Instinct in man; a contribution to the psychology of education

V

t

I

INSTINCT IN MAN

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INSTINCT IN MAN

A CONTRIBUTION TO THE
PSYCHOLOGY OF EDUCATION

BY

JAMES DREVER, M.A., B.Sc., D.PHIL.

Lecturer on Education in the University of Edinburgh

Cambridge :

at the University Press

1917

PREFATORY NOTE

rP!HE following essay was originally submitted and approved
JL as a thesis for the Doctorate in Philosophy of the Uni-
versity of Edinburgh. Certain slight changes, chiefly in the
direction of compressing the historical portions, have since
been introduced, but nothing material has been either added
or subtracted.

The essential portions of the essay are those represented by
chapters v to xi. The short discussions of the 'Sentiments'
and the ' Appetites ' in chapters ix and xi were added mainly for
the sake of completeness, and in order to show the relation of
the 'instincts' to mental development and a developed mental
life. Originally it was intended to treat this development
more fully, but considerations of space forbade, and the dis-
cussions in question represent all that is left of that part of
the original design. It was also intended to deal in some
detail with the investigations and theories of Jung, Freud, and
their followers, at least in their educational bearings. Ulti-
mately, however, it was decided to leave this topic for another
occasion. Hence, in the work which follows, only the merest
suggestions of the relations of these theories to some of the
more important points in the discussion will be found.

The historical sketch of views on ' Instinct ' in modern times,
in chapters II and in, is largely of the nature of an Introduction,
and its main purpose is to justify the general sense in which
'Instinct' is used throughout. It is possibly too long for an
Introduction, as it is undoubtedly too short for a real history,
and no claim to originality of views or treatment is put forward.
Nevertheless it is no mere compilation. There has hitherto
been no attempt, so far as the writer knows, to deal adequately

372335

vi Prefatory Note

with this part of the history of psychology. Hence, though
not claiming consideration as such a history, this section of the
essay may at least claim to indicate the main lines upon which
a real historical discussion of Instinct must proceed. The
object of the essay will explain the reason for the selection
made, as regards the works of the older psychologists to be
specially emphasized. A fairly full account is given of one
aspect of Malebranche's psychology, and from a point of view
seldom previously taken up. There is no English translation
of Malebranche's Recherche de la Verite later than 1700. Con-
sequently his psychology is almost unknown in England, and
seems to have been forgotten in France. This is, we believe,
very unfortunate, for Malebranche must take high rank as a
psychologist. The controversies regarding 'instinct,' of the
later 18th century, and the older 'Vitalism' have not been
considered sufficiently important for our present-day discus-
sions of Instinct, to deserve more than passing mention.

It may perhaps prevent misunderstanding if we state here,
clearly and concisely, our attitude towards one important aspect
of biology and its theories of the origin of Instinct. While
it must be acknowledged that the controversy between Dar-
winians and Lamarckians as to the transmission of acquired
characteristics is by no means settled in favour of the former,
yet the definite adoption of the Darwinian point of view appears
to simplify the treatment of the psychology of Instinct, how-
ever it may be as regards its biology. Consequently it has
been deemed advisable to speak throughout as if the theory of
natural selection were the established and orthodox biological
account of the mode in which instincts have been evolved. The
difficulties which this theory involves do not seem, for the
present at any rate, to be psychological difficulties. If and
when they do so present themselves, it may perhaps be necessary
to revise and modify some portions of our treatment, but our
descriptive psychology of Instinct cannot be affected.

The only other point requiring to be noticed is with respect
to the use made of literature, especially of foreign literature.
Wherever a standard translation was available, that has been
utilized, but the originals have also, in the majority of cases,

Prefatory Note vii

been consulted, and the originals of all quotations from Male-
branche are given in the footnotes. Further the views of no
writer have been mentioned, except merely incidentally, without
direct recourse being had to the writer's own original works.
A full bibliography of practically all the books consulted and
used has been appended.

The author desires to acknowledge a Grant, not exceeding
£50, in the form of a guarantee against possible loss in the
publication of this work, from the Carnegie Trust for the
Universities of Scotland.

J. D.

EDINBURGH.
1st July, 1917.

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

I. INTRODUCTION 1

The psychological account — the fields of biology, physio-
logy, psychology — the method of psychology — behaviour
of lower organisms — psycho-physical parallelism — physio-
logical psychology — relation of psychology to philosophy.
Definition of Instinct — objective or biological sense of
word— the older sense — Lord Herbert of Cherbury — im-
possibility of defining Instinct without introducing psy-
chological terms — Romanes — Darwin — McDougall — Lloyd
Morgan — psychology as the science of behaviour — pro-
visional definition.

II. DESCRIPTIVE PSYCHOLOGY OF NATURAL INCLINATION OR

INSTINCT FROM HOBBES TO DUGALD STEWART . . 21
Influences in present day psychology — intellectualism —
not characteristic of older psychologists — Hobbes — Des-
cartes — Malebranche — Spinoza — Hutcheson — Hume —
Adam Smith — Adam Ferguson — Reid — Dugald Stewart.

III. PHILOSOPHICAL AND SCIENTIFIC VIEWS OF THE NATURE

AND MEANING OF INSTINCT 57

German thought — Leibniz — Kant — Fichte — Schopen-
hauer— von Hartmann. Physiological psychology — Ca-
banis — the phrenologists — Magendie — present day attitude
of physiology. Biology and animal psychology — biological
criticism of 'religious-metaphysical' view — the biological
account — Lamarck and Darwin — 'lapsed intelligence'
view — Weismann — organic selection — general result of
physiology and biology.

IV. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL NATURE OF INSTINCT — THE ' KNOW-

LEDGE' OF INSTINCT 82

Preliminary hypothesis — the 'life impulse' — analysis
of instinct experience — perceptual experience — 'psychical
integration' — the cognitive element in instinct-experience
— Bergson's intuitive knowledge — identification with per-
ceptual experience — the levels of intelligence — Bergson's
citation of the hunting instinct of Ammophila— no evi-
dence of knowledge other than the knowledge of perceptual

Contents ix

CHAP. PAGE

experience — evidence against such a view from actual mani-
festations of Instinct — part played by smell — effect of
slight modification of situation — errors and aberrations of
Instinct — the opposition between Intelligence and Instinct.

V. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL NATURE OF INSTINCT — INSTINCT

AND INTELLIGENCE Ill "'

The discussion in British Journal of Psychology — Lloyd
Morgan — study of a moorhen — account of learning from
experience — psychologically untenable — ' meaning ' — Stout
— Instinct as a purely biological term — objections to
Stout's views — Myers — Instinct and Intelligence represent
two ways of looking at same fact — failure to prove thesis —
finalism and mechanism — possibility of accepting Myers'
conclusion while rejecting parts of his argument.

VI. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL NATURE OF INSTINCT — INSTINCT-
INTEREST AND 'MEANING' 130'

Where does meaning emerge ? — Lloyd Morgan's account
— primary and secondary meaning — primary meaning
affective — Lloyd Morgan's moorhen again — 'primary tissue
of meaning ' — Titchener and the sensationalist view — asso-
ciation experiments — the interest factor — qualities of
affective experience — the emergence of emotion — 'feeling
tension' — pleasure and pain — suggested emotional char-
acter of pain affection — pain sensation and objective
reference.

VII. CLASSIFICATION OF INSTINCTIVE TENDENCIES OF MAN-

INSTINCT AND EMOTION 149 ~

Instinct in human behaviour — pure Instinct — Instinct
and Emotion — Thorndike — McDougall — characteristics of
Emotion — Emotion not invariable accompaniment of
instinctive activity — biological function of Emotion —
Thorndike's view that all instincts are of the nature of
pure instincts not tenable — Fear — Anger — classification
of instinctive tendencies in Man.

VIII. THE SPECIFIC 'INSTINCT' TENDENCIES . . . . 171

The specific Instinct tendencies — specificity — Fear — its
function — Anger and the Hunting Instinct — educational
significance — the Gregarious Instinct — educational im-
portance— the Acquisitive Tendency — Courtship and the
Self -tendencies — 'joy' emotions — the Parental Instinct —
Curiosity — the fundamental laws of Character— the pure
instincts.

x Contents

CHAP. PAGE

IX. INTERESTS AND SENTIMENTS f 207

Shand's specialization of the word 'sentiment' — defini-
tion of Sentiment — development of sentiments — relation
of Sentiment to Instinct — relation to acquired interest —
'interest dispositions' — classification of sentiments — the
self-sentiment.

X. THE GENERAL 'INSTINCT' TENDENCIES . . . . 219

Play — psychological nature — criticism of Karl Groos —
'make-believe' — the aesthetic consciousness — educational
significance of play — Experimentation — the 'work' ten-
dency— Imitation — Thorndike's denial of the general
tendency — types of imitation — educational significance —
Sympathy — sympathetic induction of emotion — Thorn-
dike's denial of some of the facts — importance of sympathy
in development of child — Suggestibility — conditions —
'suggestive' ideas and ideomotor action — doubts regarding
claim of suggestibility to be regarded as instinctive —
question left open.

XL THE 'APPETITE' TENDENCIES 246

Characteristic marks of 'appetite' as distinguished from
'instinct' — specific 'appetite' tendencies — Disgust — 'appe-
tite' and 'desire' — general 'appetite' tendencies — acquired
appetites — interest dispositions of the 'appetite' order.

APPENDIX

I. MEANING AS AFFECTIVE 257

II. DRIESCH'S PHYSIOLOGICAL CRITERIA OF REFLEX ACTIVITY,

INSTINCT, AND ' ACTION ' 260

III. THE «JOY' EMOTIONS 266

BIBLIOGRAPHY 270

INDEX 275

CHAPTER I

•

INTRODUCTION

Our purpose is to attempt to give a psychological account
of Instinct in Man, and thereafter to study, still in the main
from the psychological point of view, the relation of Instinct
to Emotion, with special reference to human emotions, and the
part which Instinct plays in that phase of human development
to which wj3 give the name Education. We must, therefore,
first of all get a clear idea of what is involved in a ' psychological
account.' That we shall make our aim in the present chapter,
and we shall also endeavour to arrive at what might be called
a working notion of Instinct from the psychological point of
view, as a preliminary to the more detailed study of Instinct
with the object of attaining a scientific view of it within the
universe of discourse of psychology.

To determine clearly what is implied in 'psychological
account' is by no means an easy matter. The text-book of
psychology is not always to be relied upon as a safe guide in
this respect. Owing to the peculiar relation of psychology to
the development of the "philosophy of the human mind1" the
text-book of psychology often contains a good deal that is
philosophy rather than psychology. On the other hand, some
of the more recent developments in psychology have been in
close association with developments in physiology and in

1 This name is characteristically given by philosophers of the Scottish
School to their philosophy, which included psychology, epistemology, and
ethics, but it may with equal fitness be applied to the whole development of
philosophy from Locke to Mill, exclusive of the German philosophical thought
of that period. The very great importance of this "philosophy of the human
mind" for the development of psychology will be indicated later.

D. 1

2 Introduction [CH.

biology, and, as a consequence, the more recent text-books of
psychology contain a good deal that is physiology or biology
rather than psychology. No doubt most of these divergences
from the strict letter of the 'psychological account' could be
easily and completely justified from the standpoint of the
text-books in question. Nevertheless our concern at present
being with the psychological as such, we cannot take any stand-
point except the purely psychological.

In the case of a subject like Instinct we should naturally
expect a more serious intrusion into psychology on the part of
physiology or biology, than on the part of philosophy. Accord-
ingly we may begin by trying to mark off the 'psychological
account' from the physiological and the biological. If that is
adequately done, the main difficulty will be overcome, and the
lesser difficulty from the side of philosophy can be easily met.

The phenomena of animal behaviour which we group to-
gether under the term 'instinctive' seem to be primarily the
concern of the biologist rather than of the psychologist. In
a certain sense biology may of course be regarded as inclusive
of psychology, just as it is inclusive of physiology. But that
is only the general, and, more especially, the theoretical sense
of biology. The concrete and practical activities of the biologist
delimit a sphere of work different from the sphere of both
psychologist and physiologist, and the actual methods of
biology are the methods of neither psychology nor physiology.
Hence, at the present stage of development of the sciences
which study living organisms and their behaviour, it will
probably conduce to clearness both of thought and of exposition,
as it will almost certainly conduce to the progress of the respec-
tive sciences themselves, if we distinguish somewhat sharply
between them.

Biology we may take as the science which studies the general
phenomena of life and the behaviour of living organisms
objectively. It is concerned, in the first instance, with the
behaviour of living organisms and the bearing of that behaviour
on the conservation of the individual and the perpetuation of
the race. It is concerned, secondly, with the conditions which
determine that behaviour in their general objective aspect,

i] Introduction 3

that is, so far as these conditions depend upon the general
structure of the organism, its relation to its environment, the
operation of hereditary transmission, spontaneous variation,
and natural selection. It is concerned, in the third place, with
the results which follow from that behaviour, again in their
general objective aspect, that is, so far as these results deter-
mine general structure, relation to environment, the operation
of heredity, variation, and natural selection.

