it has in some way hurt 
 our self-respect. In little children the knowledge of 
 conventions is so slight that the feeling of shame can- 
 not as yet act as a restraint to any large extent, but fear 
 of disapproval and self-assertion very effectively take 
 its place. The child will not talk about things he has 
 seen, heard or done, if he has reason to expect that 
 such an account is likely to have unpleasant results. 
 Neither will he ask questions about anything he wants 
 to know if he thinks he will not be told the truth. 
 Since it is, moreover, almost impossible for little peo- 
 ple to think about a thing without talking about it, the 
 determination to keep silent about any experience of 
 theirs is almost certain to lead to repression of the 
 same. 
 
 As was pointed out earlier in this chapter, a vivid 
 emotional experience is often the source of a lasting 
 sentiment. If an experience of this kind is repressed, 
 the sentiment is not thereby broken up, for the impulses 
 remain centred round the idea. The desires to which 
 they give rise are, however, prevented from coming to 
 consciousness in their normal form, for they would 
 only be repressed if they did. Yet, since the “complex” 
 (as the sentiment is usually called when repressed) is 
 
84 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 still active, the vital energy set free by it must find an 
 outlet somehow. At times it manages to slip out un- 
 disguised when we are not on the watch. Thus a lady 
 who considers it her duty to keep on good terms with 
 old family friends, but who, none the less, heartily dis- 
 likes one of them, once said to the latter in my hearing, 
 “T am so glad you have to go so soon.”’ She was evi- 
 dently quite unaware of the slip she had made for she 
 did not correct herself or seem self-conscious in any 
 way. 
 
 More often these repressed complexes find an outlet 
 in a disguised form. Thus Jung gives us an account of 
 a child of four (called Anna in the text) who developed 
 an abnormal interest in geography as the result of a re- 
 pression. When her baby brother was born, Anna 
 wanted to know about the origin of children. Her 
 father told her that the stork brings them, but this she 
 found out to be untrue. She therefore lost faith in 
 her parents at the very moment when she was faced 
 with a problem which was of intense interest to her and 
 which they alone could solve for her. This happened 
 just before the earthquake of Messina. Anna heard 
 the latter discussed at table. She got very excited and 
 asked endless questions about it. Her desire for know- 
 ledge was such that she spent hours poring over maps 
 and pictures of volcanoes. She also “began to cry out 
 frequently at night that the earthquake was coming and 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 85 
 
 that she heard the thunder” (Analytical Psychology, 
 Jung, translated by Constance Long, edition 1916, p. 
 141). Presently her father took an opportunity to tell 
 her something about the origin of children in a way 
 that convinced her that he was speaking the truth. 
 Then her fear of earthquakes disappeared as suddenly 
 as it had come into existence. Her very interest in 
 them was lost! “In order to test this new state of 
 affairs the father showed her pictures illustrating vol- 
 canoes and earthquake devastations. Anna remained 
 unaffected ; she examined the pictures with indifference, 
 remarking, ‘These people are dead; I have already seen 
 that quite often.’ The pictures of a volcanic eruption 
 no longer had any attraction for her. Thus all her 
 scientific interest collapsed and vanished as suddenly 
 as it came’ (op. cit., p. 144). Here we have, there- 
 fore, interest in the origin of children repressed, and 
 the energy set free by it diverted to interest in earth- 
 quakes and volcanoes. But such “ sublimation,” as it 
 is called technically, is abnormal at the age of four. As 
 Jung points out, it would, if encouraged, involve pre- 
 mature mental strain, for which the child would very 
 likely have to suffer later on. 
 
 It must never be forgotten that the first person whom 
 a child really loves is his little self. Other people only 
 enter into his scheme of things in so far as they affect 
 his comfort: he loves them when they please him, 
 
86 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 he hates them when they hurt him. Moreover, until 
 he has learnt from his environment that he is 
 expected to be consistent in his behaviour, he is cap- 
 able of loving a person dearly at one moment and 
 hating him with equal intensity the next. At the 
 same time self-preservation combined with utter de- 
 pendence on others make him anxious to win the 
 approval of those around him. If it is wicked to 
 hate father or mother, he tries to forget that he has 
 even been guilty of such an act; if one should not 
 want to know or to have certain things, he is horrified 
 to find such desires within himself. Thus the ordinary 
 conventional environment is responsible for numbers 
 of premature or unnecessary repressions, and each 
 such repression means a complex which may work 
 untold mischief at a later stage. Birth, marriage, and 
 all that is involved therein are the most common 
 sources, probably because the average adult has himself 
 so many complexes round them that he is incapable of 
 answering the questions of young children as frankly as 
 they are put, and often conveys the impression that 
 offences against adult conventions are due to something 
 evil within the child, whereas they are usually caused 
 by nothing more alarming than ignorance. 
 
 There is every reason to believe that sex instruction 
 should be given as soon as the child asks for it, that is, 
 at about the age of four or five (cf. p. 84). If he can 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 87 
 
 only get contradictory and unlikely stories from his 
 own people, the child of eight or nine turns to older 
 children or to any one who is willing to help him. 
 Sooner or later reproduction tends to become a problem 
 of overwhelming importance and definite nervous 
 symptoms may appear, if the information is not forth- 
 coming or is obtained in an undesirable form. It 
 seems worth while to give two instances from the 
 writer's own experience: A girl of twelve and a half | 
 was so restless in school that she was always in trouble, . 
 another of not yet eleven suffered from recurrent night- 
 mares. Both were cured by sexual instruction com- 
 bined with a short course of psycho-analysis. 
 
 The paths by which a repressed complex finds an 
 outlet are many and various. Thumb-sucking, if con- 
 tinued after infancy, is often due to a repressed desire 
 for more affection. Queer fancies and objectless fears 
 can usually be traced to some experience long ago for- 
 gotten by the victim. And always the method of dis- 
 covering the cause of a symptom is fundamentally 
 that of free associations, working at times from a 
 person’s waking thoughts, and more frequently from 
 his dreams. 
 
 As in the case of sentiments, these methods of 
 relieving pressure are repeated if not checked; but since 
 the resulting habits originate in desires which the in- 
 dividual is hiding from himself, it is often difficult 
 
88 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 to discover their source, and the person himself is 
 usually under the impression that he has drifted into 
 them involuntarily. 
 
 In this connection it is worth while to point out 
 that the reasons which the individual gives for his 
 behaviour are not worth much, since the act is a 
 safety-valve for a complex which its owner has “for- 
 gotten,’ the reason of which he is aware must have 
 been invented after the event to justify it. To ask 
 a child, “Why do you steal?” “Why do you lose 
 your temper?” is to invite lies. The only true answer 
 would be, “I don’t know; something in me makes 
 me do it.” But, if he thinks he ought to have a 
 reason, he will find one, and since such a reason 
 will make the outlet safer for the unconscious complex, 
 he will probably feel convinced that he has found the 
 true one. 
 
 (3) The Value of Mind-Tunnelling in Connection 
 with Repressed Complexes.—In conclusion, I will quote 
 a case of Dr. Rivers (See The Lancet, August 18, 
 1917). A certain officer in the R.A.M.C. had a great 
 dislike for closed spaces. He had suffered from 
 this since his boyhood. To be shut up in a closed 
 space frightened him, though he could give no reason 
 for his fear, and he found the strain of living in dug- 
 outs and trenches so intolerable that he broke down 
 under it, Working with the method of free associa- 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 89 
 
 tions, Dr. Rivers caused him to recall the following 
 scene from his childhood. As a little boy of three or 
 four, he had taken something to a ragman in order 
 to sell it. The ragman lived at the end of a long dark 
 passage. When the child came back, he could not open 
 the door at the end of the passage, at the same time 
 a dog began to growl in the darkness; it is no wonder 
 that he was terrified. This adventure he had first re- 
 pressed and afterwards forgotten. But it had gone 
 on living below the surface, causing a general fear of 
 closed spaces, which he found impossible to conquer, 
 though he must have realised its futility. An interest- 
 ing point in cases of this kind is that the symptom, 
 e. g. the objectless fear, disappears when the uncon- 
 scious complex has been brought back to consciousness 
 and has thus been broken up. 
 
 The greater the resistance, the greater is the perse- 
 verance that is needed to recall an event that has been 
 “forgotten” through repression. Yet recalled it must 
 be, if we wish to cure individuals of such things as 
 objectless fears, or if we wish to solve such problems 
 as the functions of hero-worship in the development 
 of the adolescent. Roughly speaking, the method em- 
 ployed in cases of difficulty is to attack the “forgotten” 
 event from as many different points as possible, until 
 it is at last stimulated so strongly that it is recalled 
 in spite of the resistance. 
 
90 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 E. Gregariousness 
 
 (1) The Psychology. of Gregariousness—In the 
 course of this chapter we have had occasion to refer 
 to the desire for companionship and the force of public 
 opinion. Phenomena of this nature are usually classed 
 together as products of our natural “gregariousness,” 
 or desire to live with others of our own kind. We 
 have now to try to account for this desire and to study 
 some of its effects on behaviour. 
 
 Gregariousness in its simplest form merely drives 
 us to seek company of some kind. It causes us to 
 take pleasure in being one of a crowd and makes us 
 afraid of being out of reach of other human beings. 
 It is often described as a special instinct (cf. Trotter, 
 Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War, and Mc- 
 Dougall, op. cit., p. 84), but it may well be the outward 
 expression of the fear of being alone. 
 
 This fear every child acquires during the first years 
 of life for he is then so helpless that it is not safe to 
 let him stray far afield. It probably manages to sur- 
 vive when he begins to be able to look after himself, 
 because it ensures the attention of others, which is 
 exactly what his egotistic little soul desires above all 
 else. If he is taught to feel ashamed of it as he grows 
 older, he will probably repress it into a complex, other- 
 wise it may remain a sentiment all his life. In the 
 
Sentiments and Complexes _ gt 
 
 latter case he will remain aware of his fear of solitude 
 and will, therefore, not have to invent other more 
 dignified reasons for his desire for companionship. 
 Whether present as complex or sentiment, his fear will, 
 however, have the effect of making him seek the society 
 of others. As we have already seen, it is, moreover, 
 soon reinforced by the desire for friendships (cf. p. 
 74). 
 
 These forces together must gradually accustom the 
 child to the continual companionship of others of his 
 own kind, and the companionship in turn must cause 
 him to form interests and other sentiments, the satisfac- 
 tion of which depends on continual intercourse with 
 others. It is, therefore, not difficult to see why the 
 adult usually finds it extraordinarily difficult to live a 
 life of solitude. To accustom himself to such a change 
 he has to find new outlets for a large number of senti- 
 ments and complexes, some of which (such as the 
 fear of being alone) date back to the earliest years of 
 his life and have therefore had time to form all kinds 
 of derivatives in their service. 
 
 At the age of seven or eight an interesting stage is 
 reached in the development of gregariousness, for that 
 is the age at which children usually begin to form 
 gangs and clubs of their own accord. At first these 
 organisations are, of course, very unstable; not only 
 the leader, but even the members, often change from 
 
92 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 day to day. Children of this age will often tell us: 
 “T am not friends with So-and-so to-day.” All the 
 same the gang or club is a living entity to its members 
 and it is felt to be a serious matter to be expelled from 
 it. The verdict: ““We do not want you to play with 
 us, you always spoil the game,” has made many a 
 strong-willed child make his first real effort to gain 
 self-control. It should be noticed that the fear of 
 being alone inculcates the same lesson, even if the 
 issue is not complicated by the desire for friendship, 
 for a community always has it in its power to ostracise 
 its most obnoxious members. Further, the need for 
 company may come into conflict with the desire for 
 the friendship of a particular individual, for a person 
 may find that one of his friends has incurred the anger 
 of the community and he may then have to choose 
 between comparative isolation and the loss of a 
 friend. 
 
 (2) The Relation of Gregariousness to Love of 
 Approval, Suggestion and Imitation—It will be 
 obvious that conflicts between the need for friends, 
 the fear of loneliness, and the love of power, must 
 lead to endless problems of behaviour. The more im- 
 portant of these the reader will find discussed in the 
 chapters on Character. Before leaving the subject, it 
 will, however, be convenient to prepare the ground by 
 describing three phenomena which are closely connected 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 93 
 
 with their solution. These are love of approval, sug- 
 gestion and imitation. 
 
 Love of Approval.—Love of approval may be due 
 to nothing more than a desire for concrete gain of some 
 kind. Thus a child will try to gain the approval of the 
 teacher, who has it in his power to grant or withhold 
 some privilege. This is, however, only a partial ex- 
 planation of the phenomenon, for we often experience 
 a desire for approval when there cannot be any ques- 
 tion of gaining something concrete. Another obvious 
 explanation is that the desire is due to self-assertion, 
 but that again is not satisfactory as it stands, for it 
 does not show why we need the approval of others 
 even when we know that we have done a good piece 
 of work. The love of approval, which is not merely 
 the reverse of fear of pain, seems rather to be the 
 result of the interaction of self-assertion with some 
 other innate tendency. In the case of the young child 
 this tendency is, no doubt, what we usually call his 
 “love” for parent or nurse. It has often been observed 
 that a child, who is deprived of the petting and fondling 
 which the average child gets as a matter of course, 
 misses something which the best education is not able 
 to replace. Displeasure on the part of the parents 
 necessarily means deprivation of these expressions of 
 love and the child’s need for them must, therefore, act 
 as a strong incentive in the right direction. Presently 
 
94 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 this is reinforced by self-assertion, for he wants to 
 prove to himself that he is growing in strength and 
 skill, and he has become sufficiently aware of his own 
 ignorance to feel that he can only judge his progress 
 by the impression which his achievements make on 
 others. By the time the child is old enough to form 
 friendships, the desire for actual fondling and petting 
 has developed into a desire for sympathy and comrade- 
 ship, but the origin of his desire for the good opinion 
 of his friend seems to be similar to that of the earlier 
 forms. On the other hand, attempts to gain the ap- 
 proval of a superior whom the individual does not 
 like, or of the community as a whole, seem rather to 
 be based on fear and self-assertion. The hold which 
 a community has over the average individual (or, in 
 other words, the extent to which the individual fears 
 ostracism), is seen by the readiness with which he 
 usually bows to the verdict of the majority. In fact, 
 fear of public opinion is, as a rule, stronger than fear 
 of a superior; if there is conflict between the two, the 
 average boy of ten or eleven will incur the wrath of his 
 master rather than that of his fellows. 
 
 To sum up, the inborn tendencies of every normal 
 person make him want to win the approval of the in- 
 dividuals who are either his friends or his superiors 
 and of the groups and associations of which he forms 
 a part. In any particular case this desire may be due 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 95 
 
 to love for a particular individual, fear of one kind 
 or another, or, more usually, the interaction of either 
 or both of these with self-assertion. Finally, when 
 the choice lies between the approval of an individual 
 and that of a group, the latter is likely to prove the 
 greater incentive, unless the former is reinforced by a 
 strong feeling of friendship. As the reader will gather 
 from my analysis of love of approval, I feel inclined to 
 think that the interaction of gregariousness and self- 
 assertion is sufficient to account for this form of be- 
 haviour, and that it is consequently unnecessary to 
 postulate the existence of a special impulse. 
 Suggestion.—Roughly speaking, we divide the peo- 
 ple with whom we come into contact into superiors, 
 equals and inferiors. This does not imply that we 
 necessarily consider a person our inferior or our 
 superior in all respects; frequently we feel him to be 
 our inferior in some things, our equal or superior in 
 others. In so far as we consider another our inferior, 
 he has no influence over us, for we consider ourselves 
 better qualified than he.2 But if we have reason to 
 *Dr. McDougall assumes the existence of an impulse of self- 
 subjection which “expresses itself in a slinking, crestfallen be- 
 haviour, a general diminution of muscular tone, slow, restricted 
 movements, a hanging down of the head and sidelong glances” 
 Cntroduction to Social Psychology, Edition 1910, pp. 64-65). 
 *It should be noticed that the unsupported opinion of an equal, 
 
 or even of an inferior, may be accepted uncritically when it 
 flatters our self-esteem. This is due to our tendency to “forget” 
 
96 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 believe that he is our superior in something in which 
 we would like to perfect ourselves, he is for us the 
 leader of a group to which we would like to belong, and 
 if our respect for him is great enough, we are prepared 
 to follow him blindly and do not even experience the 
 desire to find a reason for his commands. In other 
 words, we are prepared to accept his statements zwith- 
 out logically adequate proof. 
 
 It is usual to refer to statements accepted in this way 
 as “suggestions,” and to describe the persons who are 
 willing to act on them as “suggestible.”’ We may, 
 therefore, say that we take suggestions from our 
 superiors, but not from our inferiors. There remains 
 our attitude towards equals. This is different from 
 either of the others, for it depends on the number of 
 persons who make the assertion. If an equal has no 
 one to support him, we expect him to give us a reason 
 for his opinion, but if four or five all assert the same 
 thing, we begin to waver and if the group is large 
 enough, we usually accept its point of view as un- 
 critically as that of the leader, for we then feel that 
 we are dealing with an opinion of our group, and this 
 we want to accept to prove ourselves members of the 
 group. We may, therefore, conclude that we accept 
 suggestions from a single individual if we look upon 
 
 whatever is contrary to the dominating interest of the moment. 
 (Cf. quotation from Mr. Shand, p. 78.) 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 97 
 
 him as the leader of a group to which we either belong 
 or would like to belong, and that we accept suggestions 
 from a number of individuals, if we think that they 
 are members of such a group. It is usual to call the 
 former “prestige suggestion,’ the latter “mass sug- 
 gestion.’ There are evidently a number of educa- 
 tional problems to discuss in connection with “sug- 
 gestion,” but it will be convenient to leave these until 
 we are dealing with the training of the character (see 
 Chapter IX). 
 
 Imitation.—l{ we wish to decide whether a certain 
 
 6é DB 
 
 person belongs to our “set,” we try to find out how 
 he behaves, what opinions he holds and possibly how 
 he earns his living. Then, if he turns out to be like 
 us in what we consider essentials, we are prepared to 
 accept him as “one of us.” If not, we may consider 
 him as our superior or as our inferior, but we do not 
 admit him to our “group” on terms of equality. Hence 
 the person who for any reason wishes to belong to a 
 particular group is forced to imitate the characteristic 
 actions of that group and even to adopt its opinions 
 and prejudices. Imitation of this kind can be called 
 “conscious” imitation. It is evidently the result of the 
 interaction of gregariousness and self-assertion, for 
 gregariousness impels us to join a group of some kind 
 and the sacrifice of independence which this necessarily 
 
 entails would injure our self-esteem, if we did not 
 
98 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 imagine that the members of the group we select are 
 as good as, or better than, ourselves. Conscious imi- 
 tation is, however, not necessarily intelligent. A boy 
 of four “wrote” something that looked at a distance 
 like a letter, but when asked what he had been writing 
 about he looked blank; he had wanted to do what the 
 older children were doing, but he had not yet realised 
 the purpose of letters. It is worth while to notice in 
 this connection that the child imitates wholes rather 
 than parts. The reason for this is simple: the wholes 
 have meaning for him, the parts have none, hence he 
 is interested in the wholes and not in the parts, and 
 there can be no desire to imitate where there is no 
 interest. We should therefore teach in wholes or, if 
 the final whole is too complex, break it up into simpler 
 wholes, each of which has a meaning for the child. 
 Thus it is permissible to break up a word into sounds 
 when a child has discovered their existence, but it is 
 never permissible to break up a letter into “‘pot-hooks,”’ 
 because these are necessarily meaningless. 
 
 Besides “conscious” imitation, there is another form, 
 which is known as “unconscious” imitation. As the 
 name suggests, this is a tendency to imitate others 
 which is not due to any conscious desire on our part. 
 It also differs from the other form in that it may 
 make us imitate the actions of people who do not 
 
Sentiments and Complexes 99 
 
 belong to any of the groups which we have chosen 
 consciously. At times it may even be responsible for 
 mannerisms and expressions which we consider ugly 
 or incorrect. On the other hand, unconscious imita- 
 tion does not, as a rule, impel us to copy the movements 
 of animals and mechanisms. 
 
 The reader will be prepared to find that uncon- 
 scious imitation is due to the activity of unconscious 
 complexes. Probably the fear of being alone is in- 
 volved in every such act. The particular path by which 
 the energy escapes must, however, be influenced by 
 other sentiments or complexes. It will be more con- 
 venient to discuss this point fully in connection with 
 the origin of habits which have been acquired uncon- 
 sciously (see pp. 120-122). The social value of 
 unconscious imitation is too obvious to be in need of 
 elaboration. It helps us to “rub off corners,” and thus 
 makes it easier for us to live with each other. It enables 
 the child to pick up the speech and manners of his 
 environment without conscious effort on his part. 
 
 There is, however, another side to the question, for 
 the very ease with which we become like each other 
 may in itself become an obstacle to progress, if not 
 held in check by a contrary tendency. During child- 
 hood and youth self-regard usually provides this neces- 
 sary check, but as persons grow older they often 
 prefer to stay in the group in which they happen to find 
 
100 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 themselves, and it evidently depends on the constitution 
 and leadership of that group whether this is or is not 
 desirable. However, so long as an individual is grow- 
 ing mentally, he remains eager to choose his com- 
 panions from the “best’’ group available and to acquire 
 by conscious imitation much that he would never have 
 obtained without such efforts. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 NOTES ON THE FUNCTION OF THE NERVOUS 
 SYSTEM 
 
 A. The Neurone or Nerve-Cell. 
 
 B. The Physiology of a Simple Reflex Act. 
 C. The Central Nervous System. 
 
 D. The Physiology of Impulse. 
 
 E. Summary. 
 
 WE shall find as we proceed that the student of 
 psychology must know a little physiology in order to 
 appreciate some of the problems with which he is con- 
 fronted. This chapter will therefore consist of a few 
 notes on the physiology of the nervous system, which 
 the reader will find convenient for reference. 
 
 A. The Neurone or Nerve-Cell 
 
 The nervous system may be described shortly as an 
 exceedingly complex network of nerve-cells and their 
 branches, or neurones as they are usually called. The 
 
 I0I 
 
1o2 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 cell of the neurone is microscopic in size; some idea of 
 its minuteness will be obtained from the fact that there 
 are said to be about 3,000,000,000 nerve-cells in the 
 brain and spinal cord. Fig. 1 gives the structure of 
 the branches of a typical neurone. It will be noticed 
 that most of the processes of the nerve-cell break off 
 almost immediately into smaller branches ending in 
 arborescences of fine twigs; these are called dendrons. 
 The one long process which is 
 
 shown in the diagram is called the 
 
 axis cylinder or axon; it varies 
 
 eames greatly in length in different neu- 
 rones, but always ends in an arbo- 
 
 risation similar to that of the 
 
 dendrons. The axon has a few fine 
 
 cued side branches” near) the cell on ane 
 
 neurone, which are called collaterals. 
 
 oy Microscopic examination shows that 
 
 the dendrons and collaterals of 
 
 Fic. 1.—Pyramidal ; ; j ’ 
 cell from cerebrum. neighbouring neurones intermingle 
 
 From Halliburton’ . Sead 
 Be Tiook of Pieces and interlace, but it is not known at 
 
 7089.) present whether each neurone is an 
 anatomically independent unit, or whether there is a 
 continuous path from cell to cell. The important facts 
 for the psychologist are that there is functional con- 
 tinuity between neurones and that each is so closely 
 
 associated with several others that no part of the 
 
The Nervous System 103 
 
 nervous system can be considered apart from the rest 
 (cf. Lickley, The Nervous System, p. 12). 
 
 B. The Physiology of a Simple Reflex Act 
 
 Fig. 2 is a diagram of the path of nervous energy 
 in a reflex act—such as the withdrawal of the hand 
 after touching something that is unpleasantly hot. 
 “S” is a sensory neurone, the axon of which passes 
 from the cell in the spinal cord to some point on the 
 surface of the hand. ‘“M” is the motor neurone, the 
 
 Fic. 2.—Reflex Action. (From Halliburton.) 
 
 axon of which passes from its cell in the spinal cord to 
 one of the muscle fibres which control the movement 
 of the hand, and “I” is what may be called an inter- 
 mediary neurone. When the excessive heat stimulates 
 the sensory neurone S, nervous energy is set free. This 
 travels up the sensory neurone to the intermediate 
 neurone I, thence to the motor neurone M and thus 
 down to the muscle fibre, which it causes to contract. 
 
104 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 if 
 In the diagram only one neurone of each kind has 
 
 been shown, but in practice many more are involved, 
 
 Fic, 3.—Diagram of 
 
 the neurones of the 
 
 motor path. (From 
 Halliburton.) 
 
 for any movement of the hand de- 
 pends on contractions in a large 
 number of muscle fibres and a 
 stimulus like heat usually affects 
 more than one sensory neurone. 
 Further, we do not normally burn 
 ourselves without being aware of it, 
 and we do not become aware of 
 stimuli unless some of the nervous 
 energy which they set free succeeds 
 in reaching certain neurones in the 
 brain. Thus Fig. 2 only represents 
 the path of part of the energy that 
 was set free; the rest must have 
 passed by way of other intermediary 
 neurones to those which make it 
 possible for us to become conscious 
 of heat and pain. This part of the 
 path has been omitted in the diagram 
 for the sake of simplicity, but it can 
 easily be imagined from Fig. 3, 
 which shows how we move an arm 
 voluntarily. In this case the nervous 
 
 energy is set free centrally in response to a thought 
 
 or wish; it then travels to the intermediary neurones, 
 
The Nervous System 105 
 
 and from these to the necessary motor neurones. 
 Generally speaking, nervous energy can pass from one 
 part of the nervous system to another by means of 
 these intermediary neurones, and the number that 1s 
 involved in a particular case depends on the complexity 
 of the mental process involved. 
 
 C. The Central Nervous System 
 
 We shall next consider the structures of the nervous 
 system as a whole. It consists structurally of two 
 parts, the central system, which controls both voluntary 
 and involuntary acts, and the much smaller automatic 
 system, which is concerned only with pure reflexes, 
 such as the activity of the glands and the contraction of 
 the pupil of the eye in bright sunlight. The cells of 
 the central system are situated in the brain and the 
 spinal cord, those of the autonomic system are arranged 
 in groups which lie along both sides of the vertebral 
 column and near certain nerves of the brain; the two 
 systems are connected by strands of fibres which pass 
 at intervals between them. 
 
 In both systems the cells which carry out a common 
 purpose are grouped together into “nerve centres.” 
 
 The central nervous system consists structurally of 
 six parts: (1) the spinal cord; (2) the bulb or medulla 
 oblongata; (3) the cerebellum or the smaller brain; 
 (4) the pons or bridge which connects the smaller 
 
106 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 brain with the rest of the nervous system; (5) the 
 mid brain; and (6) the cerebrum or greater brain 
 
 (see Fig. 4). 
 
 Fic. 4.—Plan in outline of brain as seen from the right side. A, 
 cerebrum; B, cerebellum; C, pons; D, medulla oblongata. After 
 Quain’s Anatomy (Sir E. Sharpey Schafer). Longmans, Green & Co. 
 