Physiology is concerned primarily with the objective study
of the properties, processes, and functions of living matter, so
far as these determine the behaviour of living organisms, but
always with the aim — and this is very important — of ultimately
expressing the behaviour of living organisms in terms of physical
processes and physical laws. This aim is the inevitable aim
of the physiologist as such. If it were realized, then physiology
would necessarily become a part of physics, and biology as a
separate science would apparently disappear. So long, how-
ever, as the phenomena of life refuse to be expressed in terms
of physics, physiology as such and biology as such will exist
as independent sciences working side by side. But of this we
must be perfectly clear. The physiologist is quite within his
rights, is in truth doing his duty as physiologist, in pushing
the physical explanation of the phenomena of living matter as
far as it will go. That some physiologists do not believe that
the physical explanation will ever cover all the phenomena of
living matter does not alter the essential aim of physiology in
the least. Nor does the fact that many physiologists are also
biologists, and that most biologists are physiologists, alter the
relation between the sciences as such.

What then is the field of psychology as such ? Psychology,
as such, is primarily concerned with the study of experience as
experience, and with the interpretation of the behaviour of
living organisms in terms of experience. It finds common
ground with the other sciences in its attempting to understand
behaviour, the behaviour of living organisms, but for psychology
the understanding of behaviour means interpreting it in psycho-
logical terms. The characteristic field of psychology is the
inner world which in some way 'corresponds' to the external

1—2

4 Introduction [CH.

manifestations of activity, which we term behaviour. This
field cannot be studied objectively, in the sense in which we
speak of objective methods of study as regards physiology.
Hence, while both physiologist and psychologist may attempt
to explain the same facts of behaviour, the two explanations
must necessarily be in very different terms.

This peculiarity of psychology — for this characteristic marks
it off from all the physical and natural sciences — is at once its
strength and its weakness. It is the strength of psychology,
because the psychologist has a more direct relation to his
subject matter in his own experience than physicist, physiologist,
or biologist can have to his. It is the weakness of psychology
because this direct relation is limited to the psychologist's own
individual experience, and all knowledge of the experience of
other persons and other living organisms is indirect, depending
upon inference which becomes less and less reliable the greater
the interval, in experience and possibilities of experience, that
separates the psychologist from the living organism whose
behaviour he seeks to interpret. This weakness places
psychology in a very doubtful position, when compared with
the natural and physical sciences, and it must be conceded
that, where an objective explanation is possible and attainable,
and where it is at the same time adequate, it will always, and
rightly, have the preference. There is all the more reason in
this for the psychologist to assert the rights of his science in its
own proper field, if he puts forward any serious claim for the
recognition of psychology as a science.

The strength of the psychologist's position, we have said,
arises from the fact that he knows his subject matter directly,
as far as his own experience is concerned. On the one hand,
this fact implies a quite unique command over the organon
of interpretation which he employs. On the other hand, if
rightly regarded, this direct knowledge of experience entitles
the psychologist to assert the independence of his science, no
matter how far physiology may push its physical explanation.
His explanation is in terms of experience, in psychical terms,
and as such lies beyond the reach of any physical explanation.
For consider physiology as so advanced as to enable an individual

i] Introduction 5

to observe the physical processes taking place in his own brain,
which correspond to the experiences he is having1. Obviously
there will still be a psychical series as well as a physical series,
and the impossibility of the two series coinciding will be more
apparent than ever.

This might not be very significant for the ultimate scientific
explanation of things, were it not that the psychologist finds
in the psychical series important factors, which have, and can
have, no analogue in the physical series, as, for example, con-
scious purpose. It may be argued, therefore, that psychology
will always preserve biology from being swallowed up by
physiology. Further it must be maintained that it is the
duty of the psychologist, as of the physiologist in his case, to
push the psychical explanation as far as it will go, in the explana-
tion of behaviour not fully and adequately explained by the
physiologist in physical terms. This does not appear to have
been sufficiently emphasized in the past, but recent work in
biology, like that of Jennings2 in the study of the behaviour
of lower organisms, seems to indicate the possibility of an
increased recognition of the psychological explanation in the
future. In any case there is no mistaking the duty of the
psychologist as a psychologist.

This is a matter of such fundamental importance for
psychology as a science, that we may be excused for dwelling
on it for a little, and trying to see to what conclusions our
principle will lead us. With the development of the sciences
in question one of two ultimate conditions will come to prevail.
There are only the two alternatives. Either the physical
explanation of the physiologist will stop at a point, at which
the psychical explanation of the psychologist begins, the fields
being divided, as it were, by a knife-edge, and biology having,
as far as the behaviour of living organisms is concerned, no
longer an independent field, that is a field that has not been
invaded and subdued by either physiologist or psychologist;

1 Cf. Verworn's account of Du Bois Reymond's 'astronomical knowledge of
the brain' in Allgemeine Physiologie, p. 32, 1903.

2 See Contributions to the Study of the Behaviour of Lower Organisms. Carnegie
Institution of Washington, Publication No. 16. Also McDougall, Body and
Mind, chap. xix.

6 Introduction [CH.

or there will be intermediate between the points at which the
respective explanations stop a field of vital phenomena, which
will belong to the biologist as such by right of occupation, and,
by right of conquest, to neither physiologist nor psychologist.

If we consider, for example, the behaviour of living organisms,
so low in the scale as the protozoa and metazoa, we shall be able
to make this clearer. The physiologist had until quite recently
explained the behaviour of these organisms in physical terms
by the conception of 'tropism1.' Within the last ten years
almost conclusive evidence has been brought forward, that
tropism does not explain their behaviour. Accordingly Jennings,
by whom a great deal of valuable work has been done in this
field, now puts forward a conception of 'physiological state2.'
At the same time as he employs this conception and term, he
acknowledges that there may be a possible explanation in
psychological terms3. Here is then our point, in what might
be called its lowest terms. The psychological explanation of
the behaviour of these organisms must be attempted by the
psychologist, until it is shown to break down, or until it becomes
unnecessary. For the physiologist the object is still to interpret
the 'physiological state' in physical terms. Jennings, as
biologist, is concerned with this factor, in the conditions deter-
mining behaviour, simply as such, and, though his using the
term 'physiological state' seems to indicate a leaning towards
physiology rather than psychology for the ultimate explanation,
his concern is not so much with the ultimate explanation as
with the mode in which and the extent to which this factor
determines behaviour. For him it is simply a 'vital' phe-
nomenon.

The characteristic weakness of psychology must undoubtedly
give a preference to the physiological explanation, when one is
forthcoming, and that, even where a psychological explanation
seems to cover the facts more completely and adequately,
because of the inferential nature of the psychological explanation
along its whole course, if we may speak in that way, and the
many factors rendering such inference doubtful and difficult

1 See Jennings, Behaviour of Lower Organisms, Paper No. 4.

2 Jennings, Paper No. 5. 3 Jennings, Paper No. 7.

i] Introduction 7

under the particular circumstances. Nevertheless the psy-
chologist is justified in maintaining his psychical explanation,
until the whole mass of the phenomena in question, and every
detail, are explicable without it, that is to say, until there is
nothing left for the psychologist as such to explain.

Leaving biology out of account, let us see how the general
principle affects the relations of physiology and psychology.
A large and very influential group of psychologists at the
present day have virtually abandoned the standpoint of
psychology and adopted that of physiology, by conceding that
a really scientific explanation of experience, or of mental
process, in psychical terms is impossible, because the principle
of conservation of energy in the physical world and the necessity
imposed upon the physicist, of looking for a causal explanation
of a physical process in physical processes, excludes any
scientific explanation of behaviour except in physical terms.

" If I move my lips to say yes or no, it is a physical movement,
and the whole endless chain of its causes must have gone on in
the physical world. Thus the physicist, however far he may
be from the actual demonstration of the details, must postulate
that those lips were moved to a yes, because the brain processes
made it necessary, and these brain processes depended upon
the inborn disposition of the nervous system, and the trillions
of influences which have reached it since birth1."

This is of course true for the physicist, but how it is true
for the psychologist is not so clear. With the psychologist this
point of view leads either to epiphenomenalism or to some form
of the hypothesis of psycho- physical parallelism, which, when
we come to consider behaviour, must also become epiphenome-
nalism, if the whole causal explanation of the behaviour is to
be sought in preceding physical process.

Apart from the difficulties which the hypothesis of psycho-
physical parallelism involves2, it is, as a hypothesis, in the
extraordinary position of explaining nothing. The physiologist
naturally takes the view, that, if it amuses the psychologist to

1 Miinsterberg, Psychology and the Teacher, p. 104.

2 See James, Principles of Psychology, vol. i, chap, v, and more recently
Sturt, Principles of Understanding, chap, u, and McDougall, Body and Mind,
chaps, xi-xiv.

8 Introduction [CH.

dignify his study with the name of science, he is in the meantime
welcome to the amusement, but the processes he is studying
make, on his own confession, no difference to the facts, and can
have no bearing whatever, ultimately, on the scientific explana-
tion of animal behaviour. As we have seen this is in any case
the view which the physiologist as physiologist is bound to take,
at least until he has determined the limits beyond which it is
impossible for his explanation to carry him. The hypothesis
of psycho -physical parallelism is therefore nothing to the
physiologist. It is not his hypothesis ; it explains nothing for
him; he can and does ignore it. On the other hand, the
psychologist, so long as he restricts himself to the explanation
of behaviour in terms of experience and mental process, does
not require the hypothesis. It is only when he wishes to relate
his results to the results and the claims of the physiologist, that
the need arises for some hypothesis to express and explain this
relation. The hypothesis of psycho-physical parallelism ex-
presses this relation as an eternally incomprehensible mystery,
and explains it not at all.

The steps by which modern psychology has reached the
position, where such a hypothesis becomes possible, are more or
less clear. First of all an intellectualistic bias has caused
certain important aspects of experience to fall into the back-
ground. That rendered possible the mechanical psychology of
associationism. Then the experimental and objective methods
of the new experimental psychology, bringing physiologist and
psychologist together, as regards methods of approach to their
subject-matter, have also modified the view of the psychologist
regarding the nature of that subject-matter, until sensations,
images, memories, emotions have come to present themselves
as simply the psychical analogues of certain physiological pro-
cesses.

Not that the psychologist may not legitimately study the
processes in the nervous system, which are correlated with
experience, and which mediate between experience and be-
haviour. He will occupy every little hill of knowledge which
enables him to get a better view of his own field, but for him,
so far as he is psychologist, " everything has to be found by the

i] Introduction 9

direct method, and whatever is suspected from other discovery
must be verified by it1." McDougall from the physiological
side comes very near to the true point of view when he says2 :
"The physiological psychologist must recognize that all the
objective methods of psychological study presuppose the
results of the subjective or introspective method, and can only
be fruitful in so far as they are based upon an accurate intro-
spective analysis of mental processes. He must recognize too
that introspective psychology is in a much more advanced
condition than neurology."

This is very near the right point of view, but it is still the
point of view of the psychological physiologist rather than of
the psychologist as such. What requires to be emphasized is,
that the indirect explanation of experience in terms of nervous
structure and nervous process is no psychological explanation
at all, but a physiological one, and that all kinds of errors will
creep into psychology unless this fact is clearly recognized.
Not only do objective methods presuppose the introspective
method, but the results obtained by objective methods are
only valid for psychology, when, and in so far as, they can be
interpreted in terms of experience. The order of procedure is :
introspection, objective study, and then again introspection
for the psychological interpretation. What is, as such, in-
capable of being so interpreted belongs to physiology, not
psychology. There is thus a legitimate and an illegitimate
physiological psychology, and the hypothesis of psycho-
physical parallelism is the undoubted, the unmistakeable
offspring of the illegitimate. May we not regard it as at the
same time the reductio ad absurdum of such a physiological
psychology ?

There appears to be no necessity for psychology to take the
line of thought which leads to psycho-physical parallelism,
unless we are prepared to admit that psychology is essentially
a branch of physiology. It seems quite gratuitous to assume
that causation is a principle applying only to the physical3,

1 Mitchell, Structure and Growth of the Mind, p. 447.

2 McDougall, Physiological Psychology, p. 13.

3 See James, Principles of Psychology, vol. I, p. 136 f. for a powerful state-
ment on this point.

10 Introduction [CH.

that the conservation of physical energy is a necessary postulate
of psychologist, as of physiologist and physicist?, that experience
as dynamic cannot be studied scientifically, and that therefore
the psychologist must be content with the description of an
experience which is epiphenomenal, which is static, and which
is merely an abstraction from the reality of life. Are there no
effects, even in the physical world, which obstinately refuse
to be explained apart from human purpose and endeavour?
The mere asking of the question seems sufficient to refute a
mechanical psychology, developing from physiological psy-
chology, and resting on the hypothesis of psycho-physical
parallelism. It is impossible to discuss the psychology of
interest and motive, of emotion and volition, without the con-
viction being forced upon us that no physiological explanation
can ever explain these phenomena.

The James-Lange theory of the emotions, which might be
regarded as an approach to a physiological explanation in this
part of the field of experience, has been definitely rejected
even by leading physiologists1. Jennings' investigations of
the behaviour of lower organisms, already cited, show that the
physiological explanation is inadequate to explain behaviour
even in such cases. On the other hand, the physiologist must
admit that, so long as the psychologist restricts himself to the
direct explanation of experience, that is, in terms of experience,
there is no gap in his explanation where the work of the
physiologist becomes necessary to complete it, while the
physiological explanation of experience is far from complete,
and its gaps must be filled by the psychologist.

The general position is that the psychologist may sometimes
find the indirect explanation of experience in physiological
terms useful, just as he may sometimes find the indirect
explanation in biological terms useful, but the usefulness, in
both cases, is mainly in making clear the relation of experience
to behaviour, or of behaviour to experience, where it is not
a mere usefulness of analogy. But the psychologist, so far
as he is a psychologist, must rely upon, and stand by, his own
method, and his own explanation.

1 Sherrington, Integrative Action of the Nervous System, p. 256 ff.

i] Introduction 11

The relation of biology to psychology seems also in need of
being cleared up, but, in this case, the main difficulty arises
from the fact, that, as against the psychologist, the biologist
tends to think as a physiologist. So far as the results of
physiological or psychological investigation bear upon the
problems of the biologist, he will of course utilize the results
obtained by the other sciences, but his problems and his methods
are the problems and methods of neither physiology nor psy-
chology, and their results merely supplement his own analysis.
That is to say, where biological analysis leaves off in the study
of behaviour on the one side, physiological analysis begins,
where it leaves off on the other side psychological analysis
begins.

In what follows we shall not as a rule require to distinguish
the physiological account of Instinct from the biological, and
may call both biological. Since the biologist, like the physio-
logist, studies the behaviour of living organisms from the
objective point of view, the biological explanation is continuous
with the physiological, in a way in which it cannot be continuous
with the psychological. Hence the biologist always tends to
talk in physiological terms, rather than psychological, even
where he is dealing with phenomena, the physiological explana-
tion of which derives its whole meaning from the investigations
of the psychologist. This fact seems to make it still more
incumbent on the psychologist to assert the rights of the
psychical explanation, or at least to develop the psychical
explanation, instead of merely accepting the biological, seeing
that, in the present state of biological science, the scales are
so heavily weighted against psychology. He will, at any rate,
avoid a good deal of confusion by keeping the two accounts
separate.

We are still left with the relation of psychology to philosophy.
The general principle to be applied here is, that psychology is
no more concerned with the ultimate nature and meaning of
reality than is any other science. All that psychology is con-
cerned with, is the description and orderly arrangement, or
scientific explanation, of the facts of experience from the inner
or subjective side, and the relation of these facts of experience

12 Introduction [CH.

to the observed behaviour of living organisms, but not at all
with the ultimate meaning of these facts, or of experience, or
of life. The psychologist may find it necessary to frame
hypotheses, which go beyond the facts themselves, in order
to account for the facts psychologically. For example, the
psychologist may find it necessary to talk of a mind or soul
which experiences, in order to account for the facts of experience1.
With the ultimate nature of the mind or soul philosophy is of
course concerned, but the psychologist is concerned with the
soul merely as a conceptual synthesis of certain facts in the
field he studies. Or the psychologist may require some hypo-
thesis to cover the facts involved in psychical changes deter-
mining or apparently determining physical. Psycho-physical
parallelism is such a hypothesis. In so far as this is taken as
a statement of the real nature of a certain relation, it concerns
the philosopher, but for psychology it might be a mere con-
ceptual synthesis. That this particular hypothesis has no
value at all for psychology, and that any value it has must be
for philosophy, does not affect the argument in the least.
Psychology makes no statement regarding the ultimate nature
of the facts it studies, nor the ultimate reality expressed by
its hypotheses. Its aim is merely to bring scientific order into
a certain field of phenomena; its account and its hypotheses
are valid only for the facts they cover, and with reference to
the aim of the science itself.

On the other hand a philosophy, developed without regard
to the conclusions of psychology, or of the physical sciences,
and taking no account of their hypotheses, could hardly hope
to satisfy the human reason. For each science is the result of
the working of the human reason in a particular limited field,
and its validity within its own field cannot be- ignored by a
philosophy that claims validity in all fields. Thus the con-
clusions and the hypotheses of psychology, as of other sciences,
necessarily furnish problems for philosophy. Philosophy must
begin, as it were, where psychology leaves off.

1 E.g. McDougall in Body and Mind,

i] Introduction 13

DEFINITION OF INSTINCT.

The argument has hitherto been very general, but we now
come to its application. Is it possible to give a psychological
account of Instinct? The answer to this question will depend
on the meaning we assign to 'Instinct,' the way in which we
define it. The definition of Instinct has recently led to con-
siderable confusion in psychology, both animal and human.
Some writers, Rutgers Marshall1, Lloyd Morgan2, Stout3 among
others, would restrict the term to the objective, that is, generally,
the biological sense. Rutgers Marshall is especially emphatic.
"The word Instinct should properly be used in an objective
sense, and in an objective sense only." It is the tendency of
the clearest writers to avoid its use "with subjective connota-
tion." He finds it difficult to see how the word can be used
except in an objective sense4. Nearly all modern definitions
of Instinct are in objective terms, that is in terms of behaviour,
and many psychologists are content to accept this usage, but
whether they are justified in doing so is very questionable, as
we shall see presently. At the outset, then, we are apparently
faced with a definition of Instinct, which practically excludes
it from the universe of discourse of psychology.

There is, however, another side of the argument. In
general literature from Bacon5 to the present day, and in
popular speech, the word Instinct has had a subjective, though
undeniably somewhat vague, signification. Thus the subjective
and psychological sense of the word is by far the older, and,
in spite of what Rutgers Marshall says, the established sense
in our own and modern languages. Further it is true to the
root meaning. Now psychology has employed the word in
this sense, though again, it must be confessed, often rather
vaguely, since before Descartes. Lord Herbert of Cherbury,
in his De Veritate, published in 1624, in enumerating the human

1 Rutgers Marshall, Instinct and Reason, p. 85.

2 Lloyd Morgan, Instinct and Experience, p. 104 et passim.

3 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 243.

4 Instinct and Reason, loc. cit. See also Karl Groos, Die Spiele der Tiere,
English translation by E. Baldwin, p. 62.

5 "Man, upon the instinct of an advancement formal and essential, is carried
to seek an advancement local." Advancement of Learning, book n.

14 Introduction [CH.

faculties, begins with Instinctus Naturalis1. This Natural
Instinct has a double sense throughout Lord Herbert's work.
It is first of all the original source of the motive forces urging
towards self-preservation both animals and man, and urging
man also towards those things which will secure his happiness2.
In the second place it is the source of what he calls Notitiae
Communes, which are sacred principles, guaranteed by Nature
herself, possessing the six distinguishing characteristics of
priority, independence, universality, certainty, necessity, im-
mediacy3. Descartes' ' innate ideas' took the place of Lord
Herbert's 'notitiae communes,' and that part of the con-
notation of the word Instinct was only occasionally and
incidentally included by subsequent psychologists. But, as
we shall see later, nearly every psychologist since Descartes
has employed the word Instinct, and in a sense generally
corresponding to the first of Lord Herbert's senses.

Moreover, even the biologist has discovered that he cannot
define Instinct, for the purposes of biology, in purely objective
terms. He cannot define Instinct without introducing into the
definition psychological terms, and thus virtually conceding
that Instinct must have a psychological aspect and a psycho-
logical sense.

Thus Komanes holds that the only point, "wherein instinct
can be consistently separated from reflex action" is in regard
to its mental constituent, and he would define Instinct as
"mental action (whether in animals or human beings), directed
towards the accomplishing of adaptive movement antecedent
to individual experience, without necessary knowledge of the
relation between the means employed and the ends attained,
but similarly performed under the same appropriate circum-
stances by all the individuals of the same species4."

1 "Quod igitur in omnium est ore, tanquam verum accipimus, neque enim
sine Providentia ilia Universal! momenta actionum disponente fieri potest quod
ubique fit, denique, si quicquam intra nos Instinctus Naturalis potest. hoc
potest certe, qui cum in Elementis, plantis, irrationaliter, hoc est sine discursu,
operetur ; cur non in nobis idem praestiterit, praesertim in iis quae ad nostram
spectant conservationem ; cum in homine et plura desiderentur, et in illo
demum reliqua perficiantur animantia?" De Veritate, p. 3.

2 De Veritate, p. 81. 3 De Veritate, p. 76.
4 Romanes, Animal Intelligence, p. 15.

i] Introduction 15

Darwin1, while not attempting a definition of Instinct, finds
it necessary to speak of "mental actions" and frequently to
use terms descriptive of psychical phenomena in his descriptions
of instincts. He also uses the expression "instinct impels."
A. R. Wallace maintains2 that "much of the mystery of instinct
arises from the persistent refusal to recognize the agency of
imitation, memory, observation, and reason as often forming
part of it."

We may consider, therefore, that the psychologist is quite
within his rights in discussing Instinct. That even the biologist
is forced to concede. The next question is: how are we to
define Instinct for the purpose of psychological discussion?
The psychologist must preserve as far as possible the continuity
of psychological thought, and understand by Instinct what the
psychologists of the past have understood by it. Subject
to this condition, the psychologist of the present day never-
theless finds himself at a great advantage, as compared with
the older psychologists, on account of the data placed at his
disposal by the biologist. Two courses seem to be open to the
psychologist. He may take his departure from the notion of
conscious impulse, as G. H. Schneider, for example, does3, and
define Instinct as "conscious impulse towards actions tending
to the preservation of the individual or the maintenance of
the race without conscious foresight of the end, and prior to
individual experience of the means." Or he may make the
nature of the experience which accompanies instinctive be-
haviour his point of departure, and define Instinct in some such
terms as McDougall employs.

Of these alternatives the second seems the preferable one.
A psychology of Instinct, starting from the notion of conscious
impulse, is in serious difficulties at the very outset, and is
almost compelled to follow the biological account instead of
developing a psychological account. If, on the other hand, we
start from 'instinct experience,' we necessarily start with a

1 Darwin, Origin of Species, chap. vn. See also posthumous essay appended
to Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals.

2 A. R. Wallace, Darwinism, p. 442.

3 Schneider, Der menschliche Wille, p. 109: "Instinct ist das psychische
Streben nach Arterhaltung ohne Bewusstsein des Zweckes von diesem Streben."

Introduction [CH.

psychological account of this experience, and explain our
biological facts from the psychological point of view through-
out.

McDougall defines1 not Instinct but 'an instinct/ and he
defines this as "an inherited or innate psycho-physical dis-
position which determines its possessor to perceive, and to
pay attention to, objects of a certain class, to experience an
emotional excitement of a particular quality upon perceiving
such an object, and to act in regard to it in a particular manner,
or, at least, to experience an impulse to such action."

The inclusion in the definition of the notion of a 'psycho-
physical disposition' is of questionable value, and seems to
smack a- little of the old Faculty Psychology, or of Herbartianism.
Otherwise this is evidently the kind of definition from which
the psychologist must start. It is in psychological terms. It
attempts to characterize the kind of experience, which accom-
panies and underlies instinctive behaviour, finding it necessary
to describe this experience as involving cognitive, affective, and
conative elements. Whether McDougall's description of 'in-
stinct experience' is right or wrong, or partly right and partly
wrong, we shall proceed to enquire later. At any rate it is
a psychological definition, bringing Instinct into the psycho-
logical universe of discourse, and making a discussion of
Instinct by the psychologist possible. It is also, beyond
question, in line with the original sense, both popular and
psychological, of the word 'instinct' as a 'prompting from
within' arising from the natural constitution of men and
animals, and determining the behaviour of man or animal,
sometimes independently of what is popularly opposed to it,
and popularly called 'intelligence' or 'reason.'

There is, however, another definition of Instinct, which has
been largely employed in psychological works during the last
half -century, and which may be regarded as a definition intended
to satisfy both the biologist and the psychologist. In this case
Instinct is defined in objective terms, that is, in terms of action
or behaviour. James affords a simple example of this kind of
definition, when he defines Instinct as "the faculty of acting

1 McDougall, Social Psychology, p. 29.

i] Introduction 17

in such a way as to produce certain ends, without foresight of
the ends, and without previous education in the performance1."
A more complex definition of this kind is that given by Lloyd
Morgan. He defines instinctive behaviour — avoiding the
definition of Instinct itself altogether — as "comprising those
complex groups of coordinated acts, which, though they con-
tribute to experience, are, on their first occurrence, not deter-
mined by individual experience : which are adaptive and tend
to the well-being of the individual and the preservation of the
race ; which are due to the cooperation of external and internal
stimuli ; which are similarly performed by all members of the
same more or less restricted group of animals; but which are
subject to variation, and to subsequent modification under the
guidance of individual experience2."