 It would take us far beyond the scope of this book 
 to describe the functions of these different parts in 
 any detail, but we may summarise them as follows :— 
 
 (1) The cells of the spinal cord control the reflex 
 movements of the limbs and the trunk. 
 
 (2) Those of the bulb, the pons and the mid-brain 
 regulate breathing, heart-beating and other reflexes 
 which are essential for our well-being. 
 
 (3) Those of the cerebellum are concerned with the 
 
The Nervous System 107 
 
 co-ordination of muscular movements, and more par- 
 ticularly with the harmonious adjustment of the work- 
 ing of the muscles which maintain the body in a 
 position of equilibrium. 
 
 (4) Those of the cerebrum make volition, percep- 
 tion, thought and feeling possible. 
 
 1 =area for leg. 2=area for body. 3 =area for arm. 
 4 =area for neck. 5 =area for tongue. 6 =area for mouth. 
 
 Fic. 5.—Left cerebral hemisphere: outer surface. 
 
 In other words, the cerebrum is the organ which 
 enables us to formulate ends and to achieve them, 
 whereas the rest of the nervous system is concerned 
 with reflex activity, that is to say, with activity over 
 which we have little or no direct control (see Chapter 
 TI). 
 
 There will be no need for us to study the structure 
 of the spinal cord and lower brain any further, but it 
 will be convenient to know a little more about the 
 
 cerebrum. 
 
108 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 Fig. 5 gives a rough idea of how the nerve-centres 
 are distributed on its outer surface. The centres of the 
 motor area enable us to move our muscles at will (cf. 
 Fig. 3); the words “arm,” “leg,” etc., show the situa- 
 tion of the centres for the different parts of the body. 
 The other areas that are marked in the diagram 
 enable us to become aware of stimuli of sound, light, 
 etc. The area marked “Tactile and Muscular Senses” 
 is, perhaps, in need of a word of explanation; it is 
 concerned both with ordinary stimuli of touch and with 
 those which enable us to tell the position of a limb 
 without looking at it; if the centres of this area are not 
 in working order the patient becomes unable to tell the 
 position of his limbs without looking at them. There 
 remain the areas which are left blank in the diagram. 
 These are usually called the “association areas,’’ because 
 they are said to contain the neurones which act as inter- 
 mediaries between the centres of the sensory and motor 
 areas, and thus enable us to associate together impres- 
 sions from different senses and sensations with move- 
 ments. Thus the light and sound of a fire set free 
 energy in the visual and auditory areas of the cerebrum 
 in the way explained above, but this energy then passes 
 to some common centre in the association area, and it 
 is the fact that this third centre is being stimulated 
 simultaneously by two different sense centres, which 
 somehow enables us to realise that the light and sound 
 
The Nervous System 109 
 
 are coming from the same source, the fire. Similarly, 
 if a number of association centres are stimulated one 
 after the other, further intermediary neurones seem 
 to enable us to realise in what order we are experiencing 
 the corresponding impressions. 
 
 The possibilities of mental activity which we owe to 
 the association areas are further increased by the 
 tendency of the neurones of the cerebrum to store im- 
 pressions for future use. The physiological explana- 
 tion suggested for this phenomenon is that nervous 
 energy encounters resistance the first time it passes 
 from one neurone to another, and that this resistance 
 decreases every time the same path is taken. Psycho- 
 logically this means that acts and lines of thought 
 become easier on repetition. We are, moreover, able 
 to reproduce many experiences at will, and can thus 
 repeat them until the resistance has become negligible. 
 In other words, habit, recognition and memory all 
 depend ultimately on this tendency of nerve-centres 
 to be permanently affected by suitable stimuli. It could 
 be shown that perception, imagination and reasoning in 
 turn depend on the power of forming associations com- 
 bined with that of recalling the past, and we have 
 already seen that voluntary movement can be initiated 
 in the motor areas. Hence the cerebrum enables us: 
 (1) to conceive ends; (2) to adapt our behaviour to 
 these ends; and (3) to make useful forms of behaviour 
 
110 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 habitual. Or, to put the same thing more shortly, the 
 cerebrum is the organ which enables us to use our 
 impulses to the best advantage. 
 
 So far, we are on safe ground, but if we now ask 
 what is the exact connection between physiological 
 changes in the nervous system and the mental processes 
 which are in some way dependent on them, science has 
 as yet no answer to give us. We know that the 
 functioning of the mind is in some way dependent on 
 that of the brain, but we are at present absolutely 
 ignorant of the way in which this interdependence is 
 established. 
 
 D. The Physiology of Impulse 
 
 As regards the physiology of impulse as such, there 
 is as yet even less information at our disposal. It 
 seems probable that a group of neurones at the base of 
 the cerebrum (called the thalamus) is responsible for 
 the distribution of impulsive activity, and that the 
 thalamic centre itself is especially concerned with the 
 production of emotion, while the cortex exercises dis- 
 criminative and inhibitory functions. That is all 
 Physiology can teach us at present about the initiation 
 of impulsive activity. | 
 
 In the case of most impulses we know just a little 
 about the mechanism which controls the rest of the 
 process. Such information as we have is, in the main, 
 
The Nervous System III 
 
 concerned with the impulse to avoid danger and the 
 impulse to fight. Observation teaches us that both 
 these impulses produce certain reflex changes within us 
 which prepare us for activity; thus the person who is 
 growing angry often stiffens his muscles and clenches 
 his fists without being aware of it, and the person who 
 is frightened starts up, even if he does not run away. 
 Hence some of the energy which is set free by the 
 percept must be diverted reflexly to the motor centres 
 of the spinal cord, which will be thrown into activity 
 if we give way to the corresponding impulse. 
 
 It has been shown of late that the reflex centres of 
 the nervous system also prepare us for emergencies in 
 another way. Situated just above the kidneys there 
 are two small glands which secrete a substance called 
 adrenaline. In anger and fear these glands are stimu- 
 lated automatically, with the result that they secrete 
 more than the normal amount of adrenaline. The way 
 this reacts on the body is too complex to be described in 
 this connection. The reader who knows no physiology 
 will therefore have to take it for granted that the extra 
 adrenaline increases the power of resistance of heart 
 and muscle and thus renders both attack and defence 
 more effective. Thus the impulse to fight and the 
 impulse to avoid danger are connected innately with 
 reflexes which are of the greatest value to us when 
 our safety is being threatened. In other cases we 
 
112 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 cannot be so certain, but impulsive activity is usually 
 accompanied by facial expression which is undoubtedly 
 reflex in nature. Thus there is reason to believe that 
 each impulse is connected innately with a more or less 
 complex system of reflexes to which energy is diverted 
 automatically whenever the impulse is stimulated. 
 
 E. Summary 
 
 In conclusion we may sum up the main points in 
 this chapter as follows. From the point of view of 
 the student of behaviour, the function of the nervous 
 system is twofold: the centres of the spine and lower 
 brain control a large number of activities which are 
 essential to our well-being and they do this reflexly, so 
 that each stimulus produces the right reaction without 
 any conscious interference on our part; the centres 
 of the cerebrum enable us to become aware of our 
 environment and to act in accordance with our desires. 
 Our knowledge of the physiology of impulse is still very 
 limited, but we have reason to believe that the energy 
 set free by any percept is used partly in voluntary 
 and partly in reflex activity, and that the amount of 
 energy which can be expended in these ways on any 
 particular occasion is under the control of certain 
 nerve-centres in the thalamus. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE GROWTH AND CONTROL OF HABITS 
 
 A. The Law of Habit and its Effect on Behaviour. 
 B. The Origin of Habits. 
 
 (1) Consciously Acquired Habits. 
 
 (2) Unconsciously Acquired Habits. 
 
 C. The Growth and Control of Consciously Acquired Habits 
 of Choice. 
 
 (1) Rules for Acquiring Habits with the Minimum of 
 Effort. 
 
 (2) The Effect of Indecision on the Growth of Habits. 
 (3) The So-called “Transference” of Habits. 
 
 A. The Law of Habit 
 
 WE saw in the last chapter that our conscious acts, 
 thoughts and feelings are the psychological equivalents 
 of the physiological phenomena which are produced by 
 the flow of nervous energy through the cerebrum. We 
 also saw that nervous energy encounters resistance the 
 first time it flows along a new path, but that each 
 repetition decreases this resistance so that practice can 
 make any path habitual, by rendering it easier than any 
 of its alternatives. We may therefore state the Law of 
 
 113 
 
114 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 Habit as follows: Every response to a stimulus— 
 whether act or thought—tends to recur when the 
 stimulus recurs, and every such recurrence itself 
 strengthens this tendency. Clearly this does not mean 
 that the recurrence of a stimulus is in itself sufficient to 
 make the resulting act habitual. At times our behaviour 
 produces unpleasant results, at others it is “abnormal” 
 in the sense that it is due to the temporary weakening 
 of some well-established sentiment or habit. In such 
 cases contrary forces are likely to prove too strong on 
 the next occasion and the response of the moment will, 
 therefore, not have a chance of becoming habitual, no 
 matter how often the stimulus recurs. 
 
 Our tendency to form habits enables us to make 
 numbers of useful responses automatic. Thus we 
 gradually learn to look round if we hear the hoot of a 
 motor, to turn out the electric light when we go out 
 of a room, and so forth. And these actions tend to 
 become so automatic that we sometimes look up at the 
 hoot of a motor when we are safely on the foot-path, 
 or turn out the electric light when there are other 
 persons left in the room. Moreover, as we all know, 
 many of our most valuable habits consist of long 
 series of responses which practice has bound together 
 into one automatic whole. Thus we are able to write 
 familiar words, to walk up and down stairs, and even 
 to find our way to our place of daily work, without 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 115 
 
 attending to what we are doing. In fact the me- 
 chanisms seem to work themselves once we have started 
 them and we are often barely aware of what is going 
 on, unless the normal path is blocked by some unusual 
 obstacle. The reader may obtain some idea of the way 
 in which these series grow up by practising a short 
 sentence, such as “I am going out,” until he can write 
 it as one mechanical whole. He will find that he is at 
 first aware of every word as he finishes it, but that 
 the words gradually merge into each other, so that 
 he can ultimately write the whole sentence as though 
 it were one single word. This means that there was 
 at the beginning of the experiment more or less 
 resistance between the sensations accompanying the 
 finishing of one word and the first movement required 
 for the next, and that this resistance was decreased 
 by practice until it grew too slight to produce aware- 
 ness. We can therefore represent the series which is 
 rendered mechanical when habits of this kind are being 
 formed as :— 
 
 Stimulus — 1st movement > resulting sensations 
 > 2nd movement > resulting sensations > , , , > 
 
 . . to the end of the series. 
 
 It should be noticed that the intermediate sensa- 
 tions only develop into percepts so long as there is a 
 certain amount of resistance in the path which the 
 nervous energy has to take. Afterwards we are only 
 
116 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 aware of the initial stimulus and of the final sensations, 
 which mean that the task is completed, and are there- 
 fore free to attend to other things once we have the 
 machine in motion. The reader need only consider 
 the number of mechanical tasks he has to accomplish 
 day by day, in order to realise how little time he would 
 have left for tackling new problems, if he were not 
 endowed with the power of executing automatic move- 
 ments without becoming aware of them.? 
 
 There is still another way in which the tendency to 
 form habits simplifies life. If my alarm clock wakes 
 me at six o'clock on a cold winter morning, I am quite 
 likely to decide that it is really too cold to get up so 
 early and that the piece of work which seemed so 
 urgent last night can well be left for another day. But 
 if I have decided to form a habit of getting up at 6 
 A.M. and therefore force myself to obey the alarm day 
 after day in spite of various good reasons to the con- 
 trary, I find that these reasons gradually cease to 
 obtrude themselves on my consciousness and that I 
 
 * The physiological cause of this loss of awareness is not cer- 
 tain. It has been suggested that the resistance which the nervous 
 energy encounters is the physiological equivalent of consciousness 
 and that every decrease in resistance is accompanied by a cor- 
 responding loss of awarenss. There is, however, reason to 
 believe that the motor centres which give us control over volun- 
 tary movements cease to function when an act has become 
 habitual and it is therefore possible that the loss of awareness 
 is due to some change in the path taken by the nervous energy 
 when the act has become automatic. 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 117 
 
 presently jump out of bed at the proper time without 
 being aware of any choice in the matter. This is an 
 instance of what it will be convenient to call a “habit of 
 choice.”” Like all habits, it is formed by decreasing the 
 resistance between a stimulus and a reaction and it 
 only differs from a habit of action in that the reaction 
 happens to be an idea instead of a movement or a 
 series of movements. Our tendency to lose sight of 
 possible alternatives as one course of action becomes 
 habitual clearly results in much economy of effort, for 
 it reduces both the number of problems we have to 
 solve and the number of times we have to exert will- 
 power in order to act according to our resolutions. 
 
 To sum up, thanks to the Law of Habit, we drift 
 into many useful forms of activity and are also able 
 to acquire acts of skill and to learn to behave con- 
 sistently without special conscious effort. Moreover, 
 the separate elements of an act of skill and the dis- 
 turbing alternatives in an act of choice cease to attract 
 our attention as these acts become automatic. In short, 
 habit makes easy what was at first difficult and thus 
 enables us to adapt our actions to our needs with the 
 least possible expenditure of energy. 
 
 B. The Origin of Habits 
 
 So far as we know, the only mental systems which 
 make for consistency in acquired forms of behaviour 
 
118 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 are those centres of potential activity which we call 
 “sentiments” when they are conscious, and “complexes” 
 when they are unconscious. It is therefore to these 
 that we must turn for the origin of habits. 
 
 (1) Consciously Acquired Habits——Clearly every 
 consciously acquired habit must have been formed in 
 response to some conscious desire, and we know that 
 conscious desires owe their existence to sentiments. 
 We may therefore conclude that consciously acqured 
 habits are formed in the service of sentiments. 
 
 (2) Unconsciously Acquired Habits —Though most 
 of the habits which are formed in the service of senti- 
 ments are acquired consciously, some are, no doubt, 
 developed without arousing the awareness of the con- 
 scious self. These would be acts which facilitate the 
 attainment of some conscious desire, but which involve 
 no particular difficulty and can therefore be left to look 
 after themselves. Under this heading might come such 
 habits as that of looking right and left before crossing 
 a busy thoroughfare. Any one who lives in a big city 
 is likely to acquire this habit before long, but it is learnt 
 with so little conscious effort that it is quite possible to 
 take this precaution habitually, without being aware of 
 the fact. 
 
 Habits which have been formed under the influence 
 of complexes are of greater interest to the educator 
 and will therefore be considered at greater length. As 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 119 
 
 we know, complexes are centres of potential activity, 
 and consequently set free energy whenever they are 
 stimulated by suitable percepts or ideas. This energy 
 must find an outlet of some kind. Moreover, the well- 
 being of the individual as a whole demands that that 
 outlet should be one which the conscious self can pass 
 as meaningless or harmless, otherwise the resulting 
 activity will only relieve pressure in the unconscious at 
 the expense of shame in the conscious. When an 
 outlet of the right kind has been found, it is therefore 
 likely to become habitual through frequent use. 
 
 The extent to which an individual acquires habits 
 under the influence of unconscious complexes depends 
 partly on himself and partly on the traditions of his 
 environment. The greater the amount of self-control 
 he has to exert, the more likely is he to take refuge in 
 repression, and the more repressed complexes he has, 
 the more meaningless habits is he likely to acquire. In 
 fact the results of psycho-analysis seem to suggest that 
 a very large number of our unconsciously formed 
 habits owe their origin to repressed complexes.? 
 
 An example may make the process clearer. Under 
 favourable conditions the child who is just old 
 
 *Consciously formed habits may owe their origin indirectly 
 to complexes, for complexes can find relief through sentiments 
 acquired for that purpose. To discuss these would, however, 
 
 take us beyond the limits of this book. (Cf. account of little 
 Anna’s interest in geography, pp. 84-85.) 
 
120 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 enough to begin to look after himself gradually learns 
 to accept the joys of childish friendships, and of con- 
 struction and discovery, as substitutes for the pleasure 
 he derived from the undivided attention of his mother. 
 But until he has learnt to “sublimate” his energy in 
 these ways, he is likely to experience the desire to be 
 once again a small and helpless baby. This desire can- 
 not come to consciousness without being repressed, 
 for it is contrary to his conscious wish to become big 
 and strong. It has therefore to find outlets which are 
 not recognised as such, and psycho-analysis has shown 
 that these outlets are often thumb-sucking and _ nail- 
 biting. As is well known, these bad habits usually 
 disappear without much trouble as the child grows 
 older, that is to say, as he finds other more satisfying 
 uses for his energy. (When the habits persist into 
 adolescence there is every reason to believe that the 
 child has somehow failed to sublimate his energy and 
 is therefore in need of special treatment. ) 
 
 We turn next to the mannerisms and tricks of 
 speech which we tend to learn from our environment 
 without conscious effort. It can be shown that these, 
 too, are habits formed in the service of unconscious 
 complexes. Most of us can recall occasions on which 
 we grew half aware of a quickly repressed wish that 
 we could be content to act like, or live with, certain 
 other people. If such a wish occurs just once, it may 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 121 
 
 only be the outcome of temporary conditions, but if it 
 recurs at intervals there must be some permanent 
 system behind it, and since that system is not in the 
 conscious, we must look for it in the unconscious. 
 Hence the revival of a wish of this kind, when we are 
 fatigued or day-dreaming, may be taken as a proof for 
 the existence of the corresponding complex. Given 
 the complex, it must find a means of expression, and 
 mannerisms and tricks of speech would serve its 
 purpose admirably, just because they are likely to be 
 passed as harmless and are yet such as to satisfy the 
 unconscious desire to make some effort to resemble 
 the members of the group in question. Thumb-suck- 
 ing is a case in point, for there can be little doubt that 
 it is a source of satisfaction to the unconscious of the 
 child because sucking is a characteristic and highly 
 pleasurable act of infancy. However, the child who 
 habitually sucks his thumb is by no means aware of the 
 origin of his habit; he would indignantly repudiate the 
 suggestion that he was trying to behave like a baby. 
 (It may be well to remind the reader that such facts as 
 the origin of thumb-sucking are discovered by the 
 method of Free Associations, and that they are not 
 present in consciousness until this method has been 
 applied. Cf. p. 82.) 
 
 One further point needs consideration, that is the 
 tendency to adopt local expressions or mannerisms, not 
 
122 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 without conscious effort, but definitely, in spite of 
 strong resolutions to the contrary. In such cases the 
 unconscious complexes are evidently so powerful that 
 they find an outlet whenever the conscious self is not 
 on the watch. So long as the act in question is un- 
 familiar, it attracts attention to itself on account of the 
 resistance which it has to overcome. But this resistance 
 decreases with repetition until the act has become quite 
 mechanical, and the conscious self is, therefore, no 
 longer able to inhibit it. When this stage has been 
 reached, the unconscious complex has secured for itself 
 an outlet which it can use without hindrance, in spite 
 of the fact that it is unpleasing to the conscious self. 
 The success the complex has achieved in this way sug- 
 gests that is must have been very powerful, for only a 
 strong complex could have overcome the inhibition by 
 the conscious self again and again until it finally 
 succeeded in withdrawing its method of expression 
 from conscious control by making it mechanical. Sum- 
 marising the results of the last few paragraphs, we may 
 say that most unconsciously acquired habits are formed 
 in the service of complexes, but some are also formed 
 in the service of sentiments. In conclusion, it should 
 be observed that a habit can rarely be the product of 
 some one isolated tendency. Long before the end of 
 childhood a percept tends to stimulate more than one 
 centre of potential activity, and the resulting act is, 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 123 
 
 therefore, due to a compromise between the forces that 
 have been set free by it. Hence it is not strange to find 
 that the habit which is formed in relation to any par- 
 ticular set of circumstances can usually be shown to be 
 the product of more than one sentiment or complex. 
 
 At times it looks as though a particular habit must 
 be due to “chance.” This applies to such acts as taking 
 possession of a particular peg in a cloak-room, or 
 crossing the road at one particular point on one’s daily 
 walk to one’s work. Whenever the reader feels tempted 
 to interpret one of his habits in this way, he should 
 bear in mind that “chance” is “an extremely complex 
 system of causes, of the general nature of which we are 
 aware, but of the detailed operation of which we are 
 ignorant” (Yule, Theory of Statistics, p. 30), and if 
 he examines a fairly new habit of this kind, he will, 
 I think, always find that it owes its origin to a number 
 of circumstances, some of which he is still able to 
 recall.? 
 
 *The reader should note that we are here only concerned 
 with the origin of habits. Thus, cycling is a consciously acquired 
 habit, because we practise it until we can do it mechanically. 
 If we analyse it, it involves a number of acts of skill, most of 
 which are learnt most easily without conscious analysis. We are, 
 however, not concerned with methods of learning. An act of 
 skill, or any other habit, is acquired consciously if it is formed 
 in response to a definite desire on the part of the conscious self. 
 Whether this end is attained most easily by means of conscious 
 analysis or by the “try, try again” method, makes no difference 
 to its origin. 
 
124 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 C. The Growth and Control of Consciously Acquired 
 Habits of Choice 
 
 It should be noticed that many of our habits are 
 in themselves complex. Thus, neatness in written 
 home-work implies both a certain amount of skill in 
 the control of pen and ink, and readiness to set aside 
 sufficient time for the work. The former is a matter of 
 skill, the latter a matter of choice, and both must be 
 rendered mechanical, if a true habit is to be formed. 
 
 Since we are mainly concerned with the growth of 
 character, it will be convenient to omit the more detailed 
 study of habits of skill and to confine ourselves to the 
 study of habits of choice for the rest of this chapter. 
 
 (1) Rules for Acquring Habits with the Minimum 
 of Effort—It will be remembered that every habit is 
 physiologically a path of weak resistance for nervous 
 energy. Hence the growth of a habit is aided by every 
 act which ensures the further weakening of the selected 
 path, and it is hindered by any act which lays the 
 foundation for a rival path. Moreover, the resistance 
 is greatest the first time the energy is forced along a 
 new path, and decreases every time that path is used. 
 If we bear these points in mind, we shall have no 
 difficulty in formulating the rules for acquiring a habit 
 with the minimum of effort. These are four in 
 number : 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 125 
 
 (i) Since the resistance is greatest at the begin- 
 ning, it is well to use a moment of enthusiasm for the 
 first effort whenever a difficult habit has to be acquired. 
 
 (11) Since every act slightly decreases the resist- 
 ance to it on the next occasion, it wastes both time and 
 energy to allow an exception to occur until the desired 
 habit has become firmly established. 
 
 (iii) We have still to consider the treatment of 
 undesirable habits. These may have been formed con- 
 sciously or unconsciously, but once they have come into 
 existence they only concern us as paths of weak resist- 
 ance which we do not wish the nervous energy to use. 
 Clearly, it is not sufficient to check ourselves in the act, 
 for the nervous energy must find an outlet somewhere. 
 The best thing to do is to adopt some one other line of 
 action and to repeat this whenever we are aware of 
 the stimulus, until it involves less resistance than the 
 one to which we object. In other words, we can only 
 cure an undesirable habit by associating another 
 stronger habit with the same stimulus. 
 
 (iv) Finally, the amount of resistance the new habit 
 encounters depends in part on the extent to which it 
 satisfies the same sentiments and complexes as the old. 
 It is therefore always worth while to discover the 
 cause which was mainly responsible for the undesirable 
 habit before deciding how to replace it. In some cases, 
 such as that of thumb-sucking, it may then be found 
 
126 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 wise to remove the cause, instead of, or as well as, 
 tackling the habits. 
 
 (2) The Effect of Indecision on the Growth of 
 Habits.— Sometimes the difficulty which is experienced 
 in forming a new habit is due to the fact that the indi- 
 vidual has not clearly made up his mind what habit he 
 actually wants to acquire. The way in which this lack 
 of decision affects the development of habits of choice 
 has been studied experimentally by Dr. Boyd Barrett in 
 connection with the evolution of motivation. For a 
 full description of this interesting investigation, the 
 reader is referred to the book, Motive Force and 
 Motivation Tracks. Here we shall only be able to give 
 what is essential for the present purpose. 
 
 The method of investigation was as follows :— 
 
 Eight colourless liquids were prepared, such as to 
 vary in taste from very unpleasant to very pleasant. 
 Each of these was given a nonsense name (e.g. ziv), 
 so as to avoid complications introduced by chance asso- 
 ciations with this or that word. The first part of the 
 experiment consisted in teaching the subjects (i.e. the 
 men who did the experiment) to associate each name 
 with the right taste. After this the main part of the 
 work was begun. In this each subject had to choose 
 the better of two given liquids, drink it, and imme- 
 diately afterwards give a full description of all that 
 had passed in his mind during the act of choice. This 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 127 
 
 introspection (as such a description is usually called) 
 was taken down verbatim by the experimenter. 
 Besides this, the time taken for each act of choice was 
 measured by a special instrument, called the Vernier 
 Chronoscope, which measures intervals of time correct 
 to oor of a second. There were three subjects, all 
 thoroughly experienced in introspection, and between 
 them they were responsible for 574 experiments, in 
 which the liquids were paired in different ways, each 
 pair recurring at intervals. In this way habits of 
 choice were gradually established for each pair of 
 liquids. The evolution of such habits could therefore 
 be studied in the introspections of the subjects. For 
 a full account of these the reader is once again referred 
 to Boyd Barrett’s book. Here only two cases will be 
 given: (a) one in which the choice was easy and, (b) 
 one in which the choice was difficult. 
 
 (a) The results obtained in the first case are given 
 in Table I. It represents experiments Nos. 28, 42, 63, 
 84 and 90. These took place on December 3, 7, 12, 
 Ig and 20 respectively. Of the two liquids, “Jor” was 
 pleasant, “Laix’” unpleasant. There was therefore no 
 difficulty of choice. 
 
 If we examine the table, we notice the following 
 points :— 
 
 (1) The reaction times decrease from approximately 
 1'2 seconds to ‘8 second and then again to ‘4 second. 
 
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Growth and Control of Habits 129 
 
 (2) The structural phenomena are reduced to a 
 minimum. After the third experiment the subject only 
 looks at each liquid once before he makes his choice. 
 
 (3) The physical phenomena disappear with the 
 exception of the one essential judgment, such as “It’s 
 the other.” 
 
 (4) Feelings of pleasure and the reverse disappear 
 even more readily than other phenomena. 
 
 In other words, automatic choice means economy 
 both of time and of nervous energy. 
 
 (b) Table II gives a case in which choice was dif- 
 ficult, “Laix” and “Choux’’ being both so exceedingly 
 unpleasant that neither was ever chosen unless pitted 
 against the other. As will be seen from the table, the 
 introspection shows all the signs of hesitation, with the 
 annoyance and weariness that attend it. The hesita- 
 tion begins in choice 3, develops through choices 4, 5 
 and 6, and is finally overcome in the course of the 
 last three experiments. 
 
 The main points to be noticed in the first six 
 introspections are :-— 
 
 (1) The irregularity in the reaction times, which 
 show two increases, each followed by a decrease, in- 
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 the choice was easy (cf. Table I). 
 