We shall return later to a discussion of Lloyd Morgan's
views regarding the nature of Instinct and 'instinct experi-
ence,' as we find these expressed in his most recent works.
For the present we are merely concerned with this definition
as a possible definition for the psychologist to adopt. Lloyd
Morgan is by no means alone in discussing the psychology of
Instinct on this basis. Hobhouse, in an important discussion
of Instinct3, practically subscribes to his views4, and, while
regarding Instinct as simply "the response of inherited structure
to stimulus5," proceeds to a psychological discussion of in-
stinctive behaviour on lines, which are almost identical with
Lloyd Morgan's.

We may attempt to make a definition of Instinct which
will be acceptable to both biologist and psychologist, but the
result may be a definition satisfactory to neither, a definition
that can find a place in neither science as such. From the
biological point of view 'internal stimuli,' if that means more
than stimuli coming from within the physical organism, can
mean nothing. The clause ' though they contribute to experi-
ence' is equally meaningless. From the psychological point of

1 James, Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 383.

2 Art. ' Instinct ' in Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1 1th ed. The same definition
may be found elsewhere in Lloyd Morgan's works on Comparative Psychology.

3 Hobhouse, Mind in Evolution, chap. iv.

4 Op. cit., p. 46, footnote.
6 Op. cit., p. 53.

D. 2

18 Introduction [CH.

view, the definition merely mentions the fact that there are
psychological phenomena connected with the objective mani-
festations of instinctive behaviour, but makes no attempt to
specify the character of these psychological phenomena. The
definition might easily be made satisfactory to the biologist,
because it is mainly a definition in biological terms. But to the
psychologist it could never be made satisfactory, for it is a
definition which is essentially in objective terms, in terms of
behaviour as such, and no attempt whatever is made to describe
the experience which underlies that behaviour. To admit that
the behaviour is conscious is to admit that it comes within the
purview of the psychologist, to attempt to define it without
defining the nature of that consciousness is to give a definition
which, by no stretch of imagination can be called psychological.
The definition of Instinct given by Lloyd Morgan is an
example of a tendency which has recently appeared in psy-
chology to extend the limits of the science in such a way as to
cause it to lose its own identity. One direction in which this
tendency shows itself is the definition of psychology as "the
positive science of the behaviour of living things1." But to
define psychology in this way is hopelessly to confuse the
fields of physiology, psychology, and biology. It is essential
to specify the point of view from which psychology approaches
the study of the behaviour of living organisms. It is true that
practically we do study psychology in order to understand the
behaviour of animals, of other people, or of ourselves, the
ultimate controlling end being the modifying of our own be-
haviour or that of others in order to attain our ends. But it
is equally true that the mere study of behaviour would never
give us the insight into the meaning of behaviour that we
require. The fact is that, in order to understand behaviour as
we wish to understand it, we must interpret it in psychological
terms. We are able to do so, because we bring with us to the
observation of behaviour a psychological knowledge of the
experience underlying it, which is necessary for its interpre-
tation. This is the case, either when we are observing behaviour,
in order to verify psychological conclusions already reached, or

1 McDougall, Psychology, the Study of Behaviour, p. 19.

i] Introduction 19

psychological hypotheses, already provisionally formed, — for it
must be conceded that the behaviour of animals, and of other
persons, may become a secondary source of the data of psy-
chology— or when we are observing the behaviour of animals
or of other human beings in order to understand the experience
underlying the behaviour, and thus the behaviour itself, so that
we may have definite and sure guidance in our own actions
with respect to these others, animals or human beings as the
case may be.

The study of behaviour as behaviour, apart from this point
of view, can only result in an explanation in historical and de-
scriptive terms, and is undoubtedly the province of the biologist.
The psychologist takes as his province the study of experience, in
order that he may give an explanation of behaviour in terms of
experience, and by so doing understand it psychologically, and
put himself in a position to enable others also, if necessary, to
understand it psychologically. In the same way the physio-
logist takes as his province the study of the life processes in
nerve, muscle, and living tissue generally, in order that he in
turn may give a physiological explanation of these processes,
and understand behaviour physiologically. This is the con-
clusion to which we have already come.

But note the results which follow from a confusion of the
different points of view. Instinct is a biological phenomenon,
and we can give an account of Instinct in biological terms.
So long as our universe of discourse is biological such a definition
is quite in place. But Instinct is also a psychological phe-
nomenon, and presumably it may also be defined in psychological
terms. If we take Instinct, as biologically regarded and
described, over into the universe of discourse of psychology,
confusion is bound to arise. In psychology we describe and
explain phenomena of experience, and we talk of perception,
of interest, of intelligence, of reason, defining these in terms of
experience, and on the whole finding little difficulty in under-
standing the various phenomena subsumed under each, and
the modifications of behaviour produced by the various kinds
of experience so described. But there enters upon the scene
a biological dramatis persona, Instinct biologically defined. We

2-2

20 Introduction [CH. I

are nonplussed. Instinct refuses to enter into any relation
with perception, or interest, or intelligence, or reason. All
kinds of insoluble problems arise. We meet expressions like
"Instinct suffused with intelligence1," "intelligence arising
within the sphere of instinct2" in our psychological reading,
and can attach no definite psychological meaning to them.
They have no definite meaning. And all the trouble of this
sort has arisen because we are not consistently adhering to
one universe of discourse.

In the discussion that follows we shall understand Instinct
in some such sense as McDougall understands it, attempting
to reach a more definite position later, as regards the real
nature of 'instinct experience,' and to formulate a more
adequate definition. In the meantime, and provisionally, we
understand by Instinct an innate impelling force guiding
cognition, accompanied by interest or emotion, and at least
partly determining action. We are quite in agreement with
McDougalFs protest against using the term Instinct to denote
exclusively instinctive action3. At the same time that appears
quite consistent with his own definition of psychology. Natural
inclination or propensity would best express in a general way
the essential element in what we mean for the present to call
Instinct. Until we come to a clearer psychological under-
standing of Instinct, we may take natural inclination or
propensity as the topic under discussion.

In what follows we shall first of all trace the general
historical development of psychological views regarding Instinct
in this sense. In the second place we shall attempt to give
a satisfactory psychological account of the nature of Instinct.
Lastly we shall attempt to trace its relations to other elements
and aspects of experience, and more especially to some of the
more important phenomena of development and education.

1 Hobhouse, Mind in Evolution, p. 77.

2 Hobhouse, op. cit., p. 79.

3 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 253.

CHAPTER II

DESCRIPTIVE PSYCHOLOGY OF NATURAL INCLINATION
OR INSTINCT FROM HOBBES TO DUGALD STEWART

Three distinct influences may be traced in the psychology
of the present day: in the first place the influence of Locke,
Hume, and the Scottish school of philosophy, which, though
sometimes identified with Associationism, is really much wider,
in the second place the influence of German psychology, mainly
Kantian and post-Kantian, in the third place the influence of
modern physiology and biology. In considering the historical
development of modern views regarding Instinct, we shall find
it convenient to keep these lines of influence separate, and we
shall begin with the line of influence which is the most dis-
tinctively psychological, that through Hume and the Scottish
School.

The tendency of recent psychology to interpret the active
side of experience in terms which are essentially non-psycho-
logical has had for its counterpart, among those psychologists
who stood by the older introspective method, a tendency to
concentrate attention on the cognitive side of experience, and
either to ignore feeling, motive, and volition altogether, or to
attempt an interpretation of these in cognitive terms, with some
slight recognition of pleasure-pain, at any rate as hedonic tone.
The field of psychology was not always so circumscribed. The
older psychologists took the whole of human experience as they
found it, and, with such scientific procedure and method as their
philosophical leanings would permit, endeavoured to give some
account of the affective and active aspects of experience as,
and in terms of, affection and action. It is because they did
so, and because the measure of success which attended their

22 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

efforts was by no means negligible, that we find it profitable
to discuss, in connection with our present topic, the development
of introspective psychology prior to the raising of the various
evolution problems by modern biology.

A start may fittingly be made with the psychology of
Thomas Hobbes1, not because Hobbes was the first to give us
a psychology of feelings, emotions, and volitions, or of natural
inclinations and propensities, but rather because he sums up
to a considerable extent previous results, at the same time
making a relatively marked advance from the vagueness and
crudity of previous treatment.

Hobbes occupies in the psychology of natural propensities,
inclinations, and behaviour a position somewhat analogous to
that which Hume occupies in the psychology of perception.
"The main stream of English ethics begins with Hobbes and
the replies that Hobbes provoked2."

The stimulus under which Hobbes undertook a psychological
analysis of human nature may be found in the then current
conception of the Law of Nature, upon which, it was maintained
by writers like Grotius3, the whole structure of society and
civilization was based. According to Grotius, Natural Law "is
a part of divine law that follows necessarily from the essential
nature of man4." Hobbes attempted to discover what was the
essential nature of man. He found it necessary to deny that
man is naturally a social animal, and to assert the primacy of
man's egoistic tendencies. This became the great point at
issue between Hobbes and his critics, and led to the develop-
ment, in England and Scotland, of a descriptive psychology of
the active side of human nature.

What is for us the most interesting part of the psychology
is to be found mainly in the sixth and succeeding chapters of
the Leviathan5. The sixth chapter itself is devoted to a dis-
cussion "Of the Interiour Beginnings of Voluntary Motions,

1 1588-1679. The chief works of Hobbes germane to the present discussion
are: Human Nature (1650, 2nd ed. 1651), and Leviathan (1651).

2 Sidgwick, History of Ethics, p. 159.

3 1583-1645.

4 Sidgwick, op, cit., p. 161.

5 There are numerous editions. Our references by page will be to that
published in 'Everyman Library.'

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Ducjald Stewart 23

commonly called the Passions." What Hobbes calls ' voluntary '
or 'animal motion' is distinguished from 'vital motion' by the
fact that it is always determined by a preceding thought1.
Before the external phase of the movement itself, in walking,
speaking, striking, and the like, there is an internal phase which
he calls 'endeavour,' "the small beginnings of motion2." Of
'endeavour' there are two kinds, 'endeavour' towards, which
is appetite or desire, 'endeavour' fromwards which is aversion3.

Hobbes draws a distinction between appetites and aversions
which are innate, and appetites and aversions for particular
things which arise from experience4, but in his subsequent
discussion he does not attempt to develop this distinction.
Instead he proceeds to classify human emotions and sentiments
on the basis of the wider distinction between appetite and
aversion, and extracts the ethical distinction between good and
evil from the same psychological source5.

In the light of later thought three points in the discussion
are notable. In the first place Hobbes assigns similar inclina-
tions and emotions to animals. "The alternate succession,"
he says, "of appetites and aversions, hopes and fears, is no less
in other living creatures than in man6." In the second place
curiosity is assigned a peculiar position among emotions, since,
according to his view, it is "found in no other living creature
but man7," and "this singular passion" is, after reason, a
second mark distinguishing man from the lower animals. In
the third place he confuses in a very peculiar way pleasure and
pain which determine appetite and aversion with appetite and
aversion themselves. This confusion appears more particularly
in his Human Nature, where he defines pleasure as motion which
helps 'vital motion,' and pain as the reverse8, and concludes
that "since all delight is appetite... there can be no contentment
but in proceeding.... Felicity therefore, by which we mean
continual delight, consisteth not in having prospered, but in
prospering9."

The "cardinal doctrine in moral psychology10," which

1 Leviathan, p. 23. 2 p. 23. 3 p. 23. 4 p. 24.

5 p. 24. 6 p. 26. 7 p. 26.

8 Moles worth, The Etiglish Works of Thomas Hobbes, vol. iv, p. 31.

9 Molesworth, vol. iv, p 33. 10 Sidgwick, op. cit., p. 164.

24 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

Hobbes reaches as a result of his psychological analysis of
human nature, is that all man's desires are essentially directed
towards his own preservation and happiness, and what are
apparently unselfish emotions are analysed and explained in
terms of this self-regarding tendency. It was on the ground
of this psychological egoism that Hobbes was attacked later
by Shaftesbury, Butler, and Hutcheson but the attack was
made with weapons forged by a more acute psychologist than
any of them.

The rise of Cartesianism gave a great impulse to the develop-
ment of modern descriptive and analytic psychology. Though
the main tendency of this new psychology and philosophy was
to concentrate attention on the purely cognitive and intellectual
aspects of mind, culminating in what Schopenhauer has called
— and rightly from the psychological point of view — the "mad
sophistry of Hegel1," yet Descartes2 himself, and Malebranche
more particularly among his immediate followers, attempted
to give some account also of the feeling elements in human
nature, of man's natural inclinations, emotions, and passions.