 (2) The inconsistency in choice, i.e. the fact that 
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132 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 shown above, every action lays the foundation for 
 the corresponding habit. Thus even to take “Laix” 
 twice would be sufficient to form a slight tendency to 
 choose it, and would therefore make it a little more 
 difficult to form a habit of selecting “Choux.’”’ Thus 
 inconsistency of choice causes delay and waste of 
 energy. 
 
 (3) The amount of oscillation from one to the other 
 and the feelings of regret and annoyance that were 
 recorded. These, too, would be responsible for much 
 waste of energy. 
 
 The way in which the tendency to hesitate was finally 
 overcome will be evident from introspection 7. This 
 shows that the subject: (1) consciously avoided oscilla- 
 tion by fixing his eyes on “Laix,” and (2) strengthened 
 his motive for choosing “Choux” by appealing to the 
 general principle, “Take the more familiar.”’ 
 
 Finally, the success of this method is evident from 
 the fact that the choice was felt to be easy once it had 
 been adopted. (See introspections for Feb. 1 and 
 Feb. 8.) 
 
 To sum up, the development of a habit of choice is 
 hindered by: (1) careless, hurried or irresponsible acts 
 of choice, and (2) regrets, annoyance, etc., over past 
 choices. It is therefore well to formulate clear scales 
 of value whenever this is at all possible, and to appeal 
 to some general principle when it seems impossible to 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 133 
 
 decide between the different alternatives on any other 
 ground. If we do this on the first occasion, we shall 
 feel that we have a good motive behind our choice, and 
 shall therefore not feel tempted to change our line 
 of action after we have laid the foundation for a 
 habit. In cases where choice is difficult, this will 
 mean an appreciable saving both of time and of 
 energy. 
 
 (3) The So-called “Transference” of Habits.— 
 When we train children at school in neatness, punctu- 
 ality, etc., we do so partly in order to make school- 
 work possible, but mainly in the hope of providing our 
 pupils with a nucleus of habits which they will find 
 useful throughout life. It is therefore very important 
 for us to know under what conditions our efforts are 
 likely to meet with success in this respect. 
 
 It must be borne in mind that a habit is merely 
 an acquired tendency to act in one particular way in 
 response to one particular stimulus. If, then, we 
 change the stimulus, we thereby cause the nervous 
 energy to take a different path, and have consequently 
 no right to expect that we can still obtain the habitual 
 reaction. Thus punctuality at school is in itself no 
 guarantee for punctuality out of school. If the habit 
 has only been formed in relation to school, it should 
 theoretically only function in relation to school. 
 
 This theoretical conclusion is in agreement with the 
 
134 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 results obtained by Squire, in an experiment conducted 
 to “determine whether the habit of producing neat 
 papers in arithmetic will function with reference to neat 
 written work in other subjects.’ She found that “the 
 results were almost startling in their failure to show 
 the slightest improvement in language and spelling 
 papers, although the improvement in arithmetic papers 
 was noticeable from the first.”” (See Bagley, Educative 
 Process, 1905, Chapter XIII, p. 208.) 
 
 Yet, in spite of theory and in spite of experiment, 
 we know that this is not a correct statement of the 
 case. It is true that many a habit carefully fostered 
 at school is lost in adult life but many another survives, 
 and though most persons are only neat in this or that, 
 yet there are undoubtedly a certain number whom one 
 could correctly describe as “neat all round.” There 
 must therefore be some force at work which we have 
 
 not yet considered. 
 The problem will be made clearer by reference to an 
 experiment of Ruediger, which forms the complement 
 of that of Squire. Ruediger set out to discover 
 whether “the ideal of neatness brought in connection 
 with, and applied to one school subject functions in 
 other school subjects.”” What exactly this is intended 
 to imply becomes clear by referring to the first three of 
 
 *The Indirect Improvement of Mental Functions through 
 Ideals, Educational Review, November, 1908. 
 
Growth and Control of Habits ee 
 
 the instructions he gave to the teachers who were 
 responsible for the training. 
 
 These are as follows :— 
 
 “(1) In the written work of one school subject pay 
 all the attention you can both to the nabit and to the 
 ideal of neatness. Demand neat papers, have them 
 re-written when necessary. 
 
 “(2) Talk frequently with the class on the im- 
 portance of neatness in dress, business, the home, 
 hospitals, etc., connecting it as far as you can with the 
 subject under experiment. 
 
 “(3) Do not bring up the subject of neatness in 
 connection with the other studies at school. If the 
 pupils bring up these studies quietly substitute some- 
 guing-elsey 4). .7 
 
 It is clear from this that Ruediger aimed at develop- 
 ing a general desire for neatness as well as the habit 
 of doing neat work in one particular subject. The 
 result he obtained in this way is given by the following 
 extract from the same paper :— 
 
 “Fyidently neatness made conscious as an ideal or 
 aim in connection with only one school subject does 
 function in other school subjects. Directing our 
 attention to groups 1 and 3” (the two classes in which 
 the instructions were carried out accurately), “the most 
 marked improvement of the papers occurred respec- 
 tively in geography and arithmetic, the subjects in 
 
136 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 which neatness was emphasised, but there was un- 
 questionable improvement on the average also in other 
 subjects.” 
 
 If we now compare Squire’s experiment with that 
 of Ruediger, we see that the vital difference between 
 them is the difference in the generality of the desire that 
 was used by the two experiments. Clearly desire must 
 have played its part in Squire’s experiment, though no 
 special mention is made of the fact. Otherwise there 
 could have been no improvement in the work of the 
 children. The interesting point is that the training these 
 children were given was calculated to make them want 
 to improve in arithmetic alone, and that this was, in 
 fact, the only subject in which their work did become 
 neater. Similarly, the improvement was more general 
 in Ruediger’s experiment, because the desire that was 
 stimulated was more general in this case. In other 
 words, the children responded in each case to the 
 training that was given. The inculcation of a limited 
 desire produced a limited improvement, that of a 
 general desire a more general improvement. Hence, 
 when we see what appears to be a general habit at work, 
 we are really only observing the total effect of a 
 number of particular habits, each one of which was 
 acquired separately in order to satisfy the more or less 
 general desire which acted as the common stimulus 
 for all of them, 
 
Growth and Control of Habits 137 
 
 In any particular case, both the extent to which a 
 habit spreads and its permanence, must, therefore, 
 depend on the desire which acts as stimulus or motive 
 force. A child may look upon, e.g., punctuality as a 
 rather superfluous virtue which is for some reason 
 exacted by school authorities. He may yet be punctual 
 at school, because he desires the approval of his teachers 
 or school-fellows. It is, however, very unlikely that 
 such a child will “transfer” the habit to activities con- 
 nected with his home life, or that he will be punctual of 
 his own accord once the pressure of school opinion has 
 been removed. 
 
 In other words, new habits suited to a change in 
 environment will only be formed in so far as the motive 
 that was responsible for the original habit is felt to be 
 applicable to that environment. Hence, the less a 
 motive is bound up with any particular environment, 
 the greater is the chance for so-called transference. 
 Evidently the conviction that “this is worth doing for 
 its own sake”’ is likely to produce the most widespread 
 results, always assuming that it has real driving force 
 behind it. How such a conviction develops will be 
 discussed in the chapters on Character, 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 EMOTION AND SYMPATHY | 
 
 A. Emotion. — 
 (1) The James-Lange Theory of Emotions. 
 (2) The Biological Value of Pleasure-toned Emotions. 
 (3) The Control of Emotions. 
 B. Sympathy. 
 (1) The Psychology of “Pure” Sympathy. 
 
 (2) The Possible Effects of Tendencies which Check 
 Imitation. 
 
 (a) Indifference. 
 (b) Expression in Emotion. 
 (c) Desire to Help. 
 (3) The Growth of Sympathy in Childhood and Adoles- 
 cence. 
 
 (a) The Importance of Personal Experience and 
 Imagination. 
 
 (b) Problems connected with the Self-absorption of 
 the Adolescent. 
 
 (c) Problems connected with the Awkwardness and 
 Shyness of the Adolescent. 
 
 A. Emotion 
 
 (1) The James-Lange Theory of Emotions.—We 
 saw in Chapter II that certain of the impulses may 
 
 be accompanied by feeling tones so characteristic that 
 138 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 139 
 
 popular usage has given them definite names. These 
 are the emotions fear, anger, love, hate, etc. They are 
 states of mind with which every one is familiar in 
 greater or less degree. Every one can therefore form 
 some idea of their constitution by examining emotional 
 stages of his own immediately after they have run 
 their course. If he does this, he will find that each 
 characteristic feeling tone is accompanied by physio- 
 logical changes within the body which are in some 
 way very closely connected with it. In the case of acute 
 fear, for instance, the victim of the emotion trembles 
 violently, he. becomes covered with cold sweat, the 
 hairs on the skin stand erect, his heart beats wildly 
 -and his breathing is hurried and irregular. If the 
 fear is less extreme, the symptoms are, of course, not 
 so well marked, but even then we can often tell that a 
 certain person is frightened by what we call his “‘ex- 
 pression,” that is to say, by the external bodily changes 
 which form part of the system of the impulse to avoid 
 danger. Indeed, so closely is the emotion connected 
 with the bodily and visceral changes that accompany 
 it, that it has been suggested that what we call emo- 
 tion is really only the effect these changes have upon 
 the mind. This is the physiological theory of emo- 
 tions. It was enunciated at about the same time by 
 James and Lange, and is, therefore, usually called the 
 James-Lange Theory of Emotions. James states it 
 
140 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 thus: “The bodily changes follow directly the per- 
 ception of the exciting fact, and our feeling of the 
 same changes as they occur is the emotion” (Prin- 
 ciples, p. 449). 
 
 The main arguments in favour of this theory are 
 the following :— 
 
 (a) We may get widespread bodily effects before 
 the emotion is aroused. “If we abruptly see a dark, 
 moving form in the woods, our heart stops beating and 
 we catch our breath instantly and before any articulate 
 idea of danger can arise” (Principles, p. 451). 
 
 (b) The bodily symptoms are so much part of the 
 emotional state that there seems to be no emotion left, 
 if we try to abstract from our consciousness all feel- 
 ings of these symptoms. “Can one fancy the state of 
 rage and picture no ebullition in the chest, no flushing 
 of the face, no dilation of the nostrils, no clenching of 
 the teeth, no impulse to vigorous action, but in their 
 stead limp muscles, calm breathing and a placid face? 
 The present writer, for one, certainly cannot. The 
 rage is as completely evaporated as the sensation of its 
 so-called manifestations, and the only thing that can 
 possibly be supposed to take its place is some cold- 
 blooded and dispassionate judicial sentence, confined 
 entirely to the intellectual realm, to the effect that a 
 certain person or persons merit chastisement for their 
 sins’ (Principles, II, p. 452). 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 141 
 
 The main argument against the theory is that it 
 does not explain how different visceral processes can 
 produce the same emotion. Why, for instance, do 
 some people turn red, others white, with anger? It is, 
 however, possible that the anger does, in fact, feel 
 somewhat different in the two cases. Clearly the ques- 
 tion can only be settled finally by means of experiments 
 conducted for that purpose, but the results that have 
 been obtained by different investigators are at present 
 too contradictory to enable us to arrive at any con- 
 clusion. We may assume, then, that emotions cannot 
 exist without accompanying bodily changes, but 
 whether they are interdependent, and, if so, in what 
 way, are problems which still await solution (cf. p. 
 UT): 
 
 At the same time it is worth while to bear in mind 
 that expression can, at any rate, initiate mild states of 
 emotion and perpetuate strong ones. If we frown, 
 we get a momentary feeling of anger, and if we can 
 make ourselves ‘‘smooth the brow and smile,’ the 
 anger seems thereby to become less, 
 
 (2) The Biological Value of Pleasure-toned Emo- 
 tions.—The biological value of pleasure-toned emotions 
 is another problem which calls for solution. At first 
 sight anything beyond a keen desire to attain the end 
 of the impulse (e. g. to escape from danger) would 
 appear to be a hindrance rather than a help, seeing that 
 
142 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 it uses up energy which might easily be expended more 
 profitably. Every one knows how fatal it is to lose 
 one’s head at a critical moment, and to “lose one’s 
 head”’ is really neither more nor less than to let ‘one’s 
 emotions gain the upper hand, that is to say, to dis- 
 sipate energy in emotional expression instead of using 
 it to select the best line of action. 
 
 It should be noticed that it only depends on the 
 strength of an emotion whether it is pleasant or un- 
 pleasant. We rather enjoy feeling just a little afraid 
 or just a little angry. We tend to prolong such ex- 
 periences, instead of seeking to remove the cause of 
 the emotion. As the student of biology knows, inborn 
 tendencies which produce pleasure, when expressed in 
 action, are, on the whole, of advantage to the individual. 
 It is therefore not without good reason that a slight 
 emotion is pleasurable. To understand what this 
 reason may be, we need only recall that an emotion is 
 produced when more energy is set free by the percept 
 than is used in action, and that energy which is set 
 free in this way normally seeks an outlet of some kind, 
 so that an emotion is produced when there is surplus 
 energy flowing through the nervous system. The fact 
 that a slight emotion is pleasurable is, in short, Nature’s 
 way of teaching us to “think before we leap,” for it 
 makes the time between perception and _ reaction 
 pleasurable, and thus tempts us to prolong it when the 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 143 
 
 need is not too urgent. We shall realise the value of 
 this by considering what would happen if an individual 
 always experienced acute discomfort in the period be- 
 tween perception and reaction. Under such circum- 
 stances he would naturally strive to react as quickly 
 as possible. This would mean that he would always 
 choose the most obvious form of reaction and would 
 therefore find it very difficult to adapt himself to a 
 changing environment. 
 
 (3) The Control of Emotions.—While a slight emo- 
 tional state has thus an important function to fulfil, the 
 matter is very different when action is delayed so long, 
 or when the amount of energy set free by the, percept 
 is so great that the individual is overwhelmed by his 
 emotions, In such a case the means by which he tries 
 to relieve pressure may act as safety-valves for energy 
 that would otherwise work harm, but they do not, as 
 a rule, help him to attain the end of the impulse which 
 was the cause of the trouble. We are thus led to con- 
 sider the advisability of preventing this kind of over- 
 flow by training children in self-control in the matter 
 of emotions, | 
 
 The first thing to realise in this connection is that 
 an impulse cannot be killed. The nervous energy which 
 is set free by the percept may be driven into desirable 
 or into undesirable channels, but it cannot be annihi- 
 lated. 
 
144 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 This may seem to be untrue at first sight, for every 
 adult has learnt to be indifferent to experiences that 
 would at one time have roused fear, anger or curiosity. 
 It is, however, easy to show that this is due to a 
 different cause. To take a concrete example: When 
 moving staircases were first put into the stations of the 
 London Underground Railways, it was a common oc- 
 currence to see people show real fear in stepping on or 
 off these staircases, whereas most persons do it quite 
 mechanically to-day. Those of us who had occasion 
 to use these staircases frequently, found that the fear 
 quickly became slight enough to be nothing more than 
 a little pleasurable excitement, and that it soon dis- 
 appeared entirely. But this does not mean that we had 
 cured ourselves of our fear of danger. What it means 
 is that we had learnt from experience exactly what to 
 do and how to do it. Thus the moving staircase 
 ceased to be an unknown object which might prove 
 dangerous, and in this way dropped out of the class 
 of things that rouse the impulse to avoid pain and the 
 accompanying emotion of fear. The next unknown 
 thing that we have to face will undoubtedly again cause 
 fear if it seems likely to threaten our safety. In other 
 words, every increase in knowledge and power will 
 remove certain experiences from the class of things 
 that rouse this or that emotion, but when a percept 
 or idea does fall within a certain class, then it is im- 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 145 
 
 possible to prevent ourselves from experiencing the 
 corresponding impulse. 
 
 It follows that we can never kill an emotion, even if 
 it were desirable to do so. All we can do with an 
 emotion which is liable to get out of hand is to learn 
 to control it, or to repress it. Moreover, since the sur- 
 plus nervous energy has to escape in some form, it is 
 obviously wiser to guide it into useful, or at least harm- 
 less, channels than merely to block the outlet Nature 
 has provided and trust to luck that it will escape with- 
 out doing us injury. Hence mere repression ought 
 always to be discouraged. How much self-control is 
 desirable in a particular case depends in the main on 
 the traditions of the community in which the individual 
 has to live. A person who is felt to be rather cold in 
 one environment is quite likely to be considered too 
 emotional in another. Yet, since self-control prevents 
 dissipation of energy, a certain amount of it should 
 undoubtedly be acquired by every person who is not 
 - abnormally lacking in emotional life. 
 
 What exactly is involved in self-control can be dis- 
 covered partly through introspection, partly by study- 
 ing the behaviour of others. If we follow these two 
 lines of investigation, we shall, I think, find that it is 
 really a complex result which is obtained by the co- 
 operation of a number of factors. Fundamental to all 
 is the conviction that self-control is desirable. But 
 
146 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 that alone is not sufficient. The individual has to learn 
 both what to avoid and what to do before he is able 
 to acquire the habits of choice which will give him the 
 necessary command over himself. Usually he is left 
 to find out these things for himself. Thus he discovers 
 that a slight emotion tends to disappear, if it is not 
 allowed expression. He may also learn that it is not 
 safe to allow himself the luxury of dwelling on a strong 
 desire, if he does not intend to satisfy it. 
 
 Then, too, he is likely to make certain discoveries on 
 the positive side, such as the importance of keeping 
 himself fully occupied when he is trying to free him- 
 self from something that is preying on his mind and 
 the extent to which a really interesting task will help 
 him in this connection. Besides this, he may learn 
 consciously to divert superfluous energy into suitable 
 channels, to “‘try, try again,” instead of brooding over 
 failure. At any rate he probably acquires certain 
 methods of side-tracking energy while the impulse is 
 actually at work. Thus some yawn when afraid, 
 others sing when angry. It is worth while to notice 
 that people resort to devices of this nature without 
 being aware of their purpose. Thus an individual may 
 not realise that there is a connection between, say, his 
 attempt to control his fear and his tendency to yawn, 
 but this does not, of course, make the act any less 
 effective as a safety-valve. 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 147 
 
 As devices of this nature are discovered they tend 
 to be adopted, with the result that habits of choice 
 grow up in relation to situations which the individual 
 has to encounter with sufficient frequency. Thus self- 
 control involves certain habits and certain knowledge, 
 as well as the necessary desire. It should therefore not 
 be expected from young children. The educator can, 
 however, prepare the ground for it by finding suitable 
 safety-valves when impulsive activity has to be checked, 
 and by giving practical advice when the child is old 
 enough to appreciate it. With preparatory training 
 such as this the adolescent would find himself in pos- 
 session of habits and knowledge which would make it 
 comparatively easy for him to acquire true self-control 
 —that is to say, power to divert surplus energy into 
 useful or at least harmless channels. 
 
 B. Sympathy 
 
 If a boy comes upon a group of schoolmates who 
 look frightened, he also experiences a pang of fear; if 
 they seem curious, he begins to wonder what is hap- 
 pening. But if that same boy is passing through the 
 stage of despising girls, he will pass a group of girls 
 who look angry or puzzled with a cursory glance and 
 the conviction that it is no concern of his. The same 
 is, of course, true of adults. We have all of us reason 
 
148 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 to know that it requires a definite effort not to become 
 infected by the emotional state of any one who in any 
 sense of the word “belongs” to us, even when we have 
 no idea what is the cause of his excitement. Yet the 
 behaviour of people outside our “group” leaves us in- 
 different, or even arouses some contrary state of mind 
 such as amusement or annoyance. The tendency to 
 “feel with” other people is therefore closely bound up 
 with gregariousness. The larger and the more numer- 
 ous the groups to which we feel we belong, the 
 more often will this tendency be called into play. Any 
 individual who belongs to our group for the purpose 
 in hand will inevitably rouse it, and one who does not 
 will as certainly leave us unaffected. It will be con- 
 venient to call this tendency to feel with others of our 
 own group pure psychological sympathy, in order to 
 distinguish it from sympathy in the popular sense of 
 the word. 
 
 (1) The Psychology of “Pure” Sympathy.—We 
 have already seen that gregariousness (that is to say, 
 fear of solitude with or without the desire for friends) 
 tends to make us imitate the behaviour of others, and 
 that this imitation extends to emotions as well as 
 action. We know from our study of imitation that 
 the reproduction of the actions of others is due to the 
 interaction of one or other form of gregariousness 
 with one or more sentiments or complexes. We have 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 149 
 
 now to account for the reproduction of emotional 
 states. It seems probable that this is primarily due to 
 our tendency to imitate the expression of our com- 
 panions, since it is sufficient to assume the typical ex- 
 pression of an emotion (e.g. the frown and the clenched 
 fists of anger) in order to experience the same to a 
 slight extent. But this does not explain whence we 
 derive the energy to feel furiously angry as a member 
 of an angry crowd when we do not even know the 
 cause of the disturbance. Nor does it explain why or 
 how we learn to notice so small a thing as the expres- 
 sion of another.? 
 
 The tendency to notice the expression of others is 
 probably acquired during childhood under the pressure 
 of the self-preservative impulses. A child is depend- 
 ent on others for most of the good things of life and 
 he usually finds out at a comparatively early age that 
 it often only depends on the mood of his elders whether 
 they give or withhold the necessary facilities for some 
 exploit. Thus he soon discovers that the moods of 
 others are worthy of consideration. It may be that 
 experience would gradually teach him to connect certain 
 expressions with certain moods, but as a matter of fact 
 
 **We must become aware of an act before we can imitate it, 
 but such awareness need not necessarily be conscious. It may 
 be due to the activity of some unconscious complex (cf. Chap- 
 
 ter IV, p. 98). Both these points are therefore in need of fur- 
 ther consideration. 
 
150 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 he is rarely left to his own resources in this respect. 
 “Don’t worry Father, can’t you see that he is tired?” 
 makes him at least try to “see,” and ‘We can risk this 
 
 ’ 
 
 to-day, Mr. X is obviously in a good temper,” makes 
 him anxious to acquire similar wisdom when the pre- 
 diction turns out to be correct. Once the desire has 
 been aroused, the rest is a matter of learning by trial 
 and error. At first many mistakes are made, but 
 there is no lack of practice and the child of seven or 
 eight is often already quite expert in interpreting such 
 forms of expression as come within his experience. 
 The strength which an induced emotion can acquire 
 in a crowd can be explained in the following way. As 
 we know, we produce a slight feeling of anger in 
 ourselves by assuming the characteristic expression of » 
 anger, that is to say, we stimulate the system of im- 
 pulse to fight by this means. If our expression is due 
 to the fact that we are imitating the members of a 
 crowd of which we form part, then our gregariousness 
 is active and the resulting desire (conscious or un- 
 conscious) to be like the others provides energy for 
 the impulse to fight. Self-regard may be stimulated 
 as well, if the persons whose anger induced ours hap- 
 pen to belong to a group of which we are rather proud 
 to be members, for it is then impossible to own that 
 they are in the wrong without at the same time hurting 
 our self-respect. Thus a number of powerful senti- 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 151 
 
 ments and complexes may reinforce the original feeling 
 of anger. 
 
 (2) Possible Effects of Tendencies which Check 
 Imitation.—(a) Indifference. What happens there- 
 after depends on circumstances. We may allow the 
 energy to take its primitive path: then we imitate the 
 behaviour of our companions without giving a thought 
 to the why and wherefore. If they fight, we fight; if 
 they run away, we run away. In such a case all the 
 energy of the group will be expended in action, and 
 there will then be little or no emotion. On the other 
 hand, there may be no such outlet. Thus the crowd 
 which is listening to an orator who is enflaming it with 
 a desire to fight for some cause, has no outlet in action, 
 because the enemy is not at hand. Hence the energy 
 which is being set free takes the only path that is open 
 for it, namely, that of anger and its expression. More- 
 over, the anger of any individual is fed by the anger 
 of his neighbours if he identifies himself with the 
 crowd. 
 
 Suppose, however, that some of the members of the 
 audience feel superior to the rest of the crowd, that 
 they have little belief in the orator, or enough know- 
 ledge to be aware that some of his statements are not 
 accurate. Clearly these will remain calm and critical 
 throughout the harangue, or, if stirred at all, will only 
 be aware of a desire to oppose the orator. They do 
 
152. The Education of Behaviour 
 
 not acknowledge him as their leader, and are therefore 
 not influenced by him. They do not acknowledge the 
 crowd as one of their “groups,” and are therefore not 
 infected by its excitement. 
 
 (b) Expression in Emotion—We may, however, 
 “feel with” our companions and yet check the impulse 
 to act like them. In that case there are two courses 
 open to us: we may either decide to do nothing at all, 
 or we may use our energy to help them in some 
 way. 
 
 If we do nothing, the energy which has been set 
 free tends to escape by the channel of emotional ex- 
 pression, since that is the only one which is open to 
 it. As we shall see later, this provides us with a 
 valuable source of recreation by enabling us to “live 
 through” the emotions depicted in a work of fiction 
 or engendered by the perception of beauty, without 
 forcing us to express ourselves in action (cf. Passive 
 Play, p. 233). On the other hand, it is not for the 
 good of the community that an individual should get 
 into the habit of finding relief in emotion, since such 
 a course can only end in self-indulgence and senti- 
 mentalism. 
 
 (c) Desire to Help.—tlf we are conscious of a desire 
 to help our companions, the energy which was set free 
 by observing them must have been diverted to stimulate 
 the protective impulse. In such a case we may be 
 
Emotion and Sympathy T53 
 
 stirred so deeply that we act first and think afterwards. 
 As a rule there is, however, time for the self to wake 
 up, and it then depends on the idea we have of our 
 “self” whether we are willing to make the necessary 
 sacrifice. If the cost is not too great, we allow the im- 
 pulse to take its normal path, and consequently give 
 help of some kind (cf. Protective Impulse, p. 43). 
 Otherwise we check our desire to help and expend the 
 energy that has been set free in various forms of emo- 
 tional expression, such as assurances of what we would 
 do, if we could. 
 
 It should be noticed that the sympathy which ex- 
 presses itself in a desire to help always implies a certain 
 degree of superiority on the part of the giver. At 
 that moment he is, at any rate, not in the sarhe diffi- 
 culty; the fact that he would like to help is sufficient 
 to prove that. Moreover, if he allows the impulse free 
 play, he provides so much more food for his self- 
 assertion. Hence, giving without receiving in return 
 is likely to lead to patronage, if not to pity. True 
 practical sympathy only exists between equals, that is 
 to say, between persons who are able and willing to 
 help each other. 
 
 Within our own group we respect our superiors, 
 sympathise with our equals and pity our inferiors. 
 Outside our own group we are dealing with creatures 
 we do not know, with beings with whom we have 
 
154 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 nothing in common. They do not stir our gregarious- 
 ness and are therefore unable to awaken our sym- 
 pathy. If they seem dangerous, we avoid them; if 
 they seem weak and defenceless, we ignore them or 
 use them to satisfy our love of power. When we are 
 dealing with members of our own group sympathy 
 often forces us to restrain ourselves. Here there is no 
 such check. They are so different from us that we 
 are unable to feel with them. If challenged, we should 
 probably assert quite honestly, “Oh, they don’t mind,” 
 or, “It does not hurt them as it would you or me.” 
 This is the attitude of mind which accounts for much 
 of the cruelty of young boys. It is true that an act 
 of cruelty is occasionally a form of revenge. If a 
 child is repressed on every side and feels in revolt 
 against his environment, he may suddenly discover 
 that he can find relief for his feelings by maltreating 
 a cat oradog. Such a child may learn to enjoy watch- 
 ing the fear and suffering of his victims. But these 
 cases are fortunately rare. In most cases cruelty is 
 simply due to thoughtlessness combined with self- 
 assertion. The animal does not rouse the sympathy 
 of the boy, because his groups are not yet wide enough 
 to include it, and he can therefore ill-treat it without 
 being checked by any feeling of remorse at the suf- 
 fering he is causing. Obviously, cruelty of this kind 
 can be prevented by awakening the boy’s power to 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 155 
 
 “feel with” the creature in question. In this way it is 
 usually possible to turn the persecutor into quite an 
 effective protector. 
 
 In dealing with the inferior members of our own 
 groups we are not likely to be guilty of intentional 
 cruelty, in spite of our feeling of superiority, because 
 psychological sympathy makes us “feel with’? them in 
 their troubles. Moreover, self-assertion prevents us 
 from imitating them and we must therefore either vent 
 our energy in emotion or use it in giving help of some 
 kind. Most people would, however, agree that serious 
 harm is at times done by the help which is given in 
 this way. This is due partly to self-assertion and 
 partly to ignorance. As the recipients are our inferiors, 
 we are prepared to find them different in some ways, 
 and it is therefore easy for us to salve our conscience 
 with the reflection that they ‘“‘will not mind’ when we 
 are tempted to give help which will satisfy our love 
 of power at the expense of their self-respect. Moreover, 
 it is only in the wider groups, such as those comprised 
 by humanity and nationality, that we acknowledge 
 them as comrades. In other respects they belong to 
 groups about which we know nothing and for which 
 we have consequently no sympathy. We are there- 
 fore unable to appreciate their needs as clearly as those 
 of our equals and are consequently in danger of giving 
 the wrong kind of help even when actuated by the best 
 
156 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 of motives. In short, the giver needs knowledge and 
 self-control, if his help is to be of real use to the 
 recipient. From the point of view of community life, 
 it is therefore very important that young people should 
 be trained to use their protective impulse to the best 
 advantage. How far this is secured by encouraging 
 them to contribute to public charities is at least open 
 to question (cf. Protective Impulse, pp. 43-46). 
 
 (3) The Growth of Sympathy in Childhood and 
 Adolescence.—Before concluding, it will be worth 
 while to study the factors on which the growth of 
 sympathy depends. 
 
 I shall begin with pure psychological sympathy. As 
 we have just seen, this is the tendency to reproduce 
 in ourselves the emotions which are being experienced 
 by our companions. Thus the frequency with which 
 an individual “feels with’ others depends primarily on 
 the number of persons who are able to stimulate his 
 gregariousness. This must in turn depend on the 
 strength of the underlying sentiments and complexes, 
 but the range of persons with whom he is able to sym- 
 pathise can be greatly increased by providing him with 
 suitable experience and by encouraging him to bring 
 his imagination to bear on the problems which are 
 raised by the conduct of others. 
 
 (a) The Importance of Personal Experience and 
 Imagination.—The need for personal experience be- 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 157 
 
 comes obvious when we reflect that we have to gather 
 the mental states of others from their expression 
 and their words. We can only see what we know. It 
 is true that we tend to put some meaning into every 
 act and word of our companions, but it is the meaning 
 which is most 1n accord with our own experience and 
 it may therefore be hopelessly incorrect. 
 
 Children often give us an opportunity to realise. this. 
 They do not “see” when the adult is worried or tired, 
 they do not understand when he tries to explain his 
 point of view to them: A harassed peasant farmer is 
 driven by the need for sympathy to tell his little 
 daughter of five that he is going to clear a piece of 
 waste ground single-handed. The child is greatly 
 flattered by her father’s confidence and vaguely aware 
 that there is something wrong, but his hopes and wor- 
 ries are quite beyond her. Anxious to show her 
 interest, she finally asks: “And how about the bird- 
 nests, father?’ (Bazin). 
 
 In childhood we are only able to “feel with” persons 
 whose lives are very similar to our own; but this is 
 no longer the case as we grow older, for we gradually 
 accumulate enough experience to be able to build from 
 it or “imagine” the mental state of persons whose 
 problems are somewhat different from any we have 
 had to tackle. 
 
 During adolescence the individual should therefore 
 
158 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 greatly extend the range of his sympathies. In prac- 
 tice there are, however, great differences in the extent 
 to which this is actually achieved. ‘For some a chance 
 word or a headline in a newspaper is presently suf- 
 ficient to rouse them, others need a detailed account, or 
 even the outward signs of joy or suffering to awaken 
 their sympathy, and a certain number never learn to 
 “feel with’ any one whose life is at all unlike their 
 own. No doubt this is partly due to inborn differences : 
 the more gregarious a person is, the more imaginative 
 he is, the easier does he find it to sympathise with them. 
 All the same it is the environment which decides what 
 use a particular adolescent learns to make of his 
 powers, for he will check or indulge his natural interest 
 in another according to the standards of behaviour 
 of those he admires, and he will do his best to under- 
 stand the point of view of an inferior or rest satisfied 
 with unimaginative patronage according to the example 
 they set him. 
 
 The extent to which we experience “practical sym- 
 pathy,” or a desire to help those in difficulty instead of 
 merely “feeling with’ them, is clearly dependent on 
 similar factors. Innate differences in the strength of 
 the protective impulse must play their part, but the 
 traditions absorbed from the environment are usually 
 far more important. 
 
 (b) The Self-absorption of the Adolescent—The 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 159 
 
 reader may have noticed that the sympathies of the 
 adolescent usually develop by fits and starts. At times 
 he is keenly interested in the doings of others, at times 
 wholly self-absorbed and only able to see things from 
 his own point of view. This is probably unavoidable. 
 Self-preservation impels us to look after ourselves first 
 of all. Hence the success or failure of a companion ap- 
 peals to us primarily as something which might have 
 happened to ourselves. It is true that we “feel with” 
 the other, but we do not rest satisfied with that, if 
 we are at all likely to be in the same position ourselves 
 some day. In such a case our self-regard promptly 
 makes us wonder how we should have acted under 
 similar circumstances. Moreover, if we are compelled 
 to admit to ourselves that we should have been unable 
 to cope with the situation, it causes us to look upon 
 the event as a personal warning, and thus impels us 
 to do our utmost to acquire the qualities which we 
 consider necessary. The adolescent is often in this 
 position, for he is continually hearing or reading about 
 things which might fall to his lot some day and which 
 would certainly find him unprepared. Besides, he oc- 
 casionally has unpleasant experiences of his own. 
 Hence it is not strange to find that there are times 
 when he needs all his energy for the solution of his 
 own problems. When a youth is going through a 
 phase of this kind he may become irritable and difficult, 
 
160 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 for the emotional strain can be very great and he is 
 often only half aware of what is going on within him. 
 In the right environment he is, however, all the better 
 for his spell of egotism. Sooner or later he finds relief 
 in hard intellectual work, in religious exercises, or in a 
 combination of the two. Then his “self” gradually 
 becomes less absorbing and he is once again able to — 
 think of others. 
 
 We may take it, then, that the periods of self- 
 absorption to which the adolescent is liable are due to 
 his efforts to prepare himself for adult life. The 
 difficulties with which he is faced at such times make 
 him peculiarly sensitive to the opinion of those he ad- 
 mires; yet he rarely confides in them, for his thoughts 
 are so vague and his fear of ridicule is so great that 
 he usually finds it impossible to express himself in 
 words. Hence it is often extremely difficult to know 
 what kind of help to give. All the same, it is not wise 
 to leave him entirely to his own resources when he is 
 passing through one of these phases. 
 
 The intelligent youth soon discovers that the pursuit 
 of knowledge or art can be very attractive for its own 
 sake. Asa rule he also finds that people rather respect 
 him for his love of study, and that he can therefore 
 always plead ‘‘work’”’ when he wants to escape from 
 some tiresome social obligation. Hence he is liable 
 to become excessively self-centred, if he is allowed to 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 161 
 
 think that no one has any claim on his time so long 
 as he is doing his work properly. 
 
 Moreover, it is not always love of study that renders 
 a youth self-absorbed, often it is rather fear of life 
 that makes him take to study as a way out of his 
 difficulties. This fear may be due to the example set 
 by some one he admires, or to some shock he has ex- 
 perienced himself. In either case he is seldom aware 
 of the bearing it has on his love of study. Often he 
 does not even know that he is afraid, for he represses 
 the unpleasant thoughts again and again under the in- 
 fluence of shame, and usually ends by “forgetting” 
 them so far as his conscious self is concerned. Unfor- 
 tunately this does not mean that he has thereby con- 
 quered his fear of life, since that can only be done 
 by facing the unpleasant experience squarely (cf. 
 Complexes, p. 88). As we have already seen, the fear 
 is merely driven below the surface of consciousness 
 and is able to affect his behaviour as much as ever. 
 Still, he has gained a certain amount in personal com- 
 fort. He has forgotten all about it, and can therefore 
 honestly persuade himself that his dislike for social 
 intercourse is merely a matter of “taste.” Usually he 
 goes a step further and decides that those who differ 
 from him in this matter are both frivolous and super- 
 ficial. Once this stage has been reached he is quite 
 safe from painful recollections, for the opinions of 
 
162 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 those others cease to be worthy of his notice. Hence- 
 forth he can concentrate on his own development with- 
 out a single qualm of conscience. Needless to say, 
 the result is likely to be an individual who is both self- 
 centred and narrow-minded. 
 
 It is difficult to deal with a case of this kind in its 
 later stages, because the individual is perfectly satisfied 
 with the course he has mapped out for himself. Ideally 
 the emotional shock should, of course, have been 
 avoided. Failing that, its effect can be minimised 
 by giving the adolescent an opportunity to “talk it 
 out” with a sympathetic elder before he has begun to 
 repress it. This, too, is often impossible, for pride 
 usually impels a youth to keep his fears to himself. 
 Thus he may have time to build up his defences fairly 
 securely before we discover that there is anything 
 amiss. In such a case a direct frontal attack is use- 
 less, for he does not consider himself at fault. It may, 
 however, be possible to influence him indirectly 
 through his environment. If he finds himself among 
 people whose efficiency in his chosen pursuits is greater 
 than his own, and who yet consider it wrong to allow 
 their work to absorb all their thoughts, he may begin 
 to wonder whether he has planned his own life wisely 
 and may thus be led to try to overcome his dislike 
 for social intercourse. Whether he succeeds in this 
 will then depend on the amount of hold his fear has 
 
Emotion and Sympathy 163 
 
 got over him. He may be able to conquer it. On 
 the other hand, it may check him at every turn, making 
 it impossible for him to “feel with’ any one whose 
 tastes are at all unlike his own. If he fails, there is 
 still one other way of helping him. The forgotten 
 fear can be brought back to his consciousness in the 
 way that was described in Chapter IV (see p. 79). 
 He can then be made to see the bearing it has on his 
 other difficulties, and can thus be taught the importance 
 of fighting it in the open. He may even then need 
 encouragement from some one he respects, to make 
 him persist in his efforts, but with that he is almost 
 certain to overcome his dislike in the end. 
 
 (c) The Awkwardness and Shyness of the Adoles- 
 cent.—Sometimes the development of the sympathy of 
 an adolescent is checked in a different way. He does not 
 consciously turn away from others, but he is practically 
 driven from their presence by his awkwardness and 
 shyness. He trembles and turns red in the presence 
 of strangers, he may even begin to stammer—in fact, 
 he shows all the signs of fear. It is easy enough to 
 convince such a one that his fear of strangers is 
 illogical, but that does not help him, for it does not 
 touch the true cause of his difficulties. As analysis 
 shows, that is always an experience which happened 
 perhaps years ago and which was repressed at the time, 
 instead of being faced openly. Thus Dr. Bruce gives 
 
164 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 us the following account of a young man who suffered 
 from this extreme form of shyness: From among the 
 half-forgotten memories of his boyhood there ap- 
 peared the picture of his first employer—a stern, cold, 
 hard man with piercing eyes. “Those eyes seemed to 
 be on me everywhere I went. They seemed to be watch- 
 ing for the least mistake I made. I began to wonder 
 what would happen to me if I did make mistakes. Then 
 I began to feel incompetent, and to fear that he would 
 notice my incompetency. I grew nervous, awkward, 
 timid. Whenever he spoke to me I jumped, I blushed, 
 I trembled. After a time I did the same when anybody 
 spoke to me... . I try not to think of him, but I 
 know I do” (Handicaps of Childhood, p. 179). 
 
 In this instance the individual was cured by per- 
 suading him that the behaviour of his employer was 
 the real cause of his difficulties, but that it need not 
 affect him any longer and that he would therefore be 
 able to conquer his shyness, if he made a serious at- 
 tempt to do so. 
 
 Whenever a case of this kind is analysed, similar 
 results seem to be obtained. We may therefore con- 
 clude that the extreme forms of shyness and self- 
 absorption are usually, if not always, due to the re- 
 pression of some painful incident which should have 
 been tackled at the time of its occurrence. 
 
OP a VII 
 THE PSYCHOLOGY OF CHARACTER 
 
 A. The Effect of Individual Differences in :— 
 (1) Disposition and general Attitude towards Life. 
 (2) Will-power. 
 
 B. The Attainment of Strength of Character. 
 
 (1) The Importance of Organisation and (2) of the Choice 
 of a Suitable Master-Sentiment. 
 
 (3) The Limitations of Will-power. 
 C. The Meaning of a “Fine” Character. 
 
 CHARACTER may be defined as the sum total of all 
 the tendencies which make for consistency in behaviour. 
 When we speak of a person as lacking in character, we 
 mean that he is abnormally impulsive and unreliable. 
 When we do something foolish in a moment of excite- 
 ment, we seek an excuse in the fact that we were not 
 “ourselves” at the time. Thus the character of an 
 individual is seen most clearly in his deliberate acts of 
 choice. 
 
 As would be expected, the forces which determine 
 
 his decision in such a case are partly innate and partly 
 165 
 
166 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 acquired. They may be enumerated as follows: (1) 
 Such sentiments, complexes and habits of choice or 
 action as are involved at the moment; (2) his know- 
 ledge of the subject in hand and of his own limita- 
 tions; (3) his intelligence or ability to make use of 
 what knowledge he has; (4) his general attitude to- 
 wards life; (5) his disposition, and, in cases where 
 there are obstacles to overcome, (6) his will-power. 
 
 The effect of sentiments and complexes has been 
 considered at sufficient length in the preceding pages. 
 The effect of differences in intelligence and the de- 
 pendence of knowledge on intelligence and interest © 
 are too obvious to need discussion. We have still to 
 consider differences in disposition, in the general at- 
 titude towards life and in will-power. 
 
 The disposition of a person depends on the peculiar- 
 ities of his impulses. It makes him irascible, timid or 
 patient, as the case may be. As will be seen in the 
 course of this chapter, there is reason to believe that 
 the amount of will-power of an individual depends on 
 his disposition, and that it can therefore only be af- 
 fected within the limits within which it is possible to 
 alter the latter. 
 
 The general attitude towards life includes such quali- 
 ties as optimism, contentedness and their opposites. 
 These are usually said to show the temperament of a 
 person. They are no doubt in part determined by 
 
The Psychology of Character 167 
 
 another quality which has an important bearing on 
 the development of character, namely, the perseverative 
 tendency of the individual. This is the tendency for 
 ideas and images to recur in the mind when the in- 
 dividual is making no conscious effort to recall them 
 and when their recurrence is not due to the activity 
 of some strong sentiment or complex. It is strong in 
 some persons, weak in others, but there is reason to 
 believe that no normal individual is entirely without 
 it. Its effect on behaviour is more far-reaching than 
 may appear at first sight. The individual in whom 
 ideas of all kinds recur readily is likely to grow cautious 
 and thoughtful, for experiences will tend to ‘“‘perse- 
 verate’”’ for some time and will thus have more chance 
 of becoming fixed in his conscious memory. Such a 
 person will make a reliable leader when he has time 
 to plan his course of action, but he may lose his head 
 if he has to act on the spur of the moment. On the 
 other hand, the individual who has only a slight ten- 
 dency to perseverate is likely to forget past discom- 
 fitures with greater ease. Hence he will tend to be 
 brilliant rather than thorough, daring rather than 
 wise. 
 
 A. Individual Differences 
 
 (1) Differences in Disposition and in the General 
 Attitude towards Life —Our knowledge of the physio- 
 
168 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 logical basis of disposition and temperament is of 
 comparatively recent date. Dr. Head has shown that 
 differences in disposition depend in part on the way in 
 which and on the extent to which the greater brain 
 controls certain portions of the lesser (cf. Myer’s Te-t- 
 book, p. 313). 
 
 This, however, only explains certain kinds of dif- 
 ferences. By far the larger number seem to be due 
 to the activity of the endocrine glands. These organs 
 are very varied in size and are distributed in different 
 parts of the body. Their function is to provide the 
 body with substances which are essential for its health 
 and development. The best known of them is per- 
 haps the thyroid. This is a small mass of cellular 
 tissue, situated in the neck near the “Adam’s apple.” 
 If it does not function properly, the patient may be 
 reduced to a state of apathy bordering on idiocy, where- 
 as too great activity on its part may throw him into 
 a state of excitement verging on that of a maniac. 
 That it is really a secretion of this gland which can 
 be responsible for all this is shown by the fact that 
 patients in whom the gland does not function properly 
 can, as a rule, be restored to a normal state of mind 
 by means of properly regulated doses of the thyroid 
 gland of sheep. 
 
 Another pair of glands which are to-day well known 
 are the adrenal or suprarenal glands (cf. p. 111). In 
 
The Psychology of Character 169 
 
 man they consist of an outer portion, the cortex, 
 and a central portion, the medulla. “It has been said 
 with considerable truth that the secretion from the 
 medulla or core makes for flight, whilst that from the 
 cortex makes for fight. Certain it is that animals 
 with a larger cortex are pugnacious and dangerous, 
 whereas those with a narrow cortex and relatively large 
 medulla are timorous and fugitive.’ 
 
 The much-discussed “monkey glands” belong to the 
 same category, but these two instances will be sufficient 
 to show the extent to which endocrine glands affect 
 the development of the individual. To quote once 
 more from the same article: “According to the exact 
 proportion in which their essences are mixed in your 
 blood, you are tall or short, dark or fair, phlegmatic 
 or choleric, saint or sinner’ (Leonard Williams, of. 
 Cie peieGe }: 
 
 Evidently the development and functioning of these 
 glands is of first-rate importance to the educator. He 
 cannot affect them directly because they are not under 
 the conscious control of the individual (cf. p. 105), 
 but he can aid their normal development by providing 
 hygienic conditions of life. Fresh air, exercise, sleep, 
 sunshine, and food rich in vitamins all have their part 
 to play, the last two perhaps more than the rest. On 
 
 *Leonard Williams, “The Constituents of the Unconscious,” 
 British Journal of Psychology, Medical Section, 1922, p. 263. 
 
170 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 the other hand, disease and nervous strain, more 
 particularly fear and worry, may affect the inborn 
 balance in such a way that the whole character is 
 changed. Thus the work of endocrine glands has once 
 again demonstrated the truth of the old saying, ‘mens 
 sana in corpore sano.” ‘The glands and the nervous 
 system are, in fact, the physiological basis of charac- 
 ter. If they are not in health, much of our educational 
 effort is necessarily wasted. 
 
 (2) Differences in Will-power.—Will-power may 
 be defined as the power to strengthen a weak motive 
 so as to make it predominate over its rival. If I and 
 P stand for conflicting motives, of which I is the 
 weaker, and E stands for the effort needed to make I 
 predominate, then the relation between I, E and P can 
 be represented symbolically as follows :— 
 
 I per se<P; I + E>P (James, Text-book of 
 Psychology, p. 444). 
 
 It has been suggested by several writers that the 
 effort E comes from the self as a whole, and that the 
 power to make this effort is fundamental to any con- 
 sciousness of a “me’’ as an independent individual. _ 
 
 Two important investigations into the psychology 
 of will-power should be studied in this connection. 
 These are those of (a) Dr. Ach and (0) Drs. Michotte 
 and Prum. 
 
 (a) The purpose of Dr. Ach’s experiment was to 
 
The Psychology of Character 171 
 
 study what goes on within us when we try to act on 
 a decision which involves the conquest of a contrary 
 tendency, such as a strong impulse or a well-established 
 habit. He began by giving his subjects pairs of non- 
 rhyming syllables to memorise, until strong associa- 
 tions had been formed between the members of each 
 pair. He then showed them the first of each pair 
 separately and asked them to give a rhyme to each 
 instead of giving the syllable associated with it. Thus 
 the process was in every way similar to that gone 
 through by a person who has made up his mind to 
 break a certain habit by forming another definite habit 
 and has now to act on his decision. By making the 
 associations stronger in some cases than in others, 
 Dr. Ach was, moreover, able to distinguish between the 
 task of opposing a strong, and that of opposing a 
 weak, tendency. (In case it should be suggested that 
 the experiment did not produce a “real” obstacle to 
 overcome, it may be well to state that success and 
 failure were found to produce definite feelings of 
 pleasure and unpleasure respectively. Moreover, each 
 was accompanied by expressive movements, such as 
 smiling, flushing, on the one hand, stamping and excla- 
 mations of anger on the other.) For a full discussion 
 of the results, the reader must be referred to Dr. Ach’s 
 bock, Willensakt und Temperament. For the present 
 purpose, only the following points need to be noted :-— 
 
172 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 (1) When the opposition was strong the introspec- 
 tions showed :— 
 
 (a) Feelings of strain, tension, etc. © 
 
 (b) A definite consciousness of “I will, I really 
 wish,” in the period immediately preced- 
 ing the act. 
 
 (c) A characteristic strengthening of the de- 
 termination, which seemed to be only 
 possible within certain limits, so that the 
 subject failed, much to his own annoy- 
 ance, when the opposition was too 
 strong. 
 
 (2) When the opposition was weak :— 
 
 (a) All feelings of strain disappeared, and 
 
 (b) The personal element dropped out and 
 there was, instead, merely the conscious- 
 ness of “this must or shall be done.” 
 
 Hence it would seem that we have a fund of extra 
 energy on which we can draw when we are trying to 
 overcome resistance, but that there are definite limits 
 to the amount which we can use in this way at a given 
 moment. 
 
 (b) The experiment of Drs. Michotte and Prum 
 was intended to study the psychology of that other act 
 in which we are conscious of an effort of will, the 
 act of choice. In this case, two numbers were pre- 
 sented to the subject which he might add or subtract, 
 
The Psychology of Character 173 
 
 but whichever he chose he had to have a “serious 
 reason” for his choice. Here again it is impossible 
 to give more than the main result of the experiment. 
 This is, that the subjects had in this case a conscious- 
 ness of personally turning towards one of the alterna- 
 tives, a “consciousness of action” as the experimenters 
 called it. This “consciousness of action’? was felt to 
 be something quite different from the feelings of strain, 
 etc., which these subjects also experienced in cases of 
 difficulty. Like the “I really wish’ of Dr. Ach’s 
 subjects, it seems to suggest that “the self’’ is involved 
 in a peculiarly intimate way whenever true acts of will 
 are performed. 
 
 The form in which we become conscious of this 
 appeal to the self was studied by Boyd Barrett in the 
 course of the experiment which was described at some 
 length in Chapter V. The introspections obtained by 
 him in cases in which choice was difficult, showed that 
 we either act on impulse (in which case the result is 
 not a “willed” choice in our sense of the word) or 
 appeal to a general principle, such as “Take the more 
 familiar.”’ In other words, true acts of choice in which 
 decision is difficult are characterised by an appeal to 
 an idea which derives its energy more or less directly 
 from the self-regarding sentiment. 
 
 The “characteristic strengthening of the determina- 
 tion” of Ach, the “consciousness of action” of Mi- 
 
174 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 chotte and Prum, the “appeal to a general principle” 
 of Boyd Barrett, all therefore point to the same con- 
 clusion, namely, that our will-power, 1.e. the energy 
 that makes it possible for us to overcome resistance 
 within ourselves, is in some way derived from our 
 self-regarding sentiment. Dr. McDougall puts it thus: 
 “We may, then, define volition as the supporting or 
 re-enforcing of a desire or conation (7. e. attempt to 
 act) by the co-operation of an impulse excited within 
 the system of the self-regarding sentiment” (Social 
 Psychology, p. 249). | 
 
 B. The Attainment of Strength of Character 
 
 (1) Organisation of Sentiments——Since character 
 is that which makes for consistency in behaviour, a 
 person cannot be said to have a character at all until 
 he has learnt to be somewhat consistent in his actions: 
 thus a child cannot be said to have a character in any 
 useful sense of the word until he has acquired at least 
 one fixed sentiment, such as love for his mother. As 
 his sentiments develop, his desires tend to become more 
 permanent, and as his consciousness of his own in- 
 dividuality grows in clearness, he begins to exert his 
 native will-power in service of these desires. But this 
 is not sufficient to ensure ultimate strength of charac- 
 ter, for it does not prevent the co-existence of incom- 
 patible sentiments, such as love of truth and love of 
 
The Psychology of Character 175 
 
 popularity. The really “strong” man is the man who 
 has a definite aim in life and who cares about this 
 aim sufficiently to abstain from gratifying chance 
 desires which would involve him in activities that are 
 not in accordance with it. Needless to say, fine will- 
 power, though essential, is not sufficient. The person 
 who wishes to acquire a strong character must also 
 make up his mind clearly what he wants most of all 
 and which, of any two alternatives, he wants more 
 than the other. In other words, he must organise his 
 sentiments in relation to some clearly-defined master- 
 sentiment, otherwise his very strength of will may 
 lead him into inconsistencies owing to the temporary 
 predominance of some sentiment which is incompatible 
 with his general scheme of life. 
 
 In order to attain strength of character with the 
 minimum of effort, it is well to remember that we are 
 so constituted that every act lays the foundation for 
 a habit, every train of thought for an association, and 
 that it depends entirely on the way in which we use 
 this quality of the nervous system whether it proves 
 a help or a hindrance in the attainment of the end. To 
 quote from Mr. Shand (Foundations of Character, 
 p. 70), “The laws of association tend to disorganise 
 all systems of character, so far as they introduce into 
 them constituents which are useless or harmful, and 
 lead to the formation of bad habits; but they also sub- 
 
176 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 serve them by strengthening serviceable connections, 
 which lead to the formation of good habits. The law 
 of organisation, on its side, tends to exclude from 
 these systems all constituents that owe their presence 
 there to the action of association alone.” 
 