Descartes' treatment of human inclinations and passions
must be regarded as a very subordinate part of his work, and
as not at all representing the real direction of his interests.
Nevertheless it is significant and suggestive. He starts with
the two principles, that the sole function of the mind is thought,
and that thoughts are of two kinds, 'actions of the soul' and
* passions.' The ' actions of the soul ' are our desires. ' Passions '
are "kinds of perception or forms of knowledge which are found
in us " ; the soul does not make them what they are, but receives
them "from the things which are represented by them3."

From this wide use of the word e passion ' Descartes immedi-
ately passes on to the narrower and more usual application.
The perceptions 'found in us' are again of two kinds, the one
kind being merely the perceptions of our desires, which appear
therefore as both actions and passions of the soul, the second

1 Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung. Trans, by Haldane and Kemp,
vol. n, p. 31.

2 1596-1650.

3 Passions of the Soul, part I, art. xvn. Translation by Haldane and Ross,
vol. i.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 25

kind having the body, not the soul, as their cause1. Among
the latter three kinds must be distinguished: (a) perceptions
which relate to objects without us, that is sensations2, (6) per-
ceptions which relate to our own body, such as "hunger, thirst,
and other natural appetites3," (c) perceptions which relate to
our soul itself, such as "the feelings of joy, anger, and other
such sensations, which are sometimes excited in us by the
objects which move our nerves, and sometimes also by other
causes4." These last are the passions, in the ordinary restricted
sense.

The account given of the passions is in the main physiological,
that is, in terms of movements of the 'animal spirits5.' But
Descartes attempts a classification of them in terms of the
"diverse ways in which they are significant for us6," distinguish-
ing six primary emotions, wonder, love, hatred, desire, joy, and
sadness, of which all the other emotions — and he describes
about forty — are modifications or combinations7. In several
notable passages, also, he emphasizes their function to "incline
and dispose the soul to desire the things for which they prepare
the body8." "The objects which move the senses do not
excite diverse passions in us, because of all the diversities which
are in them, but only because of the diverse ways in which they
may harm or help us, or in general be of some importance to
us; and the customary mode of action of all the passions
is simply this, that they dispose the soul to desire those
things, which Nature tells us are of use, and to persist in
this desire, and also bring about that same agitation of spirits,
which customarily causes them to dispose the body to the
movement which serves for the carrying into effect of these
things9."

This is really the closest approximation to a psychological
theory of Instinct that we find in Descartes. With his views

Art. xix.

Art. xxin.

Art. xxiv. Translations are generally by Haldane and Ross.

Art. xxv.

See arts. xxvu. xxx, XLVI, etc. Also Meditation VI.

Passions of the Soul, part I, art. xvn.

7 Op. cit., part II, art. LXIX.

8 Part i, art. XL. 9 Part n, art. LII.

26 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

regarding the relation of soul and body, and his apparent1
belief that animals are mere complex machines, we need not
feel surprise to find him stop at this point.

How are we to estimate this portion of the work of Descartes ?
A modern writer2 has said of Descartes' treatment of the
emotions that it is difficult "to find any treatment of the
emotions much superior to it in originality, thoroughness, and
suggestiveness." This is a remarkably high estimate, and
scarcely justified by the facts. In some respects Hobbes'
discussion of the emotions is more definite. Both Hobbes
and Descartes are considerably in the debt of previous writers.
But we do find in Descartes an interesting anticipation of the
James-Lange theory, a very clear recognition of the function
of the emotions, and connected with that some indications of
a theory with regard to the expression of the emotions. We
also find in Descartes, as in Hobbes, an early attempt at a
psychological classification of the emotions, but Descartes'
basis is wider than that of Hobbes. Lastly, though Descartes
does not apparently use the word 'Instinct' there is a quite
definite assertion of the part which Nature plays in deter-
mining the fundamental passions and desires of man, which
can be regarded as the germ of a theory of Instinct.

In our opinion, however, the greatest service rendered by
Descartes in this psychological field was the extent to which he
paved the way for Malebranche3, who gives us by far the best
discussion of natural tendencies, inclinations, and passions,
prior to the biological discussions of the nineteenth century,
and the biologico-psychological discussions of the twentieth.
Founding upon the psychology of Descartes, both of the
intellectual processes and of the feelings and inclinations,
Malebranche carries us far beyond that psychology in the latter
field. Again and again he surprises by his knowledge of human
nature, and his acute analysis of the various factors on the
emotional and active side. To remember him only as a
Cartesian is to remember him for what is probably the less

1 It is not very certain what the real views of Descartes were in this con-
nection. Note the words "nor perhaps any thought" in art. L, of part I.

2 Irons, quoted by Ribot in Psychology of the Emotions, p. Ill, footnote.

3 1638-1715.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 27

important and less valuable part of his work. As a psychologist
of human tendencies and emotions he takes exceedingly high
rank.

Malebranche follows Descartes in the general lines of his
psychology as of his philosophy. Understanding is opposed to
Will, while sense, imagination, and the pure understanding are
distinguished on the cognitive side of mental life, and inclina-
tions and passions on the active side. Understanding and the
inclinations are further considered as belonging to the mind as
such, while the others belong to the mind only when and because
it is united with a body.

In his chief philosophical work, De la Recherche de la Verite1
Malebranche uses the word ' Instinct ' with moderate frequency,
but can hardly be considered as using it in an exact and definite
sense. Sometimes it means for him 'natural inclination' or
propensity; at other times it appears to mean some kind of
innate knowledge, ' connaissance d' instinct2.' Thus he says:
"Pleasure is an instinct of nature, or to speak more precisely
it is an impression of God himself, who inclines us towards
some good3." Again, we are obeying God's voice, when we
yield to "the instinct of nature, which moves us to the satisfying
of our senses and our passions4." God "moves us to the good of
the body only by instinct5." On the other hand we find him
asserting that we are persuaded by "the instinct of sensation"
that our souls are united to our bodies, 'instinct of sensation'
being in this passage opposed to 'light of reason6.' He also
points out that God in his grace has added ' instinct ' to ' illumina-
tion7.'

Book iv, in which the natural inclinations are discussed,

1 First published in 1674. As there is not, so far as we are aware, any
modern English version of the Recherche — there are contemporary English
versions by Sault and by Taylor — our references will always be to the text
itself (Gamier ed.).

2 p. 511.

3 p. 43. "Le plaisir est un instinct de la nature, ou pour parler plus claire-
ment, c'est une impression de Dieu meme, qui nous incline vers quelque bien."

4 p. 499. " C'est obeir a sa voix que de se rendre a cet instinct de la nature,
qui nous porte a satisfaire nos sens et nos passions."

5 p. 500. "II nous porte au bien du corps seulement par instinct."

6 p. 509. "C'est par 1' instinct du sentiment que je suis persuade que mon
ame est unie a mon corps, ou que mon corps fait partie de mon etre; je n'en
ai point d' evidence." 7 p. 511.

28 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

strange to say, does not afford us a single instance of the use
of the word 'instinct.' It opens with the thesis that the
understanding receives its directions from the will, and that
the mind must have inclinations, just as bodies have motions.
Further the essential principle of all natural inclinations, and
therefore of all will, is that they are directed towards 'good in
general1.' At the same time, he says, we must recognize that
there are also natural inclinations towards particular goods.

Malebranche's psychological classification of the natural
tendencies and the emotions commences with his division of
the natural inclinations into three groups. The first group is
of those inclinations included in, or derived from, the inclination
towards 'good in general.' In this group is classified curiosity
or the inclination towards novelty, which he derives from the
inclination towards good in general. Curiosity is the vain
striving of imperfect humanity to satisfy an inclination, which
the circumstances in which man is placed make it impossible
to satisfy. The second group comprises the inclinations towards
particular goods which have to do with our own preservation
and welfare, i.e. self -regarding tendencies. In the third group
we have the inclinations towards particular goods which have
to do with the welfare of others, i.e. the social tendencies.

The most important part of the fourth book is probably the
discussion of the principal natural inclinations in the second
group, included by Malebranche under self-love2, that is 'love
of greatness' and 'love of pleasure.' Taking the discussion of
the 'love of greatness' in the fourth book along with the dis-
cussion of the ' contagion of the imagination3 ' in the third part
of the second book, we get a very interesting and very complete
psychological study of what, following Bibot and McDougall,
we now call the 'self-feelings,' together with associated phe-
nomena, more especially those dependent upon suggestibility
and imitation.

Whatever tends to make us superior to others, such as
learning, or virtue, or honours, or riches, "seems to make us
in a certain way independent. All those that are our inferiors

1 "Le bien en general." 2 " L' amour pro pre."

3 "Communication contagieuse des imaginations fortes."

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Steivart 29

reverence and fear us, are always prepared to execute what
we please for our welfare, and are afraid of offending us or
resisting our desires1."

Moreover, men desire not only to possess learning or riches,
but also to have the reputation of possessing them. For it is
the reputation of being rich, learned, virtuous, that "produces
in the imagination of those around us, or those with whom we
come into closest contact, a disposition very advantageous to
us." It "prostrates them at our feet," and "inspires them
with all the motions that tend to the preservation of our being,
and the augmentation of our greatness2."

Closely associated with these phenomena of ' self-feeling ' are
the phenomena of 'contagion of the imagination,' that is, the
phenomena we classify under the heads of imitation and
suggestibility. This 'contagion of the imagination,' Male-
branche says, is best seen in children with respect to their
parents, in servants with respect to their masters and mistresses,
or in courtiers with respect to their princes and kings, and it
is shown generally in all inferiors with respect to their superiors3.

Malebranche illustrates by taking the case of courtiers and
kings, but most of the phenomena he cites are quite general.
The religion of a prince makes the religion, the reason of a
prince the reason of his subjects, and especially his courtiers.
Hence "the sentiments of a prince, his passions, his sports, his
words, and generally everything he does, will be in fashion."
When the tyrant Dionysius applied himself to the study of
geometry, on Plato's arrival in Syracuse, according to Plutarch
geometry immediately became the study of the whole court,

1 Book iv, chap. vi. p. 403. "Toutes les choses, qui nous donnent une
certaine elevation au-dessus des autres, en nous rendant plus parfaits, comme
la science et la vertu, ou bien qui nous donnent quelque autorite sur eux, en
nous rendant plus puissants, coinme les dignites et les richesses, semblent nous
rendre en quelque sorte independants. Tous ceux qui sont au-dessous de nous,
nous reverent et nous craignent, ils sont to uj ours prets a faire ce qui nous plait
pour notre conservation, et ils n'osent nous nuire ni nous resister dans nos
desirs."

2 Book iv, chap, vi, p. 404. "La reputation d'etre riche. savant, vertueux,
produit dans 1' imagination de ceux qui nous environnent, ou qui nous touchent
de plus pres, des dispositions tres commodes pour nous. Elle les abat a nos
pieds : elle les agite en notre favour : elle leur inspire tous les mouvements qui
tendent a la conservation de notre etre, et a 1'augmentation de notre grandeur ."

3 Book n, part in, chap. n.

30 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

and the king's palace was filled with dust owing to the drawing
of figures in it1.

As regards children, their imitativeness and suggestibility
are heightened by the narrowness of their experience, and the
influence of their parents' example increased by mutual affection.
The parents' sentiments and opinions are to the child the only
principles of virtue and reason. Hence "the boy walks, and
talks, and carries himself in the same way as his father, the girl
imitates her mother in gait, discourse, and dress. If the mother
lisps, her daughter lisps also ; if the mother has any ' odd fling
with the head,' the daughter shows the same ; in short children
imitate their parents in everything, even in bodily defects, face,
and expression, as well as in their errors and vices2."

Finally, to complete his treatment of suggestion, Malebranche
points out that suggestion may arise from other circumstances,
in addition to the prestige of the source, as, for example, the
manner in which, or the degree of conviction with which, any
statement is made. Later he adds as an additional factor
public opinion. "We live by opinion; we esteem and love
what is esteemed and loved in the world3."

The second aspect of self-love is the 'love of pleasure.'
Malebranche is quite conscious of the difficulties involved in
this part of his treatment, and makes a strenuous effort, not
without some success, to overcome these difficulties. The
general principle he applies is one laid down in his first book:
"Le plaisir et la douleur sont les caracteres naturels et incon-
testables du bien et du mal4." This he interprets in the fourth
book, pointing out that, though pleasure is "a good, and
actually makes the enjoy er happy while and so long as he
enjoys it," yet, after all, it is "but the seasoning whereby the

1 Book n, part in, p. 245. "Si Denis le Tyran s' applique a la geometrie
a 1'arrivee de Platon dans Syracuse, la geometrie devient aussitot a la mode,
et le palais de ce roi, dit Plutarque, se remplit incontinent de poussiere par le
grand nombre de ceux qui tracent des figures."