 (2) The Choice of the Master Sentiment.—Quite 
 as important as the organisation of the sentiments, is 
 the choice of the aim. The whole structure is liable 
 to fall to pieces if the “master sentiment” is destroyed. 
 It is, therefore, vital that this should be one which is 
 not at the mercy of every passing event. To ensure 
 this, an attempt should be made to formulate as “gen- 
 eral’ an aim as possible. The desire “‘to be successful” 
 is more likely to make for strength than the desire “‘to 
 be successful in a particular venture,” and “‘to be use- 
 ful” has a greater element of permanence in it than “to 
 be useful to a particular person’; since the failure of 
 the venture or the death of the person may make the 
 individual with the particularised aim lose all interest 
 in life, whereas a similar check will leave the person with 
 the more generalised aim with plenty of other things 
 which are worth doing. Of course, even the person 
 with a highly generalised aim may give up his efforts 
 in despair if he meets with failure after failure. How 
 soon this limit is reached in a particular case would 
 seem to depend on the native pugnacity or “will-power”’ 
 of the individual, on his general attitude towards life, — 
 
The Psychology of Character 177 
 
 and on the extent to which his master-ideal has 
 become incorporated in his self-regarding sentiment. 
 
 (3) The Limitations of Will-power.—One further 
 point has to be considered in this connection, that is 
 the difficulty which is sometimes experienced when it 
 becomes necessary to act in accordance with a care- 
 fully considered resolution. This is a common phe- 
 nomenon. It is perhaps most readily understood by 
 comparing the act of choice with the lifting of a 
 weight by a number of ropes, each pulling it in a dif- 
 ferent direction with a different amount of pull. In 
 such a case one of three things may happen: usually 
 the weight will move in a direction different from that 
 of any of the ropes to which it is tied (a direction 
 which represents, as it were, a compromise between 
 their separate effects), but it may also move in the 
 direction of one of the ropes, or it may not move at 
 all. Even if it happens to move in the direction of 
 one of the ropes, the effect of the others is not there- 
 by lost, for they will either increase or decrease the 
 rate of movement of the weight according to the 
 amount and the direction of the pull on them. Each 
 of these alternatives may occur in an act of choice. 
 The ropes fixed in direction may be taken to repre- 
 sent motives, the pull on them the driving force behind 
 the motives, or motive force, as it is usually called, 
 and the weight the problem which has to be solved. 
 
178 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 In the act of choice compromise is not always possible 
 and selection of one course of action at the expense of 
 the other alternative (7. e. movement along one of the 
 ropes) is therefore more frequent, but here, too, the 
 other desires play their part by affecting the ease with 
 which the choice is made. 
 
 Moreover, if we tie only one rope to a weight and 
 pull that, we get the effect of the pull on that rope 
 separately, but if we now add another, we can only 
 observe the way its pull affects the result obtained by 
 the first. We have to resort to calculation, if we wish 
 to decide what the effect of the second would have 
 been by itself without actually removing the first. 
 Similarly, when we have two alternative lines of 
 action at our disposal, we do not, as a rule, become 
 aware of the absolute value of the second during the 
 process of choice; we only judge it as better or worse 
 than the first. But the absolute value of the alternative 
 we have selected has an uncomfortable way of be- 
 coming conscious when we have to express a decision 
 in action. At times we may even fail in the attempt, 
 for the energy which was sufficient to make us choose 
 one of two alternatives when we were judging it in 
 relation to the other, may be unequal to the strain 
 when we are faced with the full amount of un- 
 pleasure it involves at the moment of action.1 The 
 
 *Cf. Table II and Boyd Barrett, op. cit., Chapter X. 
 
The Psychology of Character 179 
 
 extent to which a person is able to sacrifice immediate 
 pleasure under such conditions is perhaps the best 
 indication of his strength of character. 
 
 C. The Meaning of a “Fine” Character 
 
 In order to complete this sketch of the psycho- 
 logy of character, it is necessary to consider what is 
 involved in a “fine” character. Clearly strength is one 
 of its constituents, but strength alone is not sufficient. 
 We judge the quality of a person’s character at least 
 as much by the nature of his master sentiment as by 
 the consistency of his behaviour; in fact, of the two, 
 many of us are more inclined to forgive weakness 
 than what we consider a “poor” aim in life. By com- 
 mon consent a really fine man must have plenty of 
 “strength of mind’ and he must use his powers in 
 service of a principle which we admire. Perhaps one 
 other qualification should be added for members of a 
 community such as ours, that is, a clear realisation 
 of the personal prejudices for which he has to make 
 allowance in all his decisions. As has been shown 
 above, this means that he must, at least, realise that 
 sentiments and complexes influence judgment at every 
 turn. Ideally, he should also be aware of the most 
 important of his complexes, so that he can allow for 
 them in cases in which they are likely to affect his 
 verdict. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE TRAINING OF CHARACTER 
 
 A. “Lawful” and “Lawless” Obstacles. 
 (1) Lessons Taught by “Lawful” Obstacles. 
 (2) The Artificial Manipulation of the Environment. 
 (3) Approval and Disapprovat as “Tawful” Obstacles. 
 
 B. Pleasure and Unpleasure as Incentives to Right Behaviour. 
 C. Intention and Execution. 
 
 D. The Part Played by Suggestion. 
 (1) Direct versus Indirect Suggestion. 
 (2) Difficulties in the Use of Direct Suggestion. 
 
 E. Problems Connected with Self-Government at School. 
 
 A. “Lawful” and “Lawless” Obstacles 
 
 One of the first discoveries a child makes when he 
 is beginning to try his powers on his little world, is 
 that he has to reckon with obstacles of two different 
 kinds—those that seem to be no one’s fault, and those 
 that seem to have been placed in his way by some one 
 
 else, the “lawful” and the “lawless” as we may call 
 180 
 
The Training of Character 181 
 
 them.1 He soon discovers that it is useless to get angry 
 about lawful obstacles. But the “lawless” are on a 
 different footing. They have been put in his way 
 by some one else and it just depends on his attitude 
 towards that some one else, whether he takes them in 
 good part or resents them as an unwarranted inter- 
 ference with his freedom of action. 
 
 (1) Lessons Taught by “Lawful” Obstacles—At 
 first the classification into “lawful” and “lawless” is 
 necessarily very crude. The tiny child who knocks 
 himself against a table hits that table in his anger, 
 for he has yet to learn that the table cannot move out 
 of his way. Similarly he eats the bright red berry 
 without even wondering whether it may harm him. 
 He must have time and experience to find out the 
 forces which govern his little universe. 
 
 Sooner or later he learns that he cannot transgress 
 the laws of his own nature without paying the penalty, 
 thus he cannot sit about in damp clothes without 
 catching a cold. As his experience increases, he finds 
 with our aid that all that surrounds him, all the “not 
 me” as it were, is also governed by laws that cannot 
 be infringed without paying the penalty. Thus his 
 
 *The “law” in question may be a law of unconscious nature 
 or of human nature, or it may be a mere convention. Lawful 
 is to be taken to mean “in obedience to some fixed law,” what- 
 
 ever the origin of that law, and “lawless” as the opposite of 
 “lawful.” 
 
182 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 building-blocks refuse to stand in certain positions 
 however often he tries; his seedlings die if he does 
 not give them any water; his companions do not like 
 him if he is too quarrelsome, etc., etc. In every such 
 case the child begins by assuming that the undesired 
 act was done on purpose to annoy him, just as the 
 savage thinks that some evil spirit must have thrown 
 down the stone which fell from the cliff and hurt him. 
 Our knowledge of what is and what is not due to 
 “law” is in fact the result of centuries of reflection 
 on experience, and the child would acquire little or none 
 of it without guidance from his elders. 
 
 Whenever a lesson can be learnt through direct 
 experience, without undue risk to the learner, it is a 
 mistake to try to save the child from the consequences 
 of his acts, and this for three reasons: (1) because 
 there is nothing so convincing as personal experience, 
 (2) because every such interference is liable to rouse 
 resentment, and hence to defeat its own end, and (3) 
 because it is essential for every one to learn the difficult 
 art of interpreting his own experience correctly and it 
 is therefore advisable to give a child every opportunity 
 of acquiring the necessary skill. There are, however, 
 many cases in which the “lawful” consequences are 
 too ill-defined or too distant to appeal to a child. Thus 
 it would, for instance, be very unfair to a child to allow 
 him to form a habit, the undesirability of which he will 
 
The Training of Character 183 
 
 only be able to appreciate in years to come. In such 
 cases we must, therefore, supplement the teaching 
 of Nature and Man by means of artificial stimuli 
 which are suited to the stage of development of the 
 child. 
 
 (2) The Artificial Mampulation of the Environ- 
 ment.—This can sometimes be done by providing an 
 artificial environment which the pupil assumes to be 
 “natural,’ and which puts him into a position in 
 which he is able to learn from his own experience. 
 We can, for instance, teach an only child that selfish- 
 ness is undesirable by providing him with suitable 
 companions, and we can stimulate an adolescent to 
 greater effort by putting the right kind of biography 
 in his way. So long as the child does not know why 
 he has been provided with companions, and so long as 
 the youth thinks that it is “chance” that he has come 
 across the book, the desired lesson will seem to each a 
 discovery of his own, and his self-regard will there- 
 fore urge him to turn it to good account. 
 
 When such manipulation of the environment is im- 
 possible, we have to resort to methods in which the 
 personal element is frankly avowed, that is, to expres- 
 sions of approval or disapproval or to concrete rewards 
 and punishments, The younger the child, the less will 
 he be able to draw the right conclusions from his ex- 
 perience, and the more often will it be necessary to 
 
184 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 resort to personal pressure. It should, however, be 
 borne in mind that punishments and rewards, as well 
 as praise and blame, are only temporary expedients, 
 and are by no means ideal incentives to right behaviour. 
 Punishments and rewards appeal primarily to the 
 child’s love of personal comfort and are therefore likely 
 to make him selfish and self-seeking, if used at all 
 freely. Indiscriminate love of approval is not much 
 better, for the desire to stand well with every one is 
 not likely to produce a very valuable member of the 
 community. Ultimately, it is the man’s ideals, not 
 the opinion of his momentary environment, that should 
 decide his line of action. As Dr. McDougall puts it, 
 “the highest form of behaviour is that in which con- 
 duct is regulated by an ideal of conduct that enables a 
 man to act in the way that seems to him right, regard- 
 less of the praise or blame of his immediate social en- 
 vironment” (op. cit., p. 181). 
 
 Such an attitude towards the problems of life is 
 clearly impossible until the individual has acquired a 
 strong, well-organised character. In the process of 
 attaining this he has to pass through certain prelimi- 
 nary stages, which Dr. McDougall enumerates as fol- 
 lows :-— 
 
 (1) The stage of purely impulsive behaviour, in 
 which the feeling tone which accompanies the actual 
 experience is the only effective teacher. 
 
The Training of Character 185 
 
 (2) The stage in which conduct is influenced by the 
 expectation of rewards and punishments. 
 
 (3) The stage in which the expectation of praise 
 and blame is sufficient. 
 
 The first of these stages is passed through during 
 early infancy. A baby repeats pleasurable and avoids 
 painful acts as far as he can, but threats of punish- 
 ment and promises of rewards mean nothing to him. 
 If a child is in danger of acquiring an undesirable 
 habit at this stage, he can therefore only be checked 
 by associating the act in question with physical pain, 
 that is to say, by slapping him each time he does it; 
 then he will gradually give it up on account of its 
 unpleasant results. But once a child can understand 
 what we say, and has realised himself, however 
 vaguely, as a little individual with wants of his own, 
 it becomes possible to control his behaviour to some 
 extent by the threat of punishment or the promise of 
 reward, and as soon as he has become sufficiently 
 sensitive to the opinion of others, it is possible to dis- 
 card these in their turn and to rely more and more 
 completely on his love of approval. 
 
 Arbitrary rewards and punishments probably become 
 unnecessary at a much earlier age than is generally 
 realised, for quite little children seem to be able to 
 interpret them as expressions of opinion. Even a child 
 of eighteen months will often take a fall on the hard 
 
1836 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 ground quite bravely, and yet scream at the top of his 
 voice if his mother slaps him lightly but in anger. 
 What little children need is a clear expression of our 
 approval or disapproval, but words and manner are 
 quite sufficient as soon as they are able to understand 
 what we say. I have known a little girl of three and a 
 half years stop in the midst of her play to ask: “I 
 am not being naughty, am I?” when the adult who 
 was playing with her, gave rather an impatient answer 
 to one of her many questions. 
 
 The way in which an arbitrary punishment that is 
 felt to be arbitrary is interpreted by a child may be 
 seen from the following case of a very passionate girl 
 of twelve. This child was considered ‘almost un- 
 manageable” at school, although all kinds of punish- 
 ments had been tried, even the use of the cane did 
 not make the least impression. Yet the mother, who 
 undoubtedly exerted an excellent influence over her, 
 assured me that she could only manage the girl by 
 “thrashing” her every time she was in one of her 
 bad moods. For the onlooker it was easy to see why 
 the mother succeeded where the school failed. The 
 child worshipped her mother, she hated the school and 
 despised her form mistress. The “thrashing” was a 
 thing to be feared because it was an expression of 
 extreme disapproval on the part of a person whose 
 good opinion she valued very highly. But at school 
 
The Training of Character 187 
 
 there was no such check on her actions; to disturb the 
 work of the whole class and make the teacher lose her 
 temper appealed to her love of power; the pleasure she 
 derived from it was well worth the loss of play-time or 
 an occasional caning. 
 
 If any one imagines that this is an exceptional case 
 he should work for a while at a children’s club and 
 listen to the conversation. He will find that children 
 invariably have most respect for the teacher who can 
 manage his class without resorting to punishments and 
 rewards, and that they interpret a system of frequent 
 punishments as a sign of weakness on the part of the 
 teacher. In short, rewards and punishments that are 
 felt to be arbitrary are only effective in so far as they 
 are taken to be expressions of opinion on the part of 
 some one whom the child already respects. They are 
 therefore quite unnecessary with normal children of 
 school age, who have not been neglected too hopelessly 
 at home. Even the little girl to whom reference has 
 just been made managed to behave herself quite pass- 
 ably during the last three months of the school year 
 at the request of some one whom she wished to think 
 well of her, although no stimulus other than her desire 
 for approval was used, and in spite of the fact that 
 she never got over her intense dislike for her form mis- 
 tress—not a mean achievement for a passionate girl of 
 twelve. 
 
188 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 It may be well to add that punishment may fail 
 signally when the victim is an adolescent, even if the 
 person who inflicts it is some one whom he greatly ad- 
 mires, Girls particularly may learn to take pleasure 
 in being hurt by those whom they love, if that is the 
 only way in which they can attract sufficient attention, 
 and once they have discovered this form of self-grati- 
 fication they will often feel impelled to make themselves 
 a nuisance to their heroes. At such times they may 
 not even know why they are misbehaving, for their 
 self-regard will make it impossible for them to become 
 conscious of the true cause. 
 
 (3) Approval and Disapproval as “Lawful” 
 Obstacles—Expressions of approval and disapproval 
 are on a different footing from concrete rewards and 
 punishments. They are the normal signs of group 
 opinion, and as such, perfectly “lawful” in the sense 
 defined. If the group decides against the behaviour 
 of an individual, he can either bow to its decision or 
 ignore it, but he must be prepared to find himself ostra- 
 cised if he dares to follow his own judgment in a matter 
 of importance. The extent to which he is likely to mind 
 this will depend on circumstances. If revolt against the 
 opinion of his own group opens the membership of 
 other groups to him, gregariousness and self-regard 
 will both receive satisfaction. Yet the struggle may be 
 severe enough, for he may know that his act is likely to 
 
The Training of Character 189 
 
 weaken or break highly valued personal ties, such as 
 friendships. If he does not know of any group which 
 would approve of his attitude, he has nothing to fall 
 back upon except self-regard. Normally, the fear of 
 loneliness is so strong that it is impossible for any one 
 to maintain his position under these circumstances, but 
 he can sometimes escape from his dilemma by inventing 
 an imaginary group to which he would belong if it ex- 
 isted. Needless to say, a revolt of this nature is usually 
 the act of a ripe mind, it only occurs in childhood and 
 adolescence if the individual finds it impossible to 
 satisfy the requirements of his environment. 
 
 Thus praise and blame can be made to play an im- 
 portant part in the training of character. It should, 
 however, be borne in mind that both must be used 
 with discrimination to be effective. The true function 
 of an appeal to love of approval is to strengthen a 
 motive which is too weak to issue in action without 
 such help. It must therefore be strong enough to pro- 
 duce this effect. On the other hand, we must not 
 give more praise or blame than the child feels he has 
 earned, for both quickly lose their effect if administered 
 too freely. Generally speaking, an act of choice soon 
 becomes habitual under suitable conditions, but it 
 should be remembered that a habit is always specialised, 
 and that a small change in environment is often suf- 
 ficient to destroy it. There is on record a case of a girl 
 
190 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 who managed to be at school punctually for a whole 
 year, and who yet relapsed into her old habits of un- 
 punctuality as soon as she was removed from the in- 
 fluence of the form mistress for whose sake she had 
 made the effort. This girl was obviously quite indif- 
 ferent about punctuality as such and her temporary 
 improvement was entirely due to her desire to please 
 her form mistress. She was, therefore, in this respect, 
 wholly at the mercy of her environment. There is 
 thus a distinct element of danger in relying too much 
 on love of approval as an instrument in the training 
 of character. 
 
 This does not mean, of course, that we should try 
 to abstain from expressions of praise and blame. It 
 means rather that we should grade them in accordance 
 with the needs of our pupils. The younger the child, 
 the more freely must they be used, but it is a mistake 
 to resort to them in a question in which he is himself 
 able to appreciate what is right and what is wrong. 
 If the environment is favourable, the child of ten or 
 eleven has usually begun to realise that there are certain 
 things which he cannot do without hurting his self- 
 respect. As soon as this stage has been reached, we 
 should therefore appeal to his pride rather than to his 
 love of approval. This will have two advantages: it 
 will help him to enter on the final stage of conduct, 
 and it will render our expressions of approval and 
 
The Training of Character 191 
 
 disapproval all the more effective just because they will 
 not have to be used so often. 
 
 B. The Relative Value of Pleasure and Unpleasure 
 as Incentives to Right Behaviour 
 
 The next point which we have to discuss is whether 
 pleasurable or unpleasurable stimuli are on the whole 
 more effective in the training of character. 
 
 In the case of “natural” punishments and rewards 
 one is probably as good as the other, simply because 
 each is recognised to be the “natural” outcome of a 
 definite act. The boy who has once made himself 
 thoroughly ill by eating too many green gooseberries 
 will be more careful in the future, and the boy who 
 succeeds in solving a problem after a long struggle 
 has all the reward he needs in the pleasure success 
 brings with it. But, as stated above, praise and blame 
 are used when the result of an action is not sufficiently 
 obvious to serve as a guide for behaviour. Their 
 purpose is, in fact, to turn the weaker motive into 
 the stronger. If we use fear of disapproval, we are 
 weakening the stronger motive; if we take the opposite 
 course, we are strengthening the weaker one. Ob- 
 viously the end can be attained in either way. The 
 question is, whether there is anything to choose be- 
 tween them, and if so, which is the more effective. 
 
 In order to answer this question we have to turn to 
 
192 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 experiments that have been conducted to determine the 
 physiological changes which accompany changes in 
 feeling tone. Perhaps the most striking of these is one 
 which measures the effect of pleasure, and unpleasure 
 upon already contracted muscles. This may be done 
 by means of a spring balance. The subject is blind- 
 folded to avoid complications introduced by his own 
 observation of his record, a spring balance is hung up 
 at some convenient distance from him and he is then 
 told to pull his hardest for, say, a minute. Under 
 ordinary conditions his record shows a regular de- 
 crease, so that it can be represented by an almost 
 unbroken, obliquely descending line. If the subject is 
 now given a pleasant stimulus (say a little raspberry 
 juice) whilst he is in the act of pulling, there is a 
 momentary drop, followed by a significant rise in his 
 record, which then again falls gradually, but main- 
 tains throughout a higher level than before. If a very 
 unpleasant stimulus is given (say quinine) there is, 
 on the contrary, a decided fall in the record, followed 
 by a gradual fall, so that the general level maintained 
 is lower than under ordinary conditions. It would 
 appear from this that a pleasant stimulus increases the 
 amount of energy at the disposal of the subject, where- 
 as an unpleasant stimulus decreases it. The same con- 
 clusion is suggested by certain other experiments. 
 Moreover, everyday experience points to the same 
 
The Training of Character 193 
 
 conciusion : when we are happy, we usually move about, 
 talk, sing, etc., when we are unhappy we tend to mope, 
 without enough energy or interest in things to want to 
 do anything. The way in which a pleasant surprise 
 seems to renew our energy, however tired we were 
 beforehand, is also worth noting in this connection. 
 Similarly, appreciation from the right quarter acts as 
 a spur to further effort, whereas lack of it may make 
 one give up the struggle in disgust. (It is true that an 
 unpleasant experience which rouses our “‘dis’’pleasure 
 increases our activity by stimulating our pugnacity. 
 This more complex state of mind was not tested by the 
 experiments under discussion, nor does it affect our 
 present problem.) 
 
 We may, then, assume that pleasure in general in- 
 creases the amount of vital energy at our disposal, 
 whereas unpleasure decreases it. Hence the expression 
 of disapproval is effective, if we merely wish to check 
 the activity of an individual; but a pleasure stimulus is 
 the better, if we wish to induce him to adopt a particu- 
 lar line of action. As was shown in Chapter VI, the 
 quickest way to break an undesirable habit is to form 
 another in its stead. Since our business in this con- 
 nection is usually that of helping our pupil to form 
 useful habits of choice, it follows that we should em- 
 phasise the pleasure that will accompany right choice 
 rather than the unpleasure that will result from wrong 
 
194 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 choice. Thus, “I shall be so pieased, if you remember 
 this,” is more likely to be successful than “I shall be 
 
 9 
 
 very angry, if you forget this,” whenever the act that 
 has to be “remembered” involves the conquest of some 
 
 relatively strong habit or sentiment. 
 
 C. Intention versus Erecution 
 
 In this connection it is important to bear in mind 
 that it is not necessarily the child’s fault when he 
 does “forget.” Even Ach’s subjects found it im- 
 possible to give a rhyme to a syllable when its asso- 
 ciation with a non-rhyming syllable exceeded a certain 
 strength. Yet these were adults with a well-developed 
 self-regarding sentiment and they were working under 
 conditions in which they might be expected to know 
 with some exactness the strength of the contrary ten- 
 dency they had to overcome. The child who promises 
 faithfully “never to forget again,” is often dealing with 
 desires which he does not understand himself. To any 
 one who has no knowledge of psychology, it may seem 
 no more difficult to remember not to suck the thumb 
 than not to give the associated syllable. Modern ana- 
 lytical psychology has, however, taught us that thumb- 
 sucking is anything but a meaningless habit, that it is, 
 on the contrary, a symbolical expression of the re- 
 pressed desire to return to the care-free life of infancy, 
 and that this expression is allowed free play by the 
 
The Training of Character 195 
 
 growing self-regard of the child just because it seems 
 meaningless. It is therefore an outlet for repressed vital 
 energy, and as such far more difficult to conquer than 
 a habit that has been acquired consciously. In cases 
 of this kind a child has no idea what his promise “‘not 
 to do it again” involves, and failure is undoubtedly 
 quite as often due to lack of ability as to lack of good- 
 will. 
 
 Whether such failure is helpful, probably depends 
 in part on the character of the person and in part on 
 the kind of tendency that has to be overcome. Ach 
 found that failure produced anger, which set free more 
 energy for the next attempt; whereas success, when 
 achieved with sufficient difficulty, produced a conscious- 
 ness of power which helped to strengthen future acts 
 in so far as it was reproduced on the next occasion. 
 Both were therefore found to be helpful. There is, 
 however, no reason to suppose that this would invari- 
 ably be the case. Suppose a person A who dislikes 
 paying calls makes up his mind that he must without 
 fail call on certain people to-morrow. ‘To-morrow 
 comes and a friend suggests that it 1s an ideal day for 
 a long tramp. <A “forgets” all about the call and 
 spends an enjoyable afternoon on the hills. Later in 
 the day he will probably “remember” the intended call, 
 but the anger with himself for his forgetfulness will 
 be considerably modified by his pleasure at having 
 
196 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 escaped what is to him an unpleasant ordeal. He may, 
 on the other hand, ‘‘remember”’ his intentions and pay 
 his call. Then one of two things may happen: he may 
 find that it is, after all, not so unpleasant an experience, 
 or he may decide that it was up to his worst expecta- 
 tions. The one will encourage him to be more regular 
 in his social duties in future, the other will make him 
 vow never to waste another afternoon in that way. 
 This is more in accordance with the majority of the 
 difficulties that children have to face, because it is an 
 instance in which both success and failure to “remem- 
 ber” produce satisfaction of a more or less conscious 
 desire; whereas Ach’s subjects derived nothing but un- 
 pleasure from failure. Hence it is, as a rule, safer 
 to rely on the pleasure that accompanies hard-won 
 success than on the anger that is produced by failure. 
 In other words, though it is good for the development 
 of the child to set him high standards, it is generally 
 wiser to grade one’s demands in such a way as to 
 avoid failure as far as possible. 
 
 D. The Part Played by Suggestion 
 
 So long as a child depends on his momentary en- 
 vironment for his standards of conduct, he cannot be 
 said to be “free” in any useful sense of the word, for 
 the truly “free” individual is one who is able to “act 
 in a way which seems to him right, regardless of the 
 
The Training of Character 197 
 
 praise or blame of his immediate environment.’ Hence 
 the “freedom” of an individual depends on the strength 
 of his character. As we saw in the last chapter, this 
 in turn depends partly on the extent to which he has 
 succeeded in organising his sentiments and complexes 
 round some master sentiment or ideal, and partly on 
 the extent to which he has learnt to let himself be 
 guided by his general principles and ideals when he 
 finds it difficult to decide what he ought to do. It is, 
 therefore, important to know as much as possible about 
 the growth of ideals and general principles. 
 
 When we try to trace one of these back to its begin- 
 nings, we find that it owes its existence either to the 
 influence of some definite individual or to the pressure 
 of group opinion, that is to say, either to prestige sug- 
 gestion or to mass suggestion. Whatever its origin, 
 it will, however, have to be incorporated in the self- 
 regarding sentiment to acquire that element of perma- 
 nence which is characteristic of ideals and general 
 principles, for the life of a desire remains at the mercy 
 of the immediate environment so long as it does not 
 derive at least part of its energy from that sentiment. 
 
 In order to see what conditions favour incorpora- 
 tion in the self-regarding sentiment, we shall have to 
 study suggestion and suggestibility in more detail. 
 