2 Book n, part m, p. 242. " Un jeune garyon marche, parle, et fait les memes
gestes que son pere. Une fille de meme s'habille comme sa mere, marche
comme elle, parle comme elle ; si sa mere grasseye, la fille grasseye ; si la mere
a quelque tour de tete irregulier, la fille le prend. Enfin les enfants imitent
les parents en toutes choses, j usque dans leurs defauts et dans leurs grimaces,
aussi bien que dans leurs erreurs et dans leurs vices."

3 p. 280.

* Book i, chap, v, p. 46.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 31

soul relishes her good1." That is to say, God has attached
pleasure to certain objects, which man ought to seek, and pain
to other objects, which he ought to avoid, in the interests
of self-preservation. Both pleasure and pain are positive;
pleasure is not the mere absence of pain, nor is pain the mere
absence of pleasure2. But they must not, on the other hand,
be regarded as the real object of the natural inclination, but
rather as attached to it. The chief difficulties and incon-
sistencies, that arise on this theory, Malebranche attributes to
the results of the Fall.

After discussing the two natural inclinations, curiosity and
self-love, or rather the two groups of natural inclinations falling
under these heads, Malebranche passes on to a discussion of the
third group, natural inclinations tending towards the welfare
and preservation of other creatures. He points out that the
various inclinations of this group are always accompanied by
passions, and must therefore come up later for consideration
in that connection. The most notable part of this preliminary
discussion is the very clear recognition of that tendency which
McDougall has called 'primitive passive sympathy.'

We rejoice, he says, in the joy of others, we suffer by the
evils that befall them. The rise or fall of beings of the same
species as ourselves seems to augment or diminish our own being,
and all the more so, if they are our friends, or nearly related to
us3. Then comes a remarkable passage4. "Upon the sense of
some sudden surprising evil," which he finds too strong for him,
a man raises a cry for help. This cry "forced out involuntarily
by the disposition of the machine," falls on the ears of those
near enough to render assistance. " It pierces them and makes
them understand it, let them be of what quality or nation

1 Book iv, p. 377. "Car c'est par le plaisir que 1'ame goute son bien."

2 Book v, chap, m, p. 483.

3 Book iv, chap, xm, p. 459.

4 p. 461. "A la vue de quelque mal qui surprend, ou que Ton sent comme
insurmontable par ses propres forces, on jette, par exemple, un grand cri; ce
cri pousse souvent sans qu'on y pense, et par la disposition de la machine, entre
infailliblement dans les oreilles de ceux qui sont assez proches pour donner le
secours dont on a besoin ; il les peiietre ce cri, et se fait entendre a eux, de quelque
nation et de quelque qualite qu'ils soient ; car ce cri est de toutes les langues,
et de toutes les conditions, comme en eff et il en doit etre ; il agite le cerveau et
change en un moment toute la disposition du corps de ceux qui en sont frappes,
il les fait meme courir au secours sans qu'ils y pensent."

32 Descriptive Psyclwlogy of Natural Inclination [CH.

soever." It is "a cry of all nations and all conditions," and it
stirs with emotion all those who hear it, and makes them
involuntarily rush to give help.

This communication of the emotions through sympathy is
also described, and alluded to, in several passages in book v.
Thus, in the third chapter, we read that, if a man's own strength
appears insufficient to meet a certain situation, he "mechanic-
ally" utters certain words and cries, "and there is diffused over
the face, and the rest of the body, such an air and expression as
is capable of actuating others with the same passion, he himself
is possessed with1." In the seventh chapter of the same book,
where he is treating of wonder or admiration, Malebranche
makes the very clear statement, that all the passions have their
own appropriate expressive signs, which "mechanically" over-
spread the countenance, and "mechanically" inspire others
with the same emotions2. This is true also of wonder or
admiration, which produces on our face an expression that
"mechanically" arouses in others the same emotion, and causes
their faces to take on precisely the same expression3.

This description of the phenomena of 'primitive passive
sympathy' is very notable. Equally notable is Malebranche' s
clear recognition of the social significance of these phenomena.
Subsequent ethical writers laid great stress on sympathy, but
none of them has given so clear and so adequate a psychological
account of it as Malebranche. There is yet another interesting
point in this chapter on wonder or admiration. After referring
to admiration some of the phenomena we now refer rather to
the original self tendencies, Malebranche indicates a theory of
play, which to some extent anticipates the theory of Karl
Groos. The Author of nature "regulates the phenomena of

1 p. 484. "Que si les forces de 1'homme ne lui suffisent pas dans le beisoin
qu'il en a, ces memes esprits sont distribues de telle maniere, qu'ils lui font
proferer machinalement certaines paroles et certains cris. et qu'ils repandent
sur son visage et sur le reste de son corps, un certain air capable d'agiter les
autres de la meme passion dont il est emu."

2 p. 525. "Toutes les passions... repandent machinalement sur le visage
...un air qui, par son impression, dispose machinalement tous ceux qui le
voient a ces passions."

3 p. 525. " L' admiration meme. . .produit sur notre visage un air qui imprime
machinalement 1' admiration dans les autres ; et qui agit meme sur leur cerveau
d'une maniere si bien reglce, que les esprits qui y sont contenus, sont pousses
dans les muscles de leur visage pour y former un air tout semblable au notre."

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 33

the soul with reference to the good of the body, and causes
the young to be delighted with such exercises as invigorate
the body. Thus, while the flesh and fibres of their nerves are
yet soft, the channels, through which the animal spirits must
necessarily flow to produce all sorts of motions, are worn and
kept open1."

At the outset of his discussion of the passions or emotions
in the fifth book, Malebranche makes clear the relation of these
to the inclinations. Emotions are due, he says, following
Descartes, to the fact that the soul is joined to a body, and they
arise from the motions of the blood and animal spirits2. Never-
theless they are inseparable from the inclinations. Just as the
essential principle of the inclinations is the love of good in
general, so the essential principle of all the emotions is that
they incline us "to love our own body and what is useful for
its preservation3." One of the laws of the union of soul and
body is that all inclinations of the soul should be accompanied
by emotions. From this it follows, the principle just mentioned
notwithstanding, that "we are united by our passions to what-
ever seems to be the good or evil of the mind, as well as to what
we take for the good or evil of the body4." Interest is deter-
mined by all the passions, that is, they tend to make us apply
our minds to objects, although this seems more particularly the
function of ' admiration ' or wonder, which stimulates the desire
for knowledge and truth.

Though natural inclinations and passions are common to
all men, yet they vary in strength in different individuals.
There is also variety in the objects to which emotions attach
themselves in different individuals. This is true both in regard
to natural inclinations referring to the mind alone, and in regard
to those referring to the body, as well as in regard to general
passions. In particular passions there is an infinite variety,

1 p. 530. "Cette disposition (qui excite a la chasse, a la danse, etc.) est
fort ordinaire aux jeunes gens....Dieu, qui, comme Auteur de la nature, regie
les plaisirs de 1'ame par rapport au bien du corps, leur fait trouver du plaisir
dans 1'exercice, afin que leur corps se fortifie. Ainsi dans le temps que les
chairs et les fibres des nerf s sont encore molles, les chemins par lesquels il est
necessaire que les esprits animaux s'ecoulent pour produire toutes sortes de
mouvements, se tracent et se conservent."

2 Cf. Descartes, Lange, James, Ribot.

3 p. 471. 4 p. 481.

D. 3

34 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

according to the relations that different objects may have to
different individuals.

All emotions, apart from admiration, have seven character-
istic marks1 :

1. A 'judgment' of the mind concerning some object.

2. A determination of the will, towards the object, if it
appears good, away from it, if it appears evil.

3. The characteristic feeling2 which attends the emotions,
the primary feelings being love, hatred, desire, joy, sorrow.

4. Changes in the course of "the blood and animal spirits"
of such a nature as to dispose the body in a way "suitable to
the ruling passion."

5. A "sensible commotion of the soul," by which the soul
participates in what affects the body.

6. Secondary feelings3 of love, hatred, joy, desire, sorrow,
arising from the "concussion caused in the brain by the animal
spirits."

7. An internal satisfaction "which detains the soul in her
passion," and which attends all the passions whatsoever and
makes them pleasant, arising from the feeling that we are "in
the best state we can be in reference to those things we perceive
by our senses."

This summarizes practically the whole of Malebranche's
theory of the emotions. He illustrates the various points by
hatred, and, in discussing hatred, makes some other points
clear. In the first place, he asserts, that the difference between
hatred and love, is not in the motion of the will, which in both
cases is towards good, but in the feelings, determined by these
motions of the will. The 'motions of the will' are natural
causes of the "sentiments de Fesprit," and these in turn main-
tain the 'motions of the will.' All this might happen, though
a man had not a body. In the second place, the organic
effects produced are such as tend to the satisfaction of the
inclination, that is, the realization of its end, and they in turn
cause also in the mind the characteristic 'sentiments,' thus
intensifying the primary 'sentiments,' and adapting them more
particularly to the circumstances of the case.

1 Book v, chap, in, p. 482. 2 "sentiments." 3 "sentiment de la passion."

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 35

The remainder of Malebranche's treatment of the emotions
can be very briefly indicated. He goes on to consider in detail
the individual emotions. The 'mother passions' are love and
hate. These produce the 'general passions' desire, joy, and
sorrow. All the other emotions are made up of these, more
or less compounded and modified by circumstances, with the
exception of admiration and the secondary emotions developed
from it. Admiration is called an 'imperfect passion/ because
it is not excited by either the idea or the sense of the good, but
only by the novel. Its derived emotions are esteem, veneration,
contempt, and disdain, according as the admired thing appears
great or small, pride, haughtiness, valour, humility, timidity,
and so on, when the object is ourselves or our own qualities.
The whole classification is elaborate and interesting, but it
contains little that is really new, little that is very different
from the psychology of Descartes.

The really memorable part of Malebranche's work is his
description of the phenomena we group under sympathy,
imitation, and suggestibility, his assertion of the relation of
the emotions to the natural inclinations on the one hand, and
to organic resonance on the other, and his classification and
analysis of natural inclinations in the three groups, curiosity,
self-regard, social tendencies. But altogether his contribution
to psychology is of the first importance.

Except for his somewhat elaborate descriptive psychology
of the emotions, Spinoza1 did not contribute very much to
the development of the psychology of the instincts or natural
inclinations of man. Strictly speaking, the notion of instinct
or natural inclination has no place in his system of thought.
All the elements of experience are for him cognitive elements.
He understands by will "the faculty of affirming and denying,"
not the desire "by which the mind takes a liking or an aversion
to anything2." "There is in the mind no volition... except that
which the idea, in so far as it is an idea, involves3." "Will and
intellect are one and the same thing4."

1 1632-1677.

2 Ethics, book n, prop. XLVIII, note.

3 Book n, prop. XLIX. 4 Book n, prop. XLIX, Cor.

3—2

36 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

In view of such explicit statements, one finds it very
difficult to understand how Spinoza can ever make the tran-
sition from knowing to acting, how he can ever give any
psychological account of emotions and desires, save as 'in-
adequate ideas.' But for the introduction of a notion quite
inconsistent with the idea of mathematical necessity, upon
which his whole system is based, he could not have made the
transition. That notion is the notion of 'conatus,' which first
appears in the proposition: "Everything endeavours so far as
it can to persist in its own being1." Later we find that the
mind is also conscious of this 'conatus2/ and, when it "has
reference to the mind alone," 'conatus' is identified with will,
when "it refers at one and the same time to mind and body,"
with appetite, and appetite operating consciously is desire3.

Martineau points out that this 'conatus' is in its origin
simply the Cartesian law of inertia. "This rule of physical
inertia Spinoza had first made to do further duty as the
principle of life, and now recognizes again in all the propensions
and emotions of the mind4." The significance of this 'conatus'
really lies in the fact that it shows the utter breakdown of a
mechanical explanation of human experience, not merely the
breakdown of a cognitive explanation. A further point of
interest is its relation to the activity of the Leibnizian monads.

For the present we can consider this 'conatus' of Spinoza
as corresponding to the 'instinct' of Malebranche. But 'cona-
tus ' is so obviously out of place in Spinoza's whole system of
thought, that he employs the notion only when he cannot
get on without it. In his discussion of the emotions he gets
back to the cognitive as soon as he can, and as far as he can.
The 'conatus' determines desire, and pleasure and pain, or joy
and sorrow — his words are laetitia and tristitia — are, as it were,
the guides of desire, in order to secure the end of self-conser-
vation. These three — desire, joy, sorrow — are the primary
feelings or emotions ; all the other emotions are secondary
modifications or combinations of these.

1 Ethics, Book in, prop. vi. 2 Book in, prop. ix.

3 Book in, prop, ix, note.

4 Martineau. A Study of Spinoza, p. 237.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 37

Sympathy, or imitatio affectuum, is made to play a con-
siderable part among the emotions, as later in Adam Smith,
and the account given of sympathy also to some extent
resembles Adam Smith's1. "By the fact that we imagine
a thing, which is like ourselves, and which we have not re-
garded with any emotion, to be affected with any emotion,
we also are affected with a like emotion2." This is McDougall's
'primitive passive sympathy,' but with Spinoza it is not, as
with Malebranche, an immediate reaction on perception of the
signs of an emotion, but apparently a secondary or derived
emotion, though not to the same extent, as with Adam Smith.