 (1) Direct versus Indirect Suggestion—We have 
 already seen that the suggestibility of an individual 
 
198 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 may be due to his respect for the person who makes 
 the suggestion, or to the consciousness that he is dealing 
 with group opinion. We have now to consider how 
 the force of a suggestion is affected by the way in 
 which it is given. I may, for instance, persuade or 
 force a child to do a task which he considers useless 
 and distasteful, or I may, on the other hand, arrange 
 things in such a way that he thinks he would like to 
 tackle that same task. In the former case I am said 
 to be using “direct’’ prestige suggestion, in the latter 
 “indirect” prestige suggestion. Similarly, mass sug- 
 gestion may be direct or indirect. The newcomer who 
 is put into the class of a popular teacher, may find 
 that his attempts to disturb his neighbours are merely 
 ignored by the others. If he takes this as a hint that 
 he had better behave himself, he is acting on “indirect 
 mass suggestion,” if he waits until the others tell him 
 not to make himself a nuisance, he is acting on “direct 
 mass suggestion.” 
 
 Clearly the success of indirect suggestion depends on 
 the susceptibility of the individual to the opinion of 
 others, that is to say, on the strength of his love of 
 approbation and on his intelligence. If his love of 
 approbation is weak, he will not be interested in the 
 opinion of others, and will therefore experience no 
 desire to conform to them. If his intelligence is poor, 
 he will tend to draw incorrect inferences from what 
 
The Training of Character 199 
 
 goes on around him, and will therefore be unable to 
 learn from experience. On the other hand, indirect 
 suggestion, if successful, has the advantage that it 
 leaves the individual under the impression that he has 
 discovered the advisability of a certain line of action 
 by his own unaided efforts, with the result that his self- 
 regard makes him anxious to act in accordance with 
 his discovery. In other words, the new principle of 
 action will, from the beginning, derive its energy from 
 the self-regarding sentiment, and its permanence will 
 therefore not depend on the permanence of the in- 
 fluence of this or that individual, or on the pressure 
 exerted by this or that environment. 
 
 The advantage of direct suggestion is that*there is 
 less risk of misunderstanding. It is, however, not ad- 
 visable to use it too freely in connection with matters 
 which affect the self-regard of a pupil, because every 
 direct suggestion impresses on him that we consider 
 him our inferior, with the result that it challenges the 
 opposition of the strong-willed and hinders the de- 
 velopment of self-reliance in the weak-willed. More- 
 over, care must be taken not to resort to it unless 
 success is assured, for every failure lessens the feeling 
 of inferiority on the part of the child, and thus makes 
 it more difficult to exact obedience on a future oc- 
 casion, 
 
 (2) Difficulties in the Use of Direct Suggestion,— 
 
200 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 Skill in the use of direct suggestion can only be ac- 
 quired through practice. The following hints may none 
 the less prove useful. As will be seen, they are merely 
 different methods of maintaining the feeling of in- 
 feriority on the part of the child. 
 
 (1) The suggestion must be given in a tone and 
 manner that command respect. 
 
 (2) It is most likely to succeed when introduced 
 so as to produce a slight shock or surprise; thus the 
 art of keeping a lazy pupil at work consists partly in 
 having a large number of devices at one’s disposal. 
 
 (3) It must not be so contrary to the pupil’s train- 
 ing or natural bent that it rouses his self-assertion or 
 criticism; thus a boy with good home training will 
 refuse to tell tales of another and will merely lose 
 respect for the teacher who is foolish enough to de- 
 mand such a thing. 
 
 (4) It must not contradict facts which the pupil 
 knows or thinks he knows. In such a case, the only 
 thing to do is to discuss the matter with him on equal 
 terms. 
 
 Even if a direct suggestion produces the desired re- 
 sult, it must not be imagined that the amount of 
 improvement that is produced can be taken as a measure 
 of the strength of the new ideal which is being de- 
 veloped. This was brought out clearly in an experi- 
 ment conducted by the writer for the purpose of 
 
The Training of Character 201 
 
 investigating the conditions under which direct sug- 
 gestion was likely to produce permanent results in the 
 case of children aged twelve to fourteen. In this ex- 
 periment the teachers of a number of classes undertook 
 to stimulate in their pupils the desire to become more 
 observant in regard to the everyday things of life. 
 Two sets of schools were used for this purpose. One 
 set consisted of primary schools. In these definite 
 practices in concentration of attention were given for 
 fifteen minutes a day on four days of every week 
 throughout a training period of twelve weeks and the 
 children were told that those lessons were intended 
 to help them to learn more about the things around 
 them. The other set of schools consisted of second- 
 ary schools. In these the teachers were given no arti- 
 ficial aid of this kind and had therefore to rely on 
 their personal influence alone; moreover, the training 
 only lasted nine weeks instead of twelve. In both cases 
 the children were tested at the beginning and at the 
 end of the training period, and the practice effects of 
 the tests as such were eliminated by comparing the im- 
 provement in these groups with that in other groups 
 which had the same average marks in the first test, 
 but were taken from schools in which no special train- 
 ing of this kind was being given. 
 
 The results which were obtained in this way showed 
 that the secondary schools had derived far greater 
 
202 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 immediate benefit from the training. Intervals of nine 
 weeks and sixteen weeks respectively were now allowed 
 to elapse during which the teachers evinced no interest 
 in their pupils’ knowledge of everyday things. At the 
 end of this second period a final test was given. It was 
 then found that the secondary school children had lost 
 almost all the benefit derived from the training, where- 
 as the others had lost very little, so that the training had 
 evidently been more successful in the group which 
 showed less immediate improvement.1 (This result 
 must not be taken to indicate in any way the length of 
 training required to produce a permanent improve- 
 ment, because: (1) the ideal was inculcated by dif- 
 ferent methods in the two groups, and (2) the groups 
 represented schools of different types. ) 
 
 Whether a direct suggestion will take root in a 
 particular case, and if so how quickly, it is impossible 
 to foretell without far more knowledge than is usually 
 at our disposal. Some of the factors involved have 
 been already discussed at some length. These are: the 
 amount of influence the teacher has over the pupil, 
 the strength of contrary tendencies within the pupil, 
 and the extent to which his self-regarding sentiment is 
 developed. Clearly his general environment must also 
 play an important part in the incorporation of the new 
 
 *A full description of this experiment will be found in the 
 British Journal of Psychology, Vol, IX., Pt. I, 
 
The Training of Character 203 
 
 principle in the self-regarding sentiment, but we have 
 at present too little knowledge in regard to the condi- 
 tions which are favourable to this process to be able to 
 say anything definite about it. Since so little is known, 
 it may, however, be worth while to state a result which 
 was obtained in the experiment just described. It is 
 this: of the four schools that made up the group of 
 primary schools, one alone failed to show any gain in 
 the final test, although it had improved at about the 
 same rate as the others during the period of training. 
 There seemed to be nothing in the experimental con- 
 ditions to account for its behaviour, but it so happened 
 that this school was the only one of the four in which 
 the children were promoted at the end of the term 
 during which the training had been given. They were, 
 moreover, not merely moved up in a body, but were dis- 
 tributed among a number of different classes. Since 
 this was apparently the only way in which the condi- 
 tions in this school differed from those in the others, 
 we are led to conclude that the dispersal into different 
 classes was responsible for the absence of permanent 
 improvement. This would have a twofold effect: it 
 would stimulate the development of new interests, and 
 it would interfere with the working of mass sugges- 
 tion. Hence a direct suggestion given to a whole class 
 seems more likely to produce permanent improvement, 
 if followed by a period during which there is no large 
 
204 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 influx of new ideas and no change in the constitution 
 of the class. So far as I know, this is the only experi- 
 ment which even touches on the matter. Much more 
 work will evidently have to be done in this field if we 
 are to obtain exact knowledge in regard to the con- 
 ditions that affect the growth of ideas, and such know- 
 ledge is clearly of the greatest importance to every one 
 who wishes to influence the character of others. 
 
 E. Problems Connected with Self-Government at 
 School 
 
 In conclusion we will consider the problems that 
 arise out of the relation of an individual to those 
 members of his group to whom he is not bound by 
 ties of love or hate. For a full discussion of the 
 subject in the light of our present knowledge of the 
 psychology of the unconscious the reader is referred 
 to Freud’s Group Psychology and the Analysis of the 
 Ego (published by the International Psycho-analytical 
 Press, 1921). Here we shall only use such parts of 
 it as have direct bearing on our problems. 
 
 A moment’s consideration will show that the various 
 forms of government may be broadly divided into 
 those which are autocratic or oligarchic and those which 
 are self-governing. 
 
 We will begin by considering groups which are 
 not self-governing. 
 
The Training of Character 205 
 
 At the bottom of these groups is an unorganised 
 mob which is led by an individual whose position 
 depends on the fact that he has the same dominant 
 desires as the others and that he happens to be the 
 strongest or the most courageous among them. The 
 life of such a group depends on the individuality and 
 success of its leader. It usually falls to pieces when 
 he fails. The history of riots and rebellions gives 
 plenty of instances of this. 
 
 It is clear that the leader of such a group is its 
 hero, and that each follower would therefore like to 
 absorb his whole attention. Since this is manifestly 
 impossible, they have to be satisfied with equal shares. 
 But should he be foolish enough to favour one at the 
 expense of the others, they will immediately turn upon 
 him and hate him as intensely as they loved him 
 previously. There is one other danger for a leader of 
 this type : the very ease with which he obtains obedience 
 may lead him to over-estimate his own powers and may 
 thus bring ruin on them all. 
 
 In the case of the rank and file undue suggestibility 
 is the greatest danger, for it tempts the less suggestible 
 to use the others for their own ends. It is always 
 fatally easy to believe what one wants to believe; in 
 fact, the only safeguard is definite information. Yet 
 children leave the average school of to-day without 
 even realising the need for such information. It is 
 
206 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 not strange, then, that they are later at the mercy of 
 any speaker or writer who happens to express views 
 which fit in with their prejudices. And so long as 
 there are sufficient persons who can be influenced in 
 this way, the psychologist should not be surprised to 
 find that there are also others who definitely make use 
 of these feeble ones for their own ends. 
 
 The groups we have considered so far depend for 
 their existence on the leadership of a particular indi- 
 vidual. In the next stage of development this personal 
 element disappears and the position of leader itself 
 carries with it a certain prestige which does not depend 
 on the ability of the person who fills it. This is the 
 ordinary form of autocratic government. We find it 
 in the army and in the Roman Catholic Church as well 
 as in many social organisations of the day. 
 
 It is clear that membership is not entirely voluntary 
 in such a group: we are born into a certain community 
 and are sent to a certain school. At any moment the 
 group is therefore likely to include many who have no 
 particular admiration for its leader. But a community 
 of this kind has been taught to respect a position at 
 least as much as its occupant, and will therefore render 
 him more or less willing obedience even if it does not 
 stand in awe of him as an individual. 
 
 Since this is the kind of government which we find 
 in the majority of the schools of to-day, it is worth 
 
The Training of Character 207 
 
 while to discuss its special difficulties a little further. 
 In a typical school of this sort the teacher is the autocrat 
 of the class. He-may delegate some of his powers to 
 prefects or others, but they are then his lieutenants 
 in the literal sense of the word, and he exacts obedience 
 for them in virtue of their position. Of the pupils with 
 whom he has to deal some will admire him, some will 
 not; a few may actively dislike him. Those who are 
 more or less indifferent to him will usually accept his 
 leadership in virtue of his position and will give him 
 little trouble, if he knows his business and is not too 
 exacting in his demands. Those who like him will 
 accept him as their hero, and will therefore give him 
 problems similar to those of the hero-leader of the 
 unorganised group (see p. 205). Finally, there are 
 those who actively dislike him. Ideally these should be 
 excluded from his class, for such an active dislike 
 means that there is something within him which clashes 
 with something within them, and complexes which 
 obtrude themselves in this way are usually far too 
 vigorous to be counteracted by mere acts of self-con- 
 trol. The teacher can, of course, use his superior 
 position to exact obedience from such pupils, but it 
 will be quite impossible for him to get really good work 
 out of them. They will dislike his lessons simply 
 because he gives them and will therefore pay as little 
 attention as they dare. 
 
208 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 One other difficulty will be more easily seen in con- 
 sidering the selection of the school team for the 
 season, When such a team has been chosen there are 
 always some who think they ought to have been in- 
 cluded, and by the end of the season these have usually 
 proved to themselves to their entire satisfaction that the 
 team would really have done better if they had been 
 selected. This is due to two causes: one is that our 
 self-regard is always urging us to get for ourselves 
 what we value, the other is that we quickly see the fail- 
 ings of a rival when we can thereby please our love of 
 self (cf. p. 78). For the same reasons the subordinate 
 has a sharp eye for the mistakes of the superior whom 
 he does not admire, and often does not realise how 
 little his judgment is worth in such a case. One of the 
 functions of education is certainly to reduce self- 
 deception of this kind to a minimum. Probably the 
 only way to achieve this is to give each youth practical 
 experience in leadership and to discuss his difficulties 
 with him when he finds that others now misjudge his 
 efforts, just as he previously misjudged theirs. 
 
 We turn next to the psychology of self-governing 
 groups. In the fully developed group of this type each 
 individual is what we may call “group conscious,” that 
 is to say, he feels that the interests of his group are 
 his interests, that he is a vital constituent of the whole 
 and that he and his fellows will suffer if he does not 
 
The Training of Character 209 
 
 do his duty by it. In such a group suggestion is kept 
 within reasonable limits, for all members take part 
 in discussions on equal terms and each has too much 
 knowledge of the facts of the case to be carried away 
 by a mere emotional appeal. Each is, of course, pre- 
 judiced where his own interests are concerned, but his 
 self-control and his power of looking ahead are such 
 that he is loyal to the decision of the group even when 
 the welfare of the whole demands a sacrifice of his own 
 immediate interests. 
 
 In larger groups some of the work has to be done 
 by committees. If we are anxious to stimulate the 
 “group consciousness” in our group, we should watch 
 the constitution of these committees with some care. 
 The selection of the same persons time after time may 
 make for immediate efficiency but it will certainly 
 cause loss of interest among those who are thereby 
 reduced to the position of “rank and file,’ for our 
 imagination and our power of looking ahead are both 
 so limited that we soon neglect affairs in which we do 
 not have to take an active part. Moreover, the average 
 man much prefers to live in the present and to do as 
 little hard thinking as possible, so that he is only too 
 ready to accept the opinion of others where his own 
 immediate interests are not concerned. There is there- 
 fore a real danger that the government of the group 
 will fall into the hands of a few, and that these will 
 
210 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 sooner or later absorb all real power. Obviously the 
 remedy is to make every member do his share of com- 
 mittee work and to make the group responsible for the 
 acts of its committees. 
 
 When a group grows beyond a certain size, even this 
 becomes impossible, and it is then usual to elect repre- 
 sentatives who are given more or less of a free hand 
 to look after the interests of their constituencies. In 
 our present stage of development this makes it very 
 difficult to maintain group-consciousness among those 
 who have no opportunity of taking an active part in 
 the management of affairs, for the average individual 
 of to-day has neither the knowledge nor the foresight 
 that would enable him to realise that the work of these 
 representatives can affect his own personal welfare, 
 when it is apparently not in the least connected with 
 his own immediate needs. 
 
 Those of us who believe in self-government should 
 be anxious to develop the group-consciousness of our 
 pupils, for all true self-government depends on it. To 
 achieve this it is once again necessary to provide an 
 environment in which its value can be realised by the 
 pupil. 
 
 The preceding discussion should, however, have 
 made it clear that self-government is not suitable for 
 young children. They have as yet neither the know- 
 ledge nor the self-control to do more than play at 
 
The Training of Character 211 
 
 managing their own affairs, and are therefore far 
 happier under what has been termed a “benevolent 
 autocracy.”’ On the other hand, they should, of course, 
 be prepared for the next stage by having as much 
 freedom as possible and by being held responsible for 
 their own acts as soon as they are ready for it. There 
 is some difference of opinion as to the age at which 
 children are ripe for self-government, and an increasing 
 number of schools are at present engaged in trying 
 to solve this problem. To discuss their methods would 
 take us too far afield, but the reader is advised to 
 study the account given by Miss Alice Woods in 
 Educational Experiments mm England, or that given by 
 Dewey in Schools of To-morrow. 
 
 One thing is certain whether self-government is 
 begun at ten or at fourteen, each group must at first 
 be so small that every member forms a vital part of it, 
 and it must for a while be under the supervision of a 
 teacher so that the children learn what group-govern- 
 ment really means. The existence of rival groups is 
 also helpful, for it gives a practical demonstration of 
 the value of efficient group government (cf. Mc- 
 Dougall, The Group Mind). (It would be easy to pro- 
 vide this by letting the members of one class divide into 
 two or more rival clubs of one kind or another.) As 
 their experience increases, the children should first be 
 made entirely responsible for the management of their 
 
212 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 own groups and then be entrusted with the work of a 
 group which is big enough to necessitate the formation 
 of committees. In a self-governing school of any 
 size part of the work will almost certainly have to be 
 done by elected representatives. In the writer’s view 
 this will, however, do little to develop the group-con- 
 sciousness of the school as a whole unless the repre- 
 sentatives are expected to keep their “constituencies” 
 in close touch with what they are doing. 
 
 Experience of this kind will stimulate the group- 
 consciousness of the adolescent and will gradually make 
 him more willing to subordinate his own interests to 
 those of the community. On the other hand, it will not 
 necessarily make him a good citizen. If that is our aim, 
 we shall also have to give him enough knowledge to 
 enable him to take an intelligent interest in local prob- 
 lems, and enough general education to make it possible 
 for him to acquire further information when he needs 
 it. 
 
 We have not yet discussed the position of the 
 leader in a self-governing community, but a moment’s 
 consideration will show that it is similar to that of the 
 leader of other communities, The person who has been 
 chosen as leader for a particular piece of work will still 
 have admirers who accept his views too uncritically 
 and detractors who find fault with all he does, and 
 the person who has not been chosen for the post he 
 
The Training of Character 213 
 
 wanted will still misjudge the acts of his rival unless he 
 has learnt to withhold judgment in such a case. The 
 only difference will be that there will be less tempta- 
 tion to misuse power because the members of the group 
 will be less easy to deceive. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 WORK AND PLAY 
 
 A. Work as an Activity which is Initiated by the Conscious- 
 ness of the Self as a Lasting Entity, Play as an 
 Activity which is the Direct Expression of the 
 Desires of the Moment. 
 
 B. The Activities of Children and Adolescents. 
 
 (1) Activities of Children under Two and a Half Years 
 of Age. 
 
 (2) Activities of Children between Two and a Half and 
 Seven or Eight Years of Age. 
 
 (3) Activities of Children between Eight and Twelve 
 Years of Age. 
 
 (4) Activities of Adolescents after the Age of Twelve. 
 C. The Educational Value of Play. 
 
 D. Passive Play and its Reaction on Behaviour. 
 
 A. The Meaning of Work and Play 
 
 ANY one who tries to define the words “work” and 
 “play” as used in ordinary conversation is faced with 
 a difficult, if not an impossible task. We “play” 
 hockey, but we “work” in the garden, though we may 
 clearly enjoy the one as much as the other. It is 
 
 sometimes said that in play alone we are absolutely free, 
 214 
 
Work and Play 215 
 
 but the member of a hockey team knows quite well 
 that he cannot drop out of a game because he does not 
 happen to be in the mood for it. Again, an occupation 
 is said to be “play” if done purely for its own sake, 
 “work” if done for some ulterior purpose, but this, 
 too, is not always in accordance with the popular usage 
 of these words; thus much of the work that the amateur 
 puts into his garden is done for the pure joy of it; 
 he tires himself out with digging because he enjoys the 
 exercise or the smell and colour of the earth, not 
 because he thinks it is good for his health, or because 
 he cannot get any one to do it for him. 
 
 Such vague use of terms is obviously impossible in 
 a scientific discussion of various forms of activity. In 
 psychology it is, therefore, usual to call an activity 
 “play” if done purely for its own sake; “work” if done 
 for some ulterior purpose. ‘Thus digging is play if 
 done purely for the joy of digging, work if done in 
 order to prepare the ground for flowers or vegetables. 
 We may now go a step further and inquire why we 
 should want to prepare the ground for flowers, even 
 though we do not enjoy the physical exertion which 
 the process entails. Clearly the answers of different 
 individuals would vary greatly in scope and in char- 
 acter. If we were to collect them all, we should, 
 however, find that they have at least one thing in 
 common; we do of our own accord what we do not 
 
216 The Education of Behaeianr 
 
 enjoy because we think that we shall benefit by it in the 
 end. What any particular individual considers a 
 “benefit”? necessarily depends on his ideas of the needs 
 of his “self.” He may be trying to satisfy some 
 highly generalised ideal, or he may only be desirous 
 of providing himself with concrete luxuries. The one 
 essential is that he is able to look ahead to a slight 
 extent, otherwise there is no reason why he should 
 think of anything except his immediate needs. Hence 
 the power to work depends on the power to realise that 
 the self of to-morrow or next year is affected by the 
 behaviour of the self of to-day. 
 
 This knowledge is acquired gradually during child- 
 hood and adolescence. The baby is at first only aware 
 of the pleasure or unpleasure which accompanies his 
 acts, he has as yet no consciousness of himself as a 
 lasting entity. 
 
 As his experience increases and as his mental powers 
 develop, he learns that acts can have pleasant and un- 
 pleasant effects some time after they have taken place. 
 His mother may get angry about a broken window an 
 hour or more after the stone went through it, she may 
 even deprive him of jam at tea-time for some mis- 
 demeanour of which he was guilty as long ago as that 
 same morning. And the child who takes immediate 
 reproof in good part will often resent one that is 
 deferred, for a little child considers even an hour after 
 
Work and Play 217 
 
 the event such a long time that it seems sheer spite on 
 the part of the adult to refer to it again. However, 
 bitter experience gradually teaches him that he has to 
 reckon with the after-effects of his actions whether he 
 will or not. As he learns this lesson, he becomes 
 capable of true work, for his self-regard makes him 
 formulate standards of attainment for himself, and 
 these in turn make it possible for him to do the thing 
 which is not particularly attractive at the moment for 
 the sake of the pleasure which he will derive from it 
 when it is done. 
 
 To sum up: an activity is of the nature of work, 
 if it 1s mitiated by the consciousness of the self as a 
 lasting entity; 1t 1s of the nature of play if it is the 
 direct expression of the desires of the moment when 
 these are not controlled by any thought of the more 
 permanent needs of the self. Clearly childhood is the 
 time for true play, for it is only in childhood that 
 we can satisfy each desire as it arises without thinking 
 of the consequences. The adult usually finds it dif- 
 ficult to forget himself to the same extent and he is 
 therefore happier when he is engaged in an occupation 
 which is in accordance with his more permanent idea 
 of himself as well as with the sentiments or com- 
 plexes which happen to be active at the moment. Thus 
 I may be very fond of digging for its own sake, but 
 the fact that my garden will benefit by the work I 
 
218 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 am putting into it certainly adds to the pleasure which 
 I derive from the occupation. 
 
 B. The Actiwities of Childhood and Adolescents 
 
 We might expect that the average person would 
 prefer to keep his body at rest and his mind a blank 
 after a heavy day’s work, but that does not seem to be 
 the case. He may only be day-dreaming, if he is too 
 tired to do anything else, but his mind is never entirely 
 at rest so long as he retains consciousness. 
 
 In order to see how this stream of activity varies 
 with age and environment, and how pure play is gradu- 
 ally displaced by a mixture of play and work, or, 
 indeed, by work without any play, it will be necessary 
 to study the occupations of children and adolescents in 
 some detail, 
 
 (1) Activities of Children under Two and a Half 
 Years of Age.—In so far as a child’s activities are 
 purely reflex, they are not purposeful, and therefore 
 neither play nor work in the sense defined; but every 
 baby soon discovers that certain acts are pleasurable, 
 and as soon as this stage is reached he is able to form 
 what we have called “primitive complexes” for these 
 acts, and may therefore be said to be capable of play 
 (see Chapter IV, p. 63). At first his own body natur- 
 ally attracts much attention, but anything which comes 
 within his range is rubbed, scratched or pulled about. 
 
Work and Play 219 
 
 At eight or ten months he will be perfectly happy for 
 hours enjoying the sounds he himself is able to make 
 with his vocal organs. A little later he begins to enjoy 
 running and climbing, building things so that they will 
 stay, or throwing them down with a bang. Towards 
 the end of this period we can sometimes observe slight 
 attempts at “work”: thus a child will occasionally try 
 to say a word rightly to win approval ; but such attempts 
 are short-lived, for the child quickly loses patience and 
 turns the attention of his would-be teacher to some- 
 thing else. On the other hand, he may at times be 
 observed to be repeating to himself over and over 
 again some new word or phrase. This is, however, 
 play, not work, for it is done purely for its own sake 
 in response to One or more impulses. 
 
 (2) Activities of Children between Ages of Two 
 and a Half and Seven or E1ght.—During the next 
 five or six years the co-ordination of the coarser 
 muscles are being completed, with the result that the 
 child obtains control over his immediate physical 
 environment. Thanks to this, his experience increases 
 rapidly, and he has soon enough ideas to enable him to 
 try his hand at building something new of his own. 
 On the other hand, he has still so little knowledge that 
 he is not hampered by any distinction between the 
 possible or the impossible, and so little power of reflec- 
 tion that he often finds it difficult to distinguish be- 
 
220 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 tween what he has experienced and what he had only 
 imagined. Hence imaginative play develops rapidly 
 during these years. Asa matter of fact, we can often 
 observe the first signs of it at the age of two years 
 and a half or three, but it does not become very marked 
 till four or five, and usually reaches its maximum be- 
 tween the ages of six and seven. 
 
 If we examine the play of children between three 
 and seven, we shall find that we can divide it roughly 
 into unimaginative play and imaginative play, though 
 the latter necessarily often involves the former. 
 
 The unimaginative play is similar to that observed 
 during the first period. The healthy child seems to 
 enjoy movement for its own sake: he is talking, sing- 
 ing, running most of the day, the one thing he finds 
 irksome is to be quiet. At first he is still entirely 
 destructive: he wants to pull things to pieces, to see 
 what makes a noise, etc. But gradually other impulses 
 come into play. He tries to make as well as to destroy; 
 he collects things for the sheer joy of having them. 
 Then, as his control over his muscles increases, he 
 begins to prefer play which involves a certain amount. 
 of skill. At about four years of age he wants to play 
 with hoops and tops, to hammer nails into a board, 
 and so forth; a little later he begins to enjoy skipping 
 and dancing and is ready to be taught the use of 
 ordinary tools. 
 
Work and Play 221 
 
 For his imaginative play the child finds the necessary 
 material in his environment. As was pointed out above, 
 his gregariousness and his desire for knowledge make 
 him notice what other people are doing, and his self- 
 assertion makes him want to imitate all he admires. 
 Thus he pretends to be his mother, his teacher, a sailor, 
 a fairy, or anything else that strikes his fancy, and 
 acts the part to the best of his ability. I once watched 
 a child of about four playing at “engines.” He him- 
 self was the engine, shunting, waiting for signals, etc., 
 as he thought an engine would do. He began by 
 instructing a child of about two and a half in the game. 
 “This one,” he said, pointing to himself, “has got a 
 fire right inside him, and you put the water in here” 
 (pointing to his mouth). He soon grew absolutely 
 absorbed in his play, and forgot all about the younger 
 child, who was doing his utmost to imitate him, but 
 evidently did not know what it was all about. A child 
 of five has usually realised that an engine is not a 
 living being; he prefers to be the engine-driver—with, 
 say, a chair as his engine. But the difference between 
 the four-year-old and the five-year-old is merely one of 
 knowledge. Both are using their imagination to ex- 
 press an interesting discovery in play. 
 