It is interesting to find that McDougall's ' active sympathy'
is also recognized by Spinoza. "Every one endeavours as
much as he can to cause every one to love what he himself
loves, and hate what he himself hates3."

There is one other point worthy of note in Spinoza's treat-
ment of the emotions. That is his application of what has been
called the 'law of transference,' traces of which are also to be
found in Malebranche. This may be, and was later, regarded
as a case of 'association of ideas4.' With Spinoza it is made
to explain cases where objects, originally indifferent, come to
stimulate emotions, and, therefore, also the development of
what, following Shand5, we now call sentiments. "From the
fact alone that we imagine anything, which has something
similar to an object, which is wont to affect the mind with
pleasure or pain, although that in which the thing is similar
to the object be not the effecting cause of those emotions,
nevertheless we shall hate or love it accordingly6."

The 'subjective note' with which modern philosophy opens
in Descartes, "cogito ergo sum," has often been emphasized7.
With the subjective character of the note psychology has less
quarrel than with its intellectualism. Reid's name "the ideal
system" or the "theory of ideas" is singularly appropriate for

Theory of Moral Sentiments, 2 Book in, prop. XXVH.

Book in, prop, xxxi, Cor.

Cf. Ribot, Psychology of the Emotions, part I, chap. xn.

Stout, Groundwork of Psychology, chap. xvii.

Book in, prop. xvi. See also props, xiv, xv, xvn.

Seth. Scottish Philosophy, p. 19.

38 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

the Cartesian philosophy and its later developments. The
character which justifies the name becomes specially evident
in Locke, and, through Locke, has biassed practically all sub-
sequent philosophy and psychology. Philosophy as a theory
of knowing, psychology as an account of 'impressions' and
'ideas' have wellnigh held the whole field since Locke.

We say 'wellnigh' rather than 'entirely.' For the ethical
empiricism, arising in this country after Locke, to some extent
the Scottish school of philosophical thought, Rousseau, Schopen-
hauer, and a few others among Continental thinkers, continued
the other aspect of psychological enquiries down to our own
time, when a new interest has been stimulated by the results
of biological and sociological investigations. The line of
psychological development, which specially derives from
Malebranche, rather than Descartes, has been hitherto largely
ignored, except in so far as it has had a bearing on ethical
theory. Nevertheless, from the purely psychological point of
view, it is of great importance, and the future of philosophical
thought proper may yet acknowledge its importance from the
general philosophical point of view.

From our present point of view Locke1 is of comparatively
minor significance. Malebranche's psychology was really con-
tinued in the psychological enquiries of the English empiricists,
who set themselves to answer the egoism of Hobbes in the
ethical sphere, and more particularly in Shaftesbury2, Butler3,
and Hutcheson4. The main ethical contention of all was that
altruistic tendencies are as 'natural' as egoistic. Shaftesbury
appears to accept the contention that our ends are always
pleasures or the avoidance of pains5, but Butler traverses this
view, and maintains that pleasure is merely the result which
follows from natural tendencies attaining their natural ends6.
All these writers recognize 'instinct' in the sense in which we
found it recognized by Malebranche, but the most elaborate
and significant development of the psychology of Instinct was
made by Hutcheson, and we shall here confine ourselves to the
discussion of his views.

1 1632-1704. 2 1671-1713. 3 1692-1752. 4 1694-1747.

6 See An Enquiry concerning Virtue or Merit, book 11, part n.
6 See Sermon, xi. Also Sidgwick, History of Ethics, p. 192.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Duyald Stewart 39

To Hutcheson we owe first of all a clear statement regarding
the nature of Instinct, and a clear recognition of its place in
human experience and conduct. "We may further observe
something in our nature," he says, "determining us very
frequently to action, distinct from both sensation and desire,
if by desire we mean a distinct inclination to something appre-
hended as good, either public or private, or as the means of
avoiding evil, viz. a certain propensity of Instinct to objects
and actions, without any conception of them as good, or as the

means of preventing evil Thus in anger, beside the intention

of removing the uneasy sensation from the injury received;
beside the desire of obtaining a reparation of it and security
for the future, which are some sort of Goods, intended by men
when they are calm, as well as during the passion, there is in
the passionate person a propensity to occasion misery to the
offended, even when there is no intention of any good to be
obtained, or evil avoided, by this violence. And 'tis principally
this propensity which we denote by the name Anger.... This
part of our constitution is as intelligible as many others uni-
versally observed and acknowledged ; such as these, that danger
of falling makes us stretch out our hands ; noise makes us wink ;
that a child is determined to suck ; many other animals to rise
up and walk ; some to run into water, before they can have any
notion of good to be obtained or evil avoided by these means1."

We find that Hutcheson places Fear in the same category
with Anger. He also recognizes what we call the gregarious
instinct as of the same order, but he enumerates it among
the 'appetites2.' He makes an attempt to distinguish between
'Instinct,' 'Affection,' and 'Passion,' though the distinction
is not consistently adhered to. The fundamental difference
between Instinct (natural propensity) and Affection appears
to be that the latter involves desire for a good, the former
only 'uneasy sensations,' the latter is subsequent, the former
prior to experience. Violent mental disturbance is the mark
of the Passion, and that may arise in the case of both Instinct
and Affection. In spite of this distinction, however, he often

1 Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions, section nr.

2 Nature and Conduct of the Passions, section iv.

40 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

confuses Affection and Instinct, sometimes using the words as
if they were synonymous. " In the calmest temper there must
remain affections or desire, some implanted instinct for which
we can give no reason; otherwise there could be no action of
any kind1."

Hutcheson also discusses the function of the instincts in
determining conduct, and their relation to Reason. His general
position is that " though we have instincts determining us to
desire ends, without supposing any previous reasoning, yet
'tis by the use of our reason that we find out the means of
attaining our ends2." Reason itself can never determine any
end. "No reason can excite to action previously to some end,
and no end can be proposed without some instinct or affection3."

The more systematic portion of Hutcheson's psychology is
associated with his classification of the 'natural powers' of the
human mind. These he arranges in six classes : (a) the external
senses, (6) the 'internal sense,' which determines the pleasures
arising from the perception of "regular, harmonious, uniform
objects, as also from grandeur and novelty," (c) the 'public
sense,' which determines us "to be pleased with the happiness
of others and to be uneasy at their misery," (d) the 'moral
sense,' which determines the perception of virtue and vice in
ourselves or others, (e) the 'sense of honour,' which makes us
pleased at the approbation of others and ashamed at their
condemnation, (/) the sense of the ridiculous. Desires and
aversions fall into similar classes4.

It is in connection with the ' public sense ' that he explicitly
recognizes the appetite which corresponds to our gregarious
instinct, and which he calls "desire for company." This
appetite, in the absence of company, determines a " fretfulness,
sullenness, and discontent," and it also apparently underlies
"benevolence and compassion," for these, he says, "presuppose
some such knowledge of other sensitive beings5."

Hutcheson goes on to define objects as good or evil according

1 Illustration* upon the Moral Sense, section v.

2 Op. cit., section I.

3 Op. cit., section v.

4 Nature and Conduct of the Passions, section i.
6 Op. cit., section iv.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 41

as they cause or occasion, directly or indirectly, "grateful or
ungrateful perceptions." Desires and aversions are determined
by apprehended good and evil in this sense. They may be
distinguished as primary or secondary, according as they are
directed towards ends determined by 'natural propensities' or
affections, or towards ends which merely serve as means for
the attaining of primary ends. In the second category he would
place such desires as the desire for wealth and power, and he
employs the doctrine of 'association of ideas' to show how
various particular secondary desires can arise from original or
primary desires.

His distinction between calm and violent desires, which was
later adopted by Hume, is possibly valuable for his ethics, but
is not very significant for his psychology. His further division
of desires into selfish and 'public' or benevolent leads him to
a discussion of sympathy, which, after Malebranche's, is very
disappointing.

Finally, though the distinction is somewhat obscured by
his opening distinction between good and evil, Hutcheson, like
Butler, carefully points out that desire is normally desire of an
object, not of the pleasure or satisfaction to be obtained thereby.
Desire, he says, is generally accompanied by an uneasy sen-
sation, but the desire is not a desire simply to remove the
uneasiness. Further there is a pleasant sensation attending the
gratification of desire, in addition to the satisfaction obtained
from the object itself of the desire, but "desire doth never arise
from a view of obtaining that sensation of joy, connected with
the success or gratification of the desire." In the case of the
appetites, these are always characterized by the fact that there
is a previous 'uneasy sensation' antecedently to "any opinion
of good in the object" (that is, they are instincts according to
the definition already given). The object is esteemed good
because it allays this pain or uneasiness, but it is ' desired ' prior
to its being experienced as 'good1.'

As far as the psychology of the instincts and emotions is
concerned, Hume2, Adam Smith3, and others of the rising

1 Nature and Conduct of the Passions, section iv.

2 1711-1776. 3 1723-1790.

42 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

' Scottish School,' must be closely associated with Hutcheson,
not only as regards their method of approach to ethics, which
indeed was not original in Hutcheson, but also as regards a
great number of their fundamental psychological doctrines.
In some cases this is due to the influence of Descartes, Male-
branche, and Locke on them all, but in many cases it is also
direct borrowing from Hutcheson on the part of the others. They
may reach different ethical conclusions, but their differences as
regards the psychology of conduct are marvellously slight.

Neither Hume nor Adam Smith gives so systematic a psy-
chology of the natural tendencies and emotions as Hutcheson,
but both make valuable and interesting additions, Hume in
his comparative discussions of animal psychology, and in his
development of several points which Hutcheson did not
sufficiently emphasize, Adam Smith in his elaborate discussion
of sympathy. It is, however, somewhat notable that neither
Hutcheson, Hume, nor Adam Smith, nor indeed any of the
philosophers of the Scottish School, made a real psychological
advance on Malebranche's treatment of sympathy, imitation,
and suggestion; what advance they made was in the treat-
ment of specific natural tendencies as distinct from these
general tendencies.

In any history of the psychology of ethics, Hume must
always occupy an important place, not merely for his careful
and detailed analysis of the various psychological factors
involved in human conduct, but still more for the vast influence
which he exerted on the English associationist school. As
regards his contributions to the psychology of Instinct, however,
Hume's importance is by no means so great. He is throughout
fettered by the account he has already1 given of the elements
of mind as 'impressions' and 'ideas.' There is a comparatively
minor role for instincts to play. Most of Hume's difficulties,
however great ingenuity he may display in surmounting them
or getting round them, arise from this very source. They exist

1 Hume comes to the psychology of conduct in book n of his Treatise of
Human Nature, after he has already discussed the psychology of cognition in
book i, and some of the conclusions he has already arrived at are of such a
nature as inevitably to influence the whole subsequent development of his
thought.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 43

for Hume in a way they did not exist for Locke, since Locke
almost wholly ignored the emotional side of human nature, in
his psychology as in his educational theory, while Hume, under
the influence of the teaching of Malebranche, Shaftesbury, and
Hutcheson, frankly faced the problems presented by the
emotions and affections, and attempted to find solutions of
these problems, consistent with his intellectual psychology of
impressions and ideas. His ingenuity is often exercised, and
vainly exercised, to save his consistency.

Hume's conception of Instinct is nowhere very clear or
definite. Its earliest appearance is in the first book of the
Treatise, where he distinguishes those actions of animals which
are due to intelligence from those due to instinct, but adds that
reason itself "is nothing but a wonderful and unintelligible
instinct in our souls1." The Enquiry, dealing with the same
topics, gives a much clearer and more explicit statement:

"For, though animals learn many parts of their knowledge
from observation, there are also many parts of it, which they
derive from the original hand of Nature, which much exceed
the share of capacity they possess on ordinary occasions, and
in which they improve little or nothing by the longest practice
and experience. These we denominate instincts, and are apt
to admire as something very extraordinary and inexplicable by
all the disquisitions of human understanding. But our wonder
will perhaps cease or diminish, when we consider that the
experimental reasoning itself, which we possess in common
with beasts, and on which the whole conduct of life depends,
is nothing but a species of instinct or mechanical power, that
acts in us unknown to ourselves, and in its chief operations is
not directed by any such relations or comparison of ideas, as
are the proper objects of our intellectual faculties. Though the
instinct be different, yet still it is an instinct, which teaches
a man to avoid the fire, as much as that which teaches a bird,
with such exactness, the art of incubation, and the whole
economy and order of its nursery2."

In this passage 'instinct' seems to be used in two senses.

1 Treatise of Human Nature, book i, part in, section xvi.

2 Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, section ix.

44 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

It is a kind of knowledge derived from "the original hand of
Nature." On the other hand, it is a "mechanical power,"
which "acts in us." But most frequently the word is used in
what appears to be a third sense, as equivalent to 'original
impulse' or 'tendency.' For example: "The sentiment of
justice is either derived from our reflecting on that tendency
(the tendency to promote public utility), or, like hunger, thirst,
and other appetites, resentment, love of life, attachment to
offspring, and other passions, arises from a simple original
instinct in the human breast, which Nature has implanted for
like salutary purposes1."

In other words, Hume embodies all the different views, that
have been held, or that can be held, with regard to the nature
of Instinct, without apparently becoming conscious of any
difficulty or inconsistency. Nevertheless it is in the third
meaning that the term is generally used by him, that is, as
equivalent to an original impulse or propensity, underlying in
many cases emotional tendencies or passions, and this meaning
becomes of considerable importance, when Hume goes on to
treat of the passions.

In the Natural History of Religion Hume specifies two
important characteristics of an instinct. In the first place,
it is "absolutely universal in all nations and ages2." In the
second place, it "has always a precise, determinate object,
which it inflexibly pursues3."

Hume classifies emotions or passions into two groups, direct
and indirect, as he calls them, but which might rather be called
primary and secondary. Direct or primary passions are of two
kinds, those founded upon experience of good and evil, for "the
mind by an original instinct tends to unite itself with the good,
and to avoid the evil4," and those arising from natural impulses
or instincts, which "produce good and evil, and proceed not
from them5." To the former group belong desire and aversion,
to the latter "self-love, affection between the sexes, love of
progeny, gratitude, resentment6."

1 Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, section ill, also appendix II.

2 The Natural History of Religion, Introd. 3 Loc. cit.

4 Treatise of Human Nature, book n, part m, section ix.

5 Op. cit., book n, part m, section ix. 6 Natural History of Religion, Introd.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 45

Pride and humility, love and hatred, are the typical indirect
or secondary passions, which, though founded upon natural
tendencies, always arise from a double relation of impressions
and of ideas. Hope and fear, with their modifications, belong
with desire and aversion, and these are the only direct passions
to which Hume devotes much attention. Curiosity he treats
separately, but apparently it also is a direct passion, though
belonging to the second group.

Hume, like Hutcheson, holds that the ends of human action
are dependent upon the sentiments and affections, and not
on the intellectual functions. Hence reason is no motive for
action, but has merely the function of directing the "impulse
received from appetite or inclination1." The sole determining
motives of the will are the passions, or ultimately Instinct,
though this conclusion is nowhere, so far as we are aware,
drawn explicitly. Passions, however, may be calm or violent,
and it is when the motive is of the calm kind, that we are
deceived into thinking that the motive is reason. " Reason is,
and ought only to be, the slave of the passions2."

The only other aspect of his psychology, requiring some
notice here, is the treatment of sympathy. Sympathy plays
a very considerable part in the whole psychology of the emotions.
It is defined as that propensity we have "to receive by com-
munication" the "inclinations and sentiments" of others, and
the first appeal to it is made in discussing the "love of fame3."
Sympathy appears partly to cover what we call suggestibility,
that is, the tendency to accept the opinions of certain others,
but, in the case of opinions, Hume distinguishes between the
effects of sympathy and those of 'authority,' so that we might
say he recognizes both tendencies, though occasionally inclined
to confuse their results.

Hume accounts for the communication of feeling through
sympathy by supposing that the signs of the feeling give rise
in others to the idea of the feeling, which, through its vividness,
becomes an impression. He is thus very near to the position

1 Enquiry concerning the, Principles of Morals, appendix I.

2 Treatise of Human Nature, book n, part in, section m.

3 Op. cit., book 11, part i, section xi.

46 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

that feeling is communicated directly on perceiving the signs
of the feeling, that is to McDougall's 'primitive passive sym-
pathy.' Upon this sympathy Hume bases the various phe-
nomena, which we consider as arising rather from the gregarious
instinct, including McDougall's 'active sympathy,' that is, the
desire that others should share our feelings1. He is uncertain
whether to base kindly feeling for others on sympathy or upon
an original and specific instinct2.

Adam Smith is notable in the history of psychology for his
elaborate discussion of sympathy, and his attempt to base an
ethical system on that tendency. Otherwise he makes no
particular addition to the analysis of emotion and will by
Hume and Hutcheson3. He differs somewhat from Hume in
his account of the communication of feeling by sympathy.
According to Adam Smith, we experience the feelings of others
by imagining ourselves in their places. Perhaps too much should
not be made of his use of the word 'imagine.' Nevertheless the
use of that word undoubtedly suggests to him, as to the reader,
a certain interpretation, which is, as certainly, a wrong reading
of the facts.

"The mob, when they are gazing at a dancer on the slack
rope, naturally writhe and twist and balance their own bodies,
as they see him do, and as they feel that they must do, if in
his situation4." "Sympathy does not arise so much from the
view of the passion, as from that of the situation which excites
it5." Both these statements show very clearly the direction
of Adam Smith's thought regarding sympathy, and explain why
he uses the word 'imagine.'

Active sympathy is also noted by Adam Smith, being dis-
tinguished as something more than the mere communication
of feeling. "Nothing pleases us more than to observe in other
men a fellow-feeling with all the emotions of our own breast;
nor are we ever so much shocked as by the appearance of the

1 Treatise of Human Nature, book n, part n, section iv.

2 Loc. cit.

3 This is perhaps not quite true, for there is a rather good analysis of
'surprise,' 'wonder,' 'admiration,' etc. at the beginning of his Essay on the
'History of Astronomy.'

4 Theory of Moral Sentiments, part i, section i, chap. i.
6 Loc. cit.

n] or Instinct from Hotibes to Diigald Stewart 47

contrary1." "This correspondence of the sentiments of others
with our own appears to be a cause of pleasure, and the want of
it a cause of pain, which cannot be accounted for in this manner
(i.e. by passive sympathy)2." When we have read a book so
often that we no longer find entertainment in it, "we can still
take pleasure in reading it to a companion3."

Adam Smith's whole theory of morals is founded upon the
interaction of these two forms of sympathy. Our judgment
of another is determined by the extent to which we can sym-
pathize with the motives underlying his conduct, and our
judgment of ourselves by the extent to which the * impartial
spectator' can sympathize with our motives. Apart from this
aspect of his theory, Adam Smith agrees in the main with Hume,
as regards the origin of the various emotions and passions, more
especially those which rest directly upon instinct, as well as
with respect to the analysis of the more complex emotional
states4.

Ten years after the publication of Adam Smith's Theory of
the Moral Sentiments, Adam Ferguson5 published his Essay on
the History of Civil Society, which deserves mention here, if only
for the clear statement with regard to the existence in man of
a gregarious instinct. "Together with the parental affections,"
he says, "we may reckon a propensity, common to man and
other animals, to mix with the herd, and, without reflection, to
follow the crowd of his species6." "The track of a Laplander
on the snowy shore gives joy to the heart of the lonely mariner."

Except for the first part of the book, which is devoted to a
discussion of the general characteristics of human nature,
Ferguson's Essay, though readable enough, is rather superficial.
There is, however, this other very interesting and explicit
statement : " Man, like the other animals, has certain instinctive
propensities, which, prior to the perception of pleasure and
pain, and prior to the experience of what is pernicious or useful,

1 Moral Sentiments, part I, section i, chap. 11.

2 LOG. cit. 3 Loc. cit.

4 See especially Note to chap, v of section i, book i.

5 1723-1816. Adam Ferguson has the unique distinction of having filled
three different professorial chairs in Edinburgh University, Natural Philosophy,
Moral Philosophy, and Mathematics.

6 Essay on the History of Civil Society, part i, section in.

48 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

lead him to perform many functions, which terminate in him-
self, or have a relation to his fellow-creatures. He has one set
of dispositions which tend to his animal preservation, and to
the continuance of his race; another which lead to society,
and, by enlisting him on the side of one tribe or community,
frequently engage him in wars and contentions with the rest
of mankind1."

The line of psychological development from Malebranche
through Hutcheson and Hume, like tHe line from Descartes
through Locke and Hume, reached its final expression in the
psychology underlying the philosophy of the Scottish School.
But, whereas Eeid2 is by far the most important representative
of the Scottish School in the one line of development — the
psychology of cognition, — Dugald Stewart's3 is the most in-
teresting treatment of the psychology of conation.

To some extent Reid's Common Sense must be interpreted
psychologically as a protest against the notion that the bare
impression or idea represents the reality of our cognitive
experience, and an assertion of the principle that living ex-
perience, even on its cognitive side, is determined by a 'given,'
which is not in the impression or idea as such. It does not
seem quite justifiable to interpret Reid's answer to Hume wholly
in the light of the 'critical philosophy' of Kant. We must
remember that Reid's philosophy of 'Common Sense' was
developed — to use a phrase which Professor Pringle-Pattison
uses similarly of Green — "within the shadow of, and with
special reference to, the Treatise of Human Nature*" The
Treatise is fundamentally and essentially a psychological ana-
lysis of experience, and Reid attacks it both as psychology
and as epistemology.

Had Reid not been more concerned, because of Hume's
conclusions, in showing that perception is perception of a real
object, it is easy to see how his analysis of perception might have
led him to a clear recognition of native or instinctive impulses.
As it was, in discussing Instinct under that name, Reid

1 Essay on the History of Civil Society, part i, section in.

2 1710-1796. 3 1753-1828.
4 Seth, Scottish Philosophy, p. 125.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Due/aid Stewart 49

contributed comparatively little to psychology, owing largely
to the fact that he was considering Instinct from the outside.

Classifying the 'Active Powers,' Reid subdivides them into
three groups : Mechanical Principles of Action, Animal Prin-
ciples, and Rational Principles. Instinct, with habit, is placed
under the first head, appetites, with desires and affections, under
the second1. He also uses the term 'instinct' in a vague,
popular sense, as determining that ' belief,' which underlies the
perception of real objects, and, therefore, is the ground of the
appeal to the principles of 'Common Sense.'

Apart from this very unsatisfactory treatment of Instinct,
under that name, some of Reid's positions are not without
considerable interest and significance for a psychology of the
determining motives of action. He recognizes that there are
two elements or constituents of human nature, which determine
human conduct, and which have been known by mankind in
all ages as 'passion' and 'reason.' Under 'passion' are com-
prehended "various principles of action similar to those we
observe in brute animals," called by the various names, appetites,
affections, passions, which words are not used definitely, but
" promiscuously2." Opposed to ' passion ' is ' reason.' He gives
a wide meaning to 'reason,' so as to include the 'calm' passions,
which both Hutcheson and Hume had emphasized. 'Reason'
becomes, therefore, a motive force or principle of action. This
' reason ' is the specific difference between the nature of man and
the nature of brutes3. It is "superior to every passion, and
able to give law to it4."

This illegitimate use of the term 'reason '.was afterwards
rejected by Dugald Stewart, but it has at least this justification,
that principles and ideals, which we accept as representing a
law for us, do, by our acceptance, become real motive forces in
us. Reid's mistake lies in not making a psychological analysis
of these principles and ideals, as his predecessors, Hutcheson
and Hume, had done, and distinguishing in them what is
strictly reason and what is not. Throughout the third chapter

1 Essays on the Active Powers of Man. Hamilton's edition of Reid's Works,
pp. 535, 547, 548.

2 p. 535. 3 p. 535. 4 p. 536.

D. 4

50 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

of the second essay on the 'Active Powers,' Reid continues this
opposition of ' passion ' and ' reason,' always meaning by ' passion'
impulses of our 'animal nature,' what is common to man and the
'brute animals,' and what is characteristic of children "before
the use of reason1."

Under Instinct, in its mechanical sense, Reid includes
mainly what we prefer to call reflexes, such as the tendency
to wink when anything threatens our eyes2. Rather strangely,
however, he also includes imitation, and seems prepared to add
' instinctive ' belief — apparently suggestibility — which, according
to him, plays an important part in the education of the child.
There are, in fact, according to Reid, two types of instinctive
belief, the one corresponding to suggestibility, the other the
belief "which children show, even in infancy, that an event,
which they have observed in certain circumstances, will happen
again in like circumstances3."

The discussion of the ' Animal Principles of Action ' contains
very little that is essentially new, but sums up and illustrates,
in almost as full and comprehensive a manner as in Hume's
Treatise, the psychology of the various natural tendencies in
the human being. One point perhaps deserves to be noted.
Reid differs from Adam Smith in his account of sympathy,
deriving it from pity, and that in turn from kindly feeling or
benevolent affection, wherein Adam Smith may be wrong, but
Reid is certainly not right4.

Dugald Stewart's psychology of what he calls the ' Instinctive
Principles of Action' may be regarded as a summing up of the
results reached by psychology so far, and as more representative,
as regards this part of psychology, of the real conclusions at
which the Scottish School had arrived, than the corresponding
parts of Reid