 As the child develops, his play tends to become more 
 imaginative and more ambitious. At the age of six 
 and seven the intelligent child often plans elaborate 
 
222 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 .games in which younger brothers and sisters, as well 
 as tables, chairs, etc., all have a part. It is in prepara- 
 tion for games of this kind that he probably gets his 
 first ideas of work in the best sense of the word. He 
 has done a little work for some years now, in the sense 
 that he has done things he did not want to do in order 
 to win approval or to escape punishment; but it is in 
 play of this kind that he is for the first time making 
 himself do something which is not particularly interest- 
 ing for an end which he has himself conceived. Such 
 exclamations as, “You might help!” show that he is not 
 absorbed in the activity as such; if he were he would 
 fiercely resent all help as interference. A little later his 
 desire to make things may exact more work from him, 
 for he tends to become more critical towards his own 
 efforts as his knowledge increases. Then he begins to 
 feel the need for instruction in the use of various tools. 
 If he is taught properly he will enjoy the process, but 
 even so, he is no longer playing as is the child of four 
 who is hammering nails into a wall, for he has a 
 purpose in view: he wants to learn how to use this tool, 
 because he wants to make, say, a boat that sails prop- 
 erly. His occupation is therefore technically a mixture 
 of play and work—play because he enjoys it as such, 
 work because it is not done entirely for its own sake. 
 It may, however, become “pure play’ if he grows 
 deeply absorbed in it and forgets all about his original 
 
Work and Play 223 
 
 purpose : thus the child who is learning to read, usually 
 passes through a stage when the reading of single 
 words is so fascinating that he loses all interest in the 
 story as such. 
 
 (3) Activities of Children Between the Ages of 
 Eight and Twelve.—After the age of eight there fol- 
 lows a period of slow physical development during 
 which the finer muscles are being co-ordinated; hence 
 the child begins to be able to handle more delicate 
 tools, such as needle and fret-saw and consequently 
 becomes increasingly interested in the acquisition of 
 skill. As soon as the technical difficulties of reading 
 have been overcome, story-books tend to absorb part of 
 his playtime and, with the increase of reasoning 
 power, puzzles, riddles and games of skill begin to 
 come to the fore. Meanwhile the average child goes 
 through a stage of being extraordinarily matter-of- 
 fact: he loses all pleasure in the invention of stories 
 and games, and concentrates instead on the puzzles 
 which his environment presents. The earnestness with 
 which many a boy of eight or nine will listen to quite 
 a technical explanation of the mechanism of engines 
 shows how strong is his desire for information of this 
 kind. It seems, in fact, as though a child of this age is 
 at times so overwhelmed by the riddles of his little 
 universe, that he has no energy left for anything else 
 (cf. Impulse to Investigate, p. 46). 
 
224 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 Another characteristic of this stage of development 
 is the way in which the competitive spirit comes to the 
 fore. Children of five and six do a thing because they 
 enjoy it or because outside pressure is being put upon 
 them. To urge them to do better than their neighbours 
 is so much waste of energy, for they are still far too 
 self-centred to be interested in the activity of others so 
 long as it does not interfere with their own. By the 
 age of eight, the child has, however, usually had 
 occasion to learn that he is a member of a community, 
 in which it is necessary for him to hold his own. Then 
 he grows anxious to test his powers on every occasion: 
 whether he is trying his physical powers, collecting 
 stamps or playing a game of skill, at least half the 
 pleasure he experiences lies for the time being in doing 
 as well as this friend, or better than that other. At 
 school, too, however attractive his lessons are made and 
 however much competition is discouraged by those in 
 authority, he will yet find means for comparing his 
 progress with that of his fellows, for Nature’s call to 
 him to find his place in the world is, as a rule, far too 
 urgent to be resisted. As it happens, the desire to 
 become a member of a gang is developing at about the 
 same time(cf. gregariousness, p. 91), and can therefore 
 be used at school to replace competition between indi- 
 viduals by competition between groups. Such group 
 work is a good preparation for the next stage. It has, 
 
Work and Play 225 
 
 however, to be imposed from above, for it is not a 
 normal form of competition for children under twelve. 
 
 To sum up, we see that pure play is gradually taking 
 a more subordinate place during this period of a child’s 
 life. When he reads stories, listens to explanations of 
 things that puzzle him, becomes a member of a gang, 
 or satisfies his love of adventure actually or in imagina- 
 tion, he is probably doing for the sake of doing, with 
 no ulterior purpose in view. But many of his spare- 
 time occupations, such as his competitive games or 
 attempts to make things, involve a mixture of work 
 and play, in that they are done partly for their own 
 sake, partly for some ulterior purpose. We saw above 
 that the child of six and seven was beginning to do a 
 certain amount of work unmixed with play (in the 
 sense defined). Between the ages of eight and twelve 
 there is a rapid development of this power, for love of 
 approval and interest in games or hobbies are now 
 supplemented by a competitive spirit which is continu- 
 ally urging the child to do things in which he takes 
 little or no pleasure in order to hold his own with 
 his fellows. Thus he begins to be able to do a fair 
 amount of ‘pure work.” If he refuses to make the 
 effort, it is either because his attempts meet with too 
 little encouragement, or because the end in view is one 
 which does not appeal to him. (It is, for instance, 
 impossible for a child to be seriously interested in that 
 
226 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 vague and far-off future when he will be “grown up.’’) 
 The purpose must be one he can appreciate and his 
 efforts must meet with a fair amount of success. If 
 these two conditions are satisfied, the child of ten 
 or eleven is capable of surprising amounts of “pure 
 work,” } 
 
 (4) Activities of Adolescents after the Age of 
 Twelve—After the age of twelve interests develop 
 rapidly, if the environment is at all favourable. At 
 times they become all-absorbing, and “pure play” dis- 
 appears almost entirely in favour of that mixture of 
 play and work which is characteristic of competitive 
 games, of hobbies, and of school-work, when it satis- 
 fies some strong impulse, such as the impulse to investi- 
 gate or the impulse to construct. At the same time, 
 the capacity for “pure work” is increasing, for the 
 youth is becoming able to look ahead, and hence willing 
 to work for an end which will not be attained for some 
 time. At the age of twelve a few weeks is probably 
 his limit, but at fourteen or fifteen he should be able 
 to make himself do six months, or even a year of 
 systematic work for which he has no taste and from 
 
 * Whether it is desirable that he should be encouraged to do 
 such work is, of course, another matter, but one which does not . 
 concern us here. It may, however, be noted in passing that we 
 have to appeal largely to competition or love of approval if we 
 want “pure work” at this stage, whereas we can use interest in 
 the ulterior purpose, if we wait another two or three years. 
 
Work and Play 227 
 
 which he will derive no concrete benefit before the end 
 .of that time. 
 
 Meanwhile, his desire to hold his own with his 
 fellows is as strong as ever; self-assertion and pug- 
 nacity are quickly aroused, and with boys especially, 
 gymnastic feats, boxing and fencing, remain popular 
 throughout adolescence. At the same time, the desire 
 to be a member of a group has become too strong to be 
 ignored. Hence each wants to play with his fellows 
 and yet find an outlet for his self-assertion. The 
 
 ’ 
 
 result is, of course, “quarrelsomeness,”’ and a general 
 feeling that “the others’ are spoiling the game. It is 
 at this stage of his development that the adolescent 
 is ready to enjoy organised games, such as hockey or 
 football, for these provide him with opportunities of 
 testing his powers without bringing him into conflict 
 with his group. Moreover, there are fixed rules as to 
 what is and what is not allowed, and these have the 
 authority of generations of players behind them. Their 
 prestige is therefore so great that no adolescent would 
 dream of questioning them, however irksome he may 
 find them. Moreover, “passing the ball” begins to add 
 to the zest of the game as the skill of the players in- 
 creases, and cheating, or refusal to obey those in 
 authority, is found to spoil sport instead of adding to 
 it. Thus actual personal experience gradually teaches 
 the players various lessons of the greatest social im- 
 
228 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 portance, and experience is, as we know, the only really 
 effective teacher of such lessons. 
 
 Needless to say, these lessons cannot be learnt as 
 readily as the rules of the game. Fair play, even if it 
 is to the disadvantage of one’s own side, and obedience 
 to leaders of one’s own choosing, even when their 
 commands are unpalatable, are ideals which can only 
 be established by degrees. Hence, an older umpire or 
 coach, who teaches them as part of the game, is 
 essential during the first few years. By the age of 
 fifteen or sixteen the adolescent should, however, be 
 able to manage his own game without help from his 
 elders. 
 
 As already stated, the power of doing a thing purely 
 for its own sake, without thought of ulterior purpose, 
 is, on the whole, on the decrease during early ado- 
 lescence, but this should be only a phase in the develop- 
 ment of the individual. 
 
 Adolescence is the period during which esthetic 
 perceptions develop: gradually beauty of form, colour 
 and sound become enjoyable for their own sake and 
 sunset and sea begin to have messages which are none 
 the less real because they are too vague to be expressed 
 in words. There results much day-dreaming, but also 
 a desire for self-expression which will sooner or later 
 find an outlet in some form of art or craft-work, if 
 only the environment is favourable. Work of this kind 
 
Work and Play 229 
 
 is true play in the sense defined. The worker is usually 
 convinced that he has a good reason for engaging on 
 any particular piece of work, but that does not prove 
 much. Thanks to our traditions, it takes more inde- 
 pendence of thought than is usual in adolescence to 
 own, even to one’s self, that one is putting forth 
 strenuous effort without at least the desire to produce 
 something “useful” ; hence a purpose of some kind has 
 its value in justifying one’s occupation to one’s self. 
 We need, however, only watch the artist or craftsman 
 at his work to see that the real attraction lies in the 
 scope it gives for self-expression and that the ulterior 
 purpose, so far from being primary, is continually in 
 danger of being forgotten. 
 
 Another form of true play which does not develop 
 until adolescence is the pursuit of knowledge for its 
 own sake. At the age of fifteen or sixteen young people 
 often find this a fascinating form of activity, for it 
 enables them to use their growing powers of abstraction 
 and generalisation and satisfies impulses that are often 
 in urgent need of activity, such as the impulse to 
 investigate and the impulse to construct. As in the 
 case of art work, the adolescent can usually give a 
 reason for the task he has set himself, but where the 
 task is of his own choosing, a little observation usually 
 soon shows that it is really love of study which has 
 made him attempt it. 
 
230 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 C. The Educational Value of Play 
 
 The reader who has followed this description of 
 the activities of children and adolescents must have 
 been struck with the educational value of play. At 
 first the child lives entirely in the present, and life 
 is therefore all play; yet he is learning all the time. 
 In play he gains control over his muscles, in play he 
 imitates the adults of his environment and adopts their 
 customs and beliefs. Then, as he becomes conscious 
 of himself as a lasting entity, he begins to enjoy play 
 mixed with work, but it is only towards the end of 
 childhood that he becomes able to do “pure work” to 
 any large extent. In adolescence play has still the 
 same functions to fulfil as in childhood, but there are 
 now additional reasons why adequate provision should 
 be made for it. Adolescence is the time when life 
 seems full of perplexities, because irreconcilable senti- 
 ments are continually being brought into conflict with 
 each other: respect for tradition with love of know- 
 ledge, desire for the safe life of the home with long- 
 ing for independence and adventure. Unless the indi- 
 vidual is handled wisely, the result is usually a state 
 of nervous strain, which may show itself in various 
 forms, such as violent emotional outbursts, morbid 
 self-analysis, or that uncontrolled “giggling”? to which 
 adolescent girls seem peculiarly liable. And it is just 
 
Work and Play 231 
 
 at this stage that the mass of our young people begin 
 to earn their living by work which, under modern con- 
 ditions, is either quite uneducational, or, at best, so 
 specialised that it only develops some small part of 
 their inborn powers. 
 
 Probably life can never run quite smoothly during 
 adolescence, even under ideal conditions, for the youth 
 has to organise his sentiments and to submit himself 
 to a certain amount of specialisation, if he is to become 
 fit for modern community life. Overstrain can, how- 
 ever, be avoided by providing sufficient leisure and 
 opportunity for hobbies and games. What will succeed 
 in a particular case must, of course, depend on the 
 taste and ability of the individual, but experience has 
 shown that organised games and independent con- 
 structive work (especially if of the nature of art work) 
 usually meet the needs of the case by giving the youth 
 that feeling of freedom and inner harmony which he 
 often finds so hard to attain in his ordinary relations 
 with other people. Besides this, he needs, among other 
 things, gymnastics, swimming and dancing to develop 
 his physical powers; camping or walking tours to 
 satisfy his love of adventure; and last, but not least, 
 time which he can call absolutely his own and of which 
 he can therefore dispose as he likes. 
 
 The spare-time occupations of the adolescent are 
 thus of the greatest educational importance, their func- 
 
232 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 tion being: (1) to aid the development of his latent 
 powers; (2) to counteract the effects of unduly 
 specialised or mechanical work; (3) to act as safety- 
 valves for the emotional strain which is unavoidable 
 at this stage; and (4) to teach him various social 
 virtues through direct experience of their value. 
 
 D. Passive Play 
 
 The reader may have observed that nearly all the 
 play activities we have discussed so far owe their attrac- 
 tion to the fact that they give us opportunities for self- 
 expression; we may be merely “letting off steam,” or 
 we may be trying our powers in one way or another; 
 but so long as we are playing, we must be conscious 
 of free personal effort of some kind, otherwise we find 
 our occupation dull, and turn our attention to some- 
 thing else. There are, however, other forms of play 
 in which the pleasure seems rather to lie in the oppor- 
 tunity they provide for “self-forgetting”: thus an in- 
 teresting novel or a good performance at a theatre may — 
 become so absorbing that we find even such slight 
 forms of self-expression as custom demands (e.g. 
 clapping) a hindrance to our enjoyment. At such 
 times the pleasure of the experience depends on the 
 extent to which we can forget our individual needs 
 and become part of the drama that is being presented 
 to us, 
 
Work and Play 233 
 
 Play of this kind is often called “passive play.” 
 This is, however, hardly a true description of it, 
 unless it is intended to emphasise the fact that it 
 renders our self-assertiveness passive for the time 
 being. As every one knows, we are active enough in 
 other ways. At times we succeed in identifying our- 
 selves with one or other of the actors, and thus ex- 
 perience his joys and sorrows as though they were our 
 own, and even if we cannot forget that we are only 
 spectators, we must yet use a certain minimum of 
 imagination if we are to enjoy the unravelling of the 
 plot. As we concentrate on the drama, the mind 
 becomes filled with it to the exclusion of all else, with 
 the result that we experience an impulse to imitate the 
 actors (cf. Imitation, footnote, p. 149). Imaginative 
 children at times act on such an impulse, especially if 
 they are watching a staged play and are not merely 
 listening to a story. They gradually learn that it is a 
 pity to do this, partly because public opinion is against 
 it, but quite as much because any attempt to act on 
 such percepts necessarily destroys the illusion and 
 thereby puts an end to their enjoyment. | They then 
 try to control the impulse, allowing themselves only 
 incipient actions, such as the clenching of the fists and 
 thus force the energy that is set free into the only 
 path that is left for it, namely, that of emotional ex- 
 pression. Passive play of the kind we have described 
 
234 - The Education of Behaviour 
 
 seems therefore to stimulate both the imaginative and 
 the emotional life of the individual, and to depend 
 for its existence on his ability to merge his own per- 
 sonality in that of others (cf. Psychological Sympathy, 
 p. 152). 
 
 Much the same seems to be true whatever form of 
 passive play we examine: the spectator who is watching 
 a hockey or football match will take little pleasure in 
 what he is perceiving, if he cannot identify himself 
 with one or other side and thus give scope to his power 
 to reproduce in himself the impulses that actuate the 
 players (e.g. the desire to fight) ; and the person who is 
 enjoying beauty, whether in Nature or in art, probably 
 depends on imagination and psychological sympathy 
 in a similar manner, though his experience is often so 
 vague or so complex that it is impossible to analyse 
 it with any certainty. Finally, it should be noticed that 
 true passive play is incompatible with criticism because 
 the attitude of the critic is that of an outsider who is 
 comparing his views or us interpretation with that of 
 another, whereas passive play depends on our power to 
 forget our own individuality and whatever else might 
 spoil the illusion. As a matter of fact, our so-called 
 passive play is in reality more often a mixture of the 
 active and the passive, for we are only passive while we 
 are absolutely carried away by what we are perceiving, 
 and become active whenever the self wakes up suffi- 
 
Work and Play 235 
 
 ciently to wonder whether this change of plan was wise, 
 or that act true to life. 
 
 To sum up, true passive play depends on the complete 
 surrender of the self to the guidance of another and 
 provides, in return, food for the imagination and for 
 various emotions. All the same, it is not a sign of 
 weakness of will to enjoy it; there are many persons 
 who are by no means lacking in self-assertion and who 
 yet find it a fascinating form of play. Nor is it 
 sufficient to point out that we often resort to passive 
 play when we are too much fatigued to enjoy anything 
 that involves effort, since we certainly derive at least 
 as much pleasure from it when we are feeling fresh 
 and energetic. The attraction of passive play must 
 therefore lie in the stimulus it gives to imagination 
 and emotion. In the case of imagination, it is not 
 surprising that activity is pleasurable, seeing that every 
 imaginative act involves building up and is therefore 
 a product of the constructive impulse which has, as 
 we know, plenty of energy at its disposal.’ It is more 
 difficult to account for the pleasure we take in living 
 the emotional life of another, especially if that other 
 is only a creature of the imagination, yet the pleasure 
 is real enough, as we all know from personal experi- 
 ence. Moreover, our enjoyment does not depend 
 
 1It will be remembered that the activity of any impulse is 
 pleasurable so long as it is not over-stimulated (see p. 141). 
 
236 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 entirely on the quality of what we are perceiving. A 
 really good book may fail to stir us if we are not in 
 the mood for it, whereas quite a poor novel may hold 
 us enthralled on a particular day because we happen to 
 be attuned to it. Similarly we must be in the mood for 
 watching a match, for perceiving the beauty of a 
 thunderstorm, and indeed for any kind of play or work, 
 in order to enjoy it to the utmost. 
 
 As in the case of active play and work, to be “in 
 the mood” for an occupation is equivalent to wanting 
 to do it. If then we may look upon sentiments and 
 complexes as “‘storage batteries’ for nervous energy 
 in the way we suggested in an earlier chapter (see p. 
 59), it follows that the nature of our mood depends 
 on the distribution of our nervous energy at the mo- 
 ment, for the centres which have most superfluous 
 energy will also have the greatest need for an outlet. 
 In active play and in work most of this energy is 
 expended in action; in passive play this path is blocked 
 and the energy has therefore to escape almost entirely 
 as emotion. This suggests that passive play is of 
 the nature of a safety-valve, of which the individual 
 makes use when too tired for personal efforts or when 
 he can find no other legitimate outlet for sentiments 
 and complexes which are becoming overcharged with 
 energy. 
 
 As was pointed out in the chapter on Sentiments 
 
Work and Play 237 
 
 and Complexes, the adolescent is particularly in need 
 of a safety-valve of some kind, for he has so many 
 contradictory impulses surging within him that he is 
 likely to be faced with repression or rebellion as his 
 only alternative if he is left to his own resources. We 
 have also seen that organised games and art and craft- 
 work are invaluable in this connection, but passive play 
 is needed as well, for young people are at times assailed 
 by longings—whether vague or definite—which they 
 cannot satisfy in any other way. 
 
 Passive play has, moreover, another effect on be- 
 haviour which we have not yet considered. At the 
 moment the onlooker merely absorbs what is given 
 him, but this is by no means the end of the matter. 
 The more the percept has appealed to him, that is to 
 say, the greater the relief it has given to unsatisfied 
 impulses, the more will the individual enjoy dwelling on 
 it afterwards and the more anxious will he be to try 
 to imitate his heroes (cf. Suggestion, p. 198), so that 
 his passive play is likely to affect both his work and 
 his active play in the long run. This tendency may 
 clearly be for good or for evil; for good if the 
 percepts suggest desirable outlets for what is sim- 
 mering within him, for evil if they suggest either 
 undesirable or wildly unlikely outlets. Thus a cine- 
 matograph performance may stimulate a boy to join 
 the scouts or to learn life-saving, but it may also sug- 
 
238 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 gest to him that burglary or cheating would give him 
 just those thrills for which he is longing. The little 
 maid-of-all-work, who is on duty the greater part of 
 the day, is driven to books to satisfy her longing for 
 romance, but the penny novelettes to which she usually 
 resorts can at best only make her feel that life is very 
 unfair because the rich lover about whom she is always 
 reading never seems to come her way. 
 
 To sum up, passive play affects behaviour in two 
 ways: on the one hand it provides temporary relief for 
 internal pressure by enabling the individual to discharge 
 superfluous energy as emotion, on the other it suggests 
 possible activities for future occasions. These activities 
 may, of course, be good, bad or indifferent, but it is 
 the fault of the environment, rather than that of the 
 adolescent if his pursuit of passive play has an undesir- 
 able effect on his behaviour. It is sometimes held that 
 this form of recreation is liable to encourage day- 
 dreaming to a harmful extent. This may be true at 
 times, but it is then usually the health of the youth or 
 his environment which is to blame. It is rare for any 
 one who is not lacking in vitality to prefer to let his 
 energy evaporate in emotion, if he is given the oppor- 
 tunity to express himself in action; but he may none 
 the less be driven to adopt this course, if it is the only 
 one which offers him the satisfaction which he desires. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 CONCLUSION! 
 
 WE have defined education as the preparation for 
 efficient citizenship, and we can now see more clearly 
 how important is the part which the community must 
 play in this process. It is true that the possibilities of 
 each individual are limited by the strength or weakness 
 of his inborn powers and tendencies; but character is 
 the product of so many forces that it is safe to assert 
 that every child of normal intelligence and stability has 
 within him the material out of which a useful member 
 of society could be fashioned in a suitable environment. 
 It would be optimistic to imagine that many young 
 people are to-day actually being given the opportunity 
 of making the best of what is within them, Yet every 
 failure means at least as much loss to the community 
 as to the individual. 
 
 If our efforts are to be attended by more success in 
 the future, the general attitude towards problems of 
 behaviour will have to become far more scientific than 
 
 239 
 
240 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 it is at present. Not only the specialist here and there, 
 but every teacher and parent will have to realise that 
 the actions of an individual are the outward expression 
 of a highly complex system of forces, which must be 
 understood, if it is to be handled wisely. 
 
 Finally, it is perhaps worth while to remind 
 the reader that the adult is himself at the mercy of 
 his sentiments and complexes, and that he has no idea 
 of the extent to which they govern him unless he has 
 himself been through a course of psycho-analysis. 
 He finds justifications for what he wants with- 
 out realising that he is deceiving himself. He 
 honestly believes that a certain attitude towards life is 
 “finer” than another, when he really means that it is 
 more in accordance with his own complexes. His 
 “group-consciousness” is probably not as well de- 
 veloped as it might be, and his self-regard will often 
 lead him astray. If he is a keen teacher and a specialist 
 he may, for instance, demand an unfair share of his 
 pupils’ time and feel convinced that his teaching sub- 
 ject is really more important or more difficult than 
 those of his colleagues. It is unnecessary to labour the 
 point. Whether his discipline be weak or strong, 
 his general behaviour be social or anti-social, the cause 
 is to be sought in his unconscious complexes. What- 
 ever his tastes and his habits, they can be explained 
 in terms of his centres of potential activity. And 
 
Conclusion 241 
 
 whatever he is thinking or doing, it will seem quite 
 reasonable to him at the time, though he may after- 
 wards decide that he was not quite himself on a par- 
 ticular occasion. Obviously the better he knows 
 himself, the better will he be able to allow for his com- 
 plexes and the more successful will he therefore be as 
 an educator. 
 
 For convenience of reference I shall here restate 
 briefly the more important of the facts which have been 
 established in the course of this book :— 
 
 (1) In the last resort every form of activity can 
 be traced back to self-preservation, to race preserva- 
 tion, or to the combined effect of these two sources of 
 energy. 
 
 (2) In the higher animal the ends of self-preserva- 
 tion and race preservation are attained by certain in- 
 nate forms of activity which allow for varying degrees 
 of adaptability. Of these the most primitive form is 
 the pure reflex, which is an inborn tendency to react 
 in one particular way to one particular stimulus or 
 set of stimuli, Next come certain forms of behaviour 
 which are partly under the control of the individual, 
 and finally forms in which there is only an inborn tend- 
 ency to attain a certain end, so that the stimuli which 
 rouse it and the reactions through which it seeks to 
 attain its end are acquired through experience. The 
 student of human behaviour is in the main concerned 
 
242 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 with the last of these—the “impulses,” as they have 
 been called in this book. 
 
 (3) Many of our impulses are connected innately 
 with more or less complex systems of reflexes. Where 
 such an organisation exists, part of the energy which 
 is set free by the percept is drafted off automatically 
 to the corresponding system of reflexes. This accounts 
 for the bodily changes which accompany hunger, fear 
 and anger and perhaps for the outward changes of 
 expression which form part of every well-defined 
 emotion. 
 
 (4) When more energy is set free by a percept or 
 idea than can be expended in attaining the end of the 
 impulse that has been roused by it, the surplus energy 
 tends to escape through the reflexes which belong to 
 the system of that impulse, with the result that we 
 experience what we call an emotion. Much of this 
 energy can, however, be diverted to other forms of 
 activity and the extent to which an individual can pre- 
 vent an overflow, by diverting it in this way in times 
 of stress, measures his control over his emotions, or 
 his “self-control.” 
 
 (5) Every check to the free flow of activity of 
 any kind tends to stimulate the self-preservative im- 
 pulses. The resulting action depends on the meaning 
 which the obstacle has for the individual in question. 
 If he regards it as dangerous, he becomes aware of 
 
Conclusion 243 
 
 a desire to avoid it; if not, he is more likely to want 
 to overcome it. 
 
 (6) There is reason to believe that memory and 
 imagination developed primarily in aid of self-preserva- 
 tion and that every individual is endowed with a 
 natural tendency to make use of his mental powers 
 when he is faced with an obstacle which he wants to 
 overcome, 
 
 (7) The way in which an individual interprets any 
 particular stimulus depends on his previous experience 
 and on his mood at the moment. His mood probably 
 depends on the distribution of his nervous energy at 
 the time, and this in turn is influenced by his disposi- 
 tion and his general attitude towards life. 
 
 (8) In the course of the second year of his life 
 a child usually becomes aware of himself as an indi- 
 vidual with needs and rights of his own. At first his 
 concept of his function in life is necessarily crude and 
 limited, but it tends to change throughout the child- 
 hood and adolescence and it remains liable to modifica- 
 tion as long as the individual is able to learn from 
 experience. In any particular case the final idea of 
 the “‘self”’ is the combined product of the innate pos- 
 sibilities of the individual and of the pressure which 
 has been exerted by his environment. — 
 
 (9g) In so far as a child is clearly aware of his own 
 individuality, self-preservation makes him anxious to 
 
244 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 adapt his behaviour to his idea of his “‘self,’’ with the 
 result that this idea becomes a centre of increasingly 
 great potential activity. 
 
 (10) Every individual tends to form sentiments 
 for the persons, objects and ideas which affect the 
 well-being of the self, either directly or indirectly. 
 These centres derive their energy more or less directly 
 from the self-regarding sentiment, and their strength 
 and permanence are consequently dependent on the ex- 
 tent to which they fulfil some need of the self. 
 
 (11) There is reason to believe that impulses can 
 become surcharged with energy and that they then 
 seek relief through any object, no matter how unprom- 
 ising. Once this has occurred, the object in question 
 has thereby become a centre of potential activity, the 
 permanence of which depends on the extent to which 
 it is able to satisfy the impulse which is in need of 
 an outlet, and, in the case of self-conscious beings, 
 on the attitude of the self towards the resulting act. 
 
 (12) Gregariousness is in its simplest form the out- 
 ward expression of fear of solitude. In human beings 
 its manifestations are, however, usually complicated 
 by the individual’s need for friendship. Both of these 
 are centres of potential activity which develop during 
 early childhood and affect behaviour throughout life 
 in innumerable ways. Alone, or combined with other 
 forces, they are responsible for the phenomena which 
 
Conclusion 245 
 
 we have studied in connection with suggestion, imita- 
 tion, love of approval, sympathy and pity. In partic- 
 ular they account for many of the problems connected 
 with class management and self-government. 
 
 (13) When an object ceases to satisfy the needs of 
 the self, the energy which was centred round it may 
 be transferred to some other object, whether old or 
 new. If this does not occur, the energy is reabsorbed 
 by the self and usually finds an outlet in some form of 
 day-dreaming, brooding or self-criticism. 
 
 (14) A centre of potential activity is indestructible 
 so long as it is the only one which can satisfy some 
 need of the self or provide an outlet for an impulse 
 which is liable to become surcharged with energy. If 
 the conscious self disapproves of a sentiment, it may 
 succeed in “forgetting” the same, but this merely 
 drives the system below the surface of consciousness, 
 where it continues to affect behaviour by such means 
 as are at its disposal. An undesirable sentiment can be 
 rendered harmless: (1) by diverting the energy from 
 it to some other object which satisfies the same need 
 of the self, or (2) by modifying the idea of the self 
 in such a way that that need ceases to exist. 
 
 (15) Sentiments and complexes tend to form in 
 their service such new centres of potential activity and 
 such habits as are likely to help them to attain their 
 ends. 
 
246 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 (16) In so far as different percepts rouse the same 
 centre of potential activity, they tend to produce similar 
 habits, if they recur with sufficient frequency. The 
 reaction to any particular percept can, however, only 
 become automatic for that percept. 
 
 (17) Ideas which occur together or in close sequence 
 tend to become associated together in such a way 
 that any one of them is thereafter liable to recall one 
 or more of the others. 
 
 (18) “The laws of association tend to disorganise 
 all systems of character in so far as they introduce 
 into them constituents which are useless or harmful, 
 and lead to the formation of bad habits; but they also 
 subserve them by strengthening serviceable connections 
 which lead to the formation of good habits. The law 
 of organisation, on its side, tends to exclude from 
 those systems all constituents that owe their presence 
 there to the action of association alone’ (Shand, 
 Foundations of Character, p. 70). 
 
 (19) Will-power is the power to strengthen a motive 
 by energy derived from the self-regarding sentiment. 
 It is therefore the name given to the impulse to fight 
 when that impulse is roused in support of a sentiment 
 or habit. 
 
 (20) The strength of a person’s character is shown 
 by the extent to which he is consistent in his be- 
 haviour, , 
 
Conclusion 247 
 
 In order to attain a really strong character, the in- 
 dividual must: (1) choose a master-aim which has a 
 sufficient element of permanence to outlast the ordin- 
 ary accidents of life; (2) organise all his other senti- 
 ments in relation to this aim; (3) form suitable habits 
 of choice; and (4) check the growth of habits and 
 sentiments which are likely to hinder him in his purpose. 
 
 The extent to which an individual succeeds in de- 
 veloping a strong character depends: (1) on his will- 
 power; (2) on his disposition or general attitude to- 
 wards life; (3) on the strength of the sentiment which 
 he is able to form round his master-aim; (4) on the 
 strength of rival sentiments and (5) on the extent 
 
 to which his environment proves a help or a hindrance. 
 ) (21) A strong character is not necessarily a fine 
 character. We judge the quality of an individual’s 
 character at least as much by the quality of his master- 
 sentiment as by the extent to which he is consistent 
 in his actions. 
 
 (22) Work may be defined as an activity which 
 is initiated by the consciousness of the self as a lasting 
 entity, play as an activity which is the direct expression 
 of the desires of the moment. 
 
 Childhood is the time for pure play, because the 
 young child lives entirely in the present. As he grows 
 older he becomes capable of work, because experience 
 gradually teaches him that actions are liable to produce 
 
248 The Education of Behaviour 
 
 pleasant or unpleasant results long after they have 
 taken place. 
 
 (23) It is almost impossible to exaggerate the 
 educational value of “pure play” and of those mixtures 
 of work and play in which the play element is pre- 
 dominant. Occupations of this nature develop the 
 latent powers of the individual, act as safety-valves in 
 times of emotional strain, teaches various social vir- 
 tues through direct experience of their value, and, in 
 the case of adolescents, counteract the effects of the 
 unduly specialised or mechanical work which is often 
 unavoidable at this age. 
 
 (24) “Passive play’ depends on the complete sur- 
 render of the self to the guidance of another, and 
 provides in return food for impulses and centres of 
 potential activity which cannot find sufficient outlet 
 in actual life. A case in point is the constructive 
 impulse, which readily becomes overcharged with 
 energy and which finds an easy outlet in the activities 
 of the imagination. 
 
 (25) Passive play often lays the foundation for 
 future play and work by suggesting new forms of 
 activity to the individual. It is not likely to lead to 
 undue day-dreaming in any person who is in normal 
 health and who is given suitable opportunities of ex- 
 pressing himself in action. 
 
 (26) The psychology of behaviour teaches us that 
 
Conclusion 249 
 
 a community has only itself to blame for the vast ma- 
 jority of its failures and semi-failures, but that this 
 wastage is likely to continue until there is a far more 
 widespread appreciation of the importance of study- 
 - ing the forces which govern behaviour. 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Boyp Barrett, Motive Force and Motivation Tracks. 
 (Longmans. ) 
 Bruce, Handicaps of Childhood. (Kegan Paul.) 
 Freup, Psycho-Pathology of Everyday Life. (T. Fisher 
 Unwin.) 
 Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego. 
 (International Psycho-Analytical Press.) 
 GaLton, Enquiry into the Human Faculty. (Dent.) 
 HEAty, Mental Conflicts and Misconduct. (Kegan Paul.) 
 Hort, The Freudian Wish. (T. Fisher Unwin.) 
 W. James, Textbook of Psychology. (Macmillan.) 
 Principles of Psychology. (Macmillan.) 
 June, Analytical Psychology. (Bailliére.) 
 
 Lay, The Child’s Unconscious Mind. (Kegan Paul.) 
 LovEDAY AND GREEN, Introduction to Psychology. (Ox- 
 ford University Press.) 
 
 McDoucatu, Introduction to Socsal Psychology. 
 (Methuen. ) 
 The Group Mind. (Cambridge Press.) 
 Nunn, Education: Its Data and First Principles. 
 (Edward Arnold.) 
 251 
 
252 Bibliography 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER, Education: Intellect, Moral and 
 Physical. (Williams and Norgate.) 
 
 SHAND, Foundatsons of Character. (Macmillan.) 
 
 Trotter, Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War. (T. 
 Fisher Unwin.) 
 
 F. Watts, Educatson for Self-Realisation and Social 
 Service. (University of London Press.) 
 
 CanNOoN, Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and 
 Rage. (Appleton.) / 
 Licx.tey, The Nervous System. (Longmans.) 
 
 CALDWELL Cook, The Play Way. (Heinemann.) 
 Dewey, Schools of To-morrow. (Dent.) 
 
 Groos, The Play of Animals. (Appleton.) 
 The Play of Man. (Heinemann.) 
 
 Woops, Advance in Coeducatson. (Sidgwick and Jack- 
 son. ) 
 
 Educational Experiments in England. (Meth- 
 uen. ) 
 
INDEX 
 
 Ability, effect on impulse to 
 construct, 53 
 Ach, 170, 171, 194, 196 
 Activity, impulsive, 61, I10 
 in connection with re- 
 flexes, III, 112 
 potential, 59, 61, 244, 248 
 reflex, 107 
 Acts, purposeless, explained, 82 
 Adolescence, 72° 
 zsthetic development during, 
 229 
 impulse to collect during, 50 
 impulse to investigate during, 
 
 49 
 problems of, Chap. XI 
 self-assertion during, 36 
 time of active choice, 7 
 unsuitable work during, 231 
 work and play during, 227 
 Adolescent, 6-7, 89, 147, 230 
 activities of, 226 
 friendships of, 39 
 self-absorption of, 158 seq. 
 sex instruction of, 42 
 shyness of, 163 
 spare-time of, 231 
 sympathy of, 157, 158 
 Adrenal glands, 168 
 Adrenaline, 111 
 Anna, 84 i 
 Approval, 183 
 a “‘lawful’’ obstacle, 188 
 love of, 184, 198 
 causes summarised, 94 
 in training of character, 190 
 various causes of, 92 
 Association areas, 108 
 Associations, by contiguity, 79, 
 80, 246 
 
 253 
 
 Associations, method of free, 79, 
 81, 85, 88, 121 
 Attainments, dependent on en- 
 vironment, 5 
 Awareness, loss of, 116 
 Axon, 102 
 
 Bagley, 134 
 Bain, 79 
 Behaviour, 78-80 
 consistency in, 174 
 effect on repressed complexes, 
 83 
 factors deciding, 7 
 importance of desire in, 13 
 impulsive, 184 
 influenced by sentiments and 
 complexes, 86 
 problems of, 86 
 Blame, grading of, 189 
 in training of character, 189 
 Boyd Barrett, 174 
 experiment of, 126 
 
 Table I, 128 
 Table II, 130 
 Bruce, 163 
 
 Cerebellum, its function, 106 
 Cerebrum, distribution of nerve- 
 centres in, 107 
 its function, 106, 109 
 Chance, defined, 123 
 Character, a ‘‘fine,’’ 179 
 based on sentiments, 174 
 defined, 165 
 psychology of, Chap. VIIT 
 strength of, 174, 197, 246 
 training of, 180 
 Child, development of, 86 
 
254 
 
 Choice, automatic, 129 
 difficulties in, 178 
 exhibits character, 165 
 forces determining, 165 
 inconsistency of, 129 
 Michotte and Prum’s experi- 
 ment in, 173, 174 
 Citizen, 12 
 characteristics of an efficient, 4 
 Coeducation, its value, 40 
 Collateral, 102 
 Committees, 209 
 Competition, between children, 
 224 
 between groups, 225 
 Complexes, Chap. IV, 118, 166, 
 236, 240, 245 
 primitive, 63, 218 
 Complexes repressed, 83, 86, 119 
 outlets in disguised form, 83 
 habits originating from, 87, 
 121 
 unconscious, 88 
 Conduct, influence of environ- 
 ment, 5-7 
 stages of, 184 
 Conflict, in desire for friendship, 
 
 gI 
 Copying, its function, 66 
 Crowd, 90, 150 
 
 its effect on impulse and emo- 
 
 tion, I51 
 
 psychology of, 204 
 Cruelty, a form of revenge, 154 
 Curiosity, 17, 47, 48 
 
 Day-dreaming, 218, 228, 248 
 Dendron, 102 
 Desire, conflict of, 73, 74 
 for right action, 7 
 in growth of habits, 135 
 to help, 153 
 to win approval, 8, 10 
 Dewey, 211 
 Disapproval, 183 
 a “‘lawful’’ obstacle, 187 
 Disobedience, apparent, 8-10 
 real, 8-10 
 Displeasure, 193 
 Disposition, 166, 247 
 physiological basis, 167 
 
 Index 
 
 Economic conditions, effect of, 
 
 49 
 Education, as preparation for 
 citizenship, 3 
 of impulse to avoid danger, 32 
 of mating impulse, 38, 41 
 Egotism of young child, 34 
 Emotion, connection with im- 
 pulse, 19 
 control of, 143 
 defined, 19 
 expression in, 152, 242 
 its dangers, 152 
 James-Lange theory of, 138, 
 140, I4I 
 physiological changes in, 139 
 pleasure-toned, I41, 142 
 preferred to action, 238 
 uncontrolled, 142 
 Endocrine glands, 168 
 Environment, 38, 86, 99, I19, 
 137, 143, 154, 158, 189, 
 202, 223, 238 
 artificial, 183 
 defined, 11 
 effect on impulses, 31, 35, 47, 
 2 
 
 effect on sentiments, 60, 64, 
 68, 69, 76 
 limitations of, I1 
 scope of, 4 
 source of foolhardiness, 33 
 Experience, lessons from direct, 
 182 
 personal, 156, 227 
 previous, 243 
 repressed in little children, 83 
 Expression, emotional, 233, 242, 
 facial, 141, 149 
 
 Failures fault of community, 249 
 Fatigue, 235 
 Fear, 30, 31, 32, 46, 47, 242 
 changed to self-assertion, 63 
 as complex or sentiment, 90, 
 I 
 in adults, 91 
 in child, 90 
 of being alone, 99 
 of Life, repressed, 161 
 Feeling tone, 20, 138 
 
 al diate nile nine 
 
aie TSE ES 
 
 ae, heh oe? 
 
 Index 
 
 Foolhardiness, 32 
 Freedom of individual, 196 
 Freud, 72, 73, 204 
 Friendship, 40, 70, 91, 94 
 
 Games, during adolescence, 231 
 organised, 227 
 social importance of, 227 
 Gangs, 68, 224 
 unstable in young children, 91 
 Geography, abnormal interest 
 in, 84 
 Government, forms of, 204 
 school, 206 
 Gregariousness, 188, 221, 244 
 as fear of being alone, ‘90 
 in relation to love of approval, 
 
 93 
 interaction with self-assertion, 
 
 95 
 its effects on behaviour, 90 
 its effect on sympathy, 148, 
 153, 154 
 psychology of, 90 
 Group, 188 
 consciousness, 208 
 leader, 205, 212 
 psychology, 204 
 Groups not self-governing, 204 
 self-governing, 208 
 
 Habit, Chap. VI, 80, 109 
 consciously acquired, 118, 119 
 effect of chance, 123 
 law of, III 
 unconsciously acquired, 118, 
 
 119, 120 
 
 Habit of choice, 147, 193 
 experiments on, 133 
 hindrance in development of, 
 
 122 
 in development of self-control, 
 
 147 
 
 in formation of character, 175 
 
 origin of, 117 
 
 so-called transference of, 133 
 
 theoretically considered, 133 
 Habits, rules for acquiring, 124 
 
 specialised, 189 
 
 their formation, 123 
 
 255 
 
 Habits, treatment of wundesir- 
 able, 125, 185 
 Habitual response, automatic, 
 114 
 resisted, 114 
 value of, 115 
 Head, 168 
 Help harmful, 155 
 Heredity, scope of, 4 
 Hero worship, 70, 80, 205, 207 
 in development of individual, 
 72 
 sham and genuine, 71 
 Hesitation, 129. See also Inde- 
 cision 
 Hobbies, 56, 226, 231 
 satisfy impulse to construct, 
 
 54 
 Human being, impulse in, 23 
 reflex in, 23 
 Hunger, 242 
 
 Ideals, 200 
 growth of, 197, 204 
 in regulation of conduct, 184 
 origin of, 197 
 
 Ideas, early association of, 66, 67 
 in relation to impulses, 14 
 
 Imagination, 109, 156, 243, 248 
 in passive play, 233 
 its origin, 235 
 
 Imitate, to, 68 
 
 Imitation, 96, 148, 234. Seealso 
 
 Copying 
 
 conscious, 97, 98 
 unconscious, 98, 9 
 
 Impulse, Chaps. a a SEDGE, 
 
 73, 141, 143, 229, 244 
 
 adaptability, 23 
 always momentary, 55 
 cannot be killed, 33 
 contrasted with sentiment, 57, 
 
 60 
 defined, 16, 242 
 development of, 220 
 educable, 24 
 effect of blocking, 16, 18 
 in race and self-preservation, 
 27 
 specific reactions to, 24, 25 
 survival value, 28 
 
256 
 
 Impulse—Continued 
 term preferred to instinct, 26 
 varying strength of, 10 
 to assert oneself, 33, 41 
 to avoid danger, 15, 29, III, 
 139 
 to collect, 21, 51 
 to construct, 19, 51-53, 62, 
 235 
 to fight, 36, III 
 to investigate, 29, 41, 46, 49, 
 
 50 
 to protect the weak, 43, 152, 
 156 
 to seek a mate, 37 
 Impulses, individual differences 
 in, 167 
 Impulsive, defined, 61 note 
 Indecision, 126. See also Hesita- 
 tion 
 Indifference, apparent, 58 
 Inferiority, feeling of, 199 
 Innate differences, their effect on 
 sentiments, 60 
 Instinct, 90, 91 
 difficulties in definition of, 26 
 note 
 Interest, instability of, 62 
 place in development of in- 
 dividual, 57 
 Interests, as sentiments, 56 
 depending on intercourse with 
 others, 91 
 in relation to impulse to col- 
 lect, 51 
 in relation to impulse to in- 
 vestigate, 46 
 Introspection, 65, 129 
 Inventor, his importance to 
 
 group, 49 
 
 James, 139, 170 
 
 Judgment, difficulties in forma- 
 tion of, 77 
 
 Jung, 72, 73, 84, 85 
 
 Kindergarten, 44 
 Knowledge, acquisition of, 10 
 its dependence on environ- 
 ment, 47 
 
 Index 
 
 Lange, 139 
 
 Love, egotistic, 67, 68, 208 
 for friends, 39 
 for parent, 93 
 
 McDougall, 90, 95 note, 174, 211 
 quoted, 184 
 Master, as hero, 75, 207 
 Medulla oblongata, its func- 
 tion, 106 
 Memory, 109, 243 
 Michotte, 170 
 experiment of, 172 
 Midbrain, its function, 106 
 Mind tunnelling, 79, 88 
 Mood, 236, 243 
 its origin, 236 
 Motivation, 126 
 Motive, 137 
 Muscles, co-ordination of coarser, 
 219 
 co-ordination of finer, 223 
 Myers, 168 
 
 Nail-biting, 120 
 Neatness, 134 
 as an ideal, 135 
 Nervous system, autonomic, 105 
 central, 105 
 interdependence of physio- 
 logical and _ psychological 
 changes, 109 
 its functions summarised, 112 
 physiology of, Chap. V 
 structure of, 105, 106 
 Neurone, 101 
 continuity of function, 102 
 response to stimuli, 103 
 
 Obstacles, ‘‘lawful,”’ 180 
 defined, 181 
 “‘lawless,’’ 180 
 defined, 181 
 Origin, the, of children, 85, 86 
 
 Pain, avoidable, 29, 30 
 
 Patronage, 153 
 
 Percept, 59 
 effect on 
 
 distribution of 
 energy, 16 
 
Index 
 
 Percept—Continued 
 in relation to impulse, 14, 15 
 Perception, 109 
 Percepts, 43 
 arousing fear, 30 
 Perseveration, defined, 167 
 effect on behaviour, 167 
 Pets in kindergarten, 44 
 Play, Chap. X 
 as means of self-expression, 
 232 
 defined, 217, 247 
 differentiated, 215 
 during infancy, 219 
 imaginative, 220, 221 
 in adult, 217, 218 
 in child, 217 
 in pursuit of knowledge, 229 
 involving skill, 220 
 its educational value, 230 
 pure, subordinated, 224 
 unimaginative, 220 
 passive, 233, 248 
 criticism in, 234 
 imitation in, 237 
 summarised, 238 
 Pleasure, 171, 193, 196 
 its physiological effect, 192 
 Pons, its function, 106 
 Pot-hooks, 98 
 Praise, grading of, 189 
 in training of character, 189 
 Preservative tendency, 167 
 Pride, 17 
 Prum, 170 
 experiment of, 172 
 Psycho-analysis, 119 
 Psychology, modern analytic, 
 73, 79, 80 
 Public opinion, 70, 77, 90 
 influence of, 68 
 strength of, 94 
 Punishments, 185 
 arbitrary, 186 
 natural, 191 
 their danger, 184 
 
 Race preservation, 241 
 as source of impulses, 27 
 at expense of self-preserva- 
 tion, 28 
 
 257 
 
 Reaction, development of, 25 
 primary form checked, 19 
 types of, 25 
 
 Reasoning, 109 
 
 Recognition, 109 
 
 Recreation through emotion, 
 
 152 
 Reflex, Chap. IT, 24, 27-29 
 defined, 22, 241 
 differentiated from impulse, 
 20, 21 
 in race-preservation, 28 
 in self-preservation, 28 
 its primitve nature, 22 
 physiology of, 103 
 uneducable, 24 
 Religious exercises, 160 
 Repetition, in formation of 
 habits, 113 
 physiological and psychologi- 
 cal, aspects of, 109 
 Repression, resistance in recall, 
 
 89 
 Reproof deferred, 216 
 Resistance, its effect on habits, 
 124, 125 
 Responsibility, of child, 4 
 of educator, 4 
 Rewards, 185 
 natural, 191 
 their danger, 184 
 Ruediger, 135 
 
 School, giving help in, 45 
 government in, 206 
 sex instruction in, 41 
 Self, and non-self, 34 
 in acts of will, 170, 173 
 social ideal of, 76 
 the, 75, 216, 243, 247 
 Self-absorption, cause, 164 
 Self-assertion, 58, 93, 95, 97, 155; 
 200, 221 
 as immediate cause of pug- 
 nacity, 36 
 in relation to protective im- 
 pulse, 43 
 in sympathy, 153 
 Self-assertiveness, 233. See also 
 Self-assertion 
 
258 
 
 Self-consciousness, characteris- 
 tic of sentiment, 63 
 Self-control, 92, 143, 147, 242 
 its development, 145 
 Self-deception, 208 
 Self-forgetting, 232 
 Self-government, 210 
 Self-preservation, 32, 33, 159, 
 241 
 as source of impulses, 27, 
 Self-regard, 85, 99, 150, 177, 188, 
 195, 197, 198, 202, 208, 246 
 as source of volition, 174 
 its development, 76 
 its effect on choice, 173 
 Self-respect, 190. See also Self- 
 regard 
 Self-subjection, 95 note 
 Sentiment, Chap. IV 
 as cause of fixed likes and dis- 
 likes, 56 
 as centre of potential activity, 
 
 ae 
 defined, 59 
 development of, 64 
 during adolescence, 70 
 effect on habits and judgment, 
 
 77 
 summarised, 78 
 master, 176, 247 
 self-regarding. 
 regard. 
 sources analysed, 63, 65, 75 
 varying in permanence, 62 
 Sentiments, 65, 74, 118, 122, 166, 
 236, 240, 244 
 Sex instruction, duty of parent, 
 
 See Self- 
 
 42, 86 
 duty of school, 42 
 Shand, 59 note, 78 
 quoted, 175, 246 
 Shyness, cause and cure, 164 
 Skill, children’s games of, 223 
 Social intercourse, 161 
 Spencer, Herbert, 3 
 Spinal cord, 105 
 Squ‘re, 134, 136 
 Standards of behaviour, as senti- 
 ments, 56 
 Standards of conduct, 69 
 graded, 196 
 
 Tider 
 
 Strain, emotional, 160, 230 
 Study, love of, 160 
 Sublimation, 85, 120 
 Suggestibility, 197, 205 
 Suggestible defined, 95 
 Suggestion defined, 95 
 direct, 197, 199 
 experiment in, 200 
 indirect, 198 
 mass, 197 
 defined, 97 
 prestige, 97, 197 
 defined, 97 
 Suggestions, from superiors, 
 equals and inferiors, 95, 96, 97 
 Suprarenal glands, 168 
 Sympathy, Chap. VILB 
 checked by shyness, 163 
 in adolescence, 157 
 in desire to help, 152 
 its growth in childhood, 157 
 its psychology, 148 
 pure, defined, 156 
 true, 153 
 
 Temperament, 166 
 physiology of, 168 
 
 Thalamus, 110 
 
 Thumb- sucking, 120, 194 
 
 Thyroid gland, 168 
 
 Tools, delicate, 223 
 purposefully used, 221 
 
 Trotter, 90 
 
 Unconscious, the, 72, 73 
 Unpleasure, 171, 178 
 its physiological effect, 191 
 
 Vernier Chronoscope, 127 
 
 Weapons used to overcome 
 obstacles, 17, 18 
 
 Will-power, 166, 234, 247 
 Ach’s experiment on, 170 
 defined, 170 
 essential to strength of char- 
 
 acter, 175 
 
 origin, 174 
 limitations illustrated, 177 
 
Index 259 
 
 Williams, quoted, 169 Work, defined, 217, 247 
 
 Woods, Miss Alice, 211 differentiated, 215 
 
 Work, Chap. X during adolescence, 226 
 art and craft, as play, 228 during infancy, 219 
 
 as emotional relief, 160 
 beginning of, 221, 225 Yule, 123 
 
The Mind in Action 
 
 A Study of Human Interests 
 
 By 
 
 George H. Green 
 
 Author of “ Psychanalysis in the Class Room,” etc. 
 
 Since the advent of scientific method into 
 the mental philosophies, the field of psycho- 
 logy has been enlarged, defined, and redivided. 
 With the completion of the cycle, laymen as 
 well as scholars have sensed a certain futility 
 in the process, which seems to typify the 
 eternal recurrence of things. And along with 
 all definite, positive progress in the field 
 have appeared schisms; ‘‘ behaviorism,”’ 
 mystical dualism, confusion, complications, 
 ‘* complexes.” 
 
 In this book Dr. Green proceeds from a 
 background of fundamentals and with an 
 intimate knowledge of the contemporary psy- 
 chological milieu, into a close and consistent 
 exposition of ‘‘ the mind in action.” 
 
 G. P. Putnam’s Sons 
 New York London 
 
Ethics and Some 
 Modern World Problems 
 
 By 
 William McDougall 
 
 Professor of Psychology in Harvard University 
 Author of ‘‘ The Group Mind’”’ 
 
 From the very first, ethics has at- 
 tempted both to give a causal explanation 
 of moral phenomena, and to propound a 
 theory of what things are good and what 
 acts are right. In this book, as in his 
 earlier works, William McDougall avoids 
 such a dangerous dualism. The inter- 
 pretations, analyses, suggestions embodied 
 in Ethics and Some Modern World Problems, 
 follow consistently from the widely read 
 The Group Mind. Professor McDougall 
 handles old problems with a method, 
 distinctive, new, and single-minded. 
 
 G. P. Putnam’s Sons 
 New York London 
 
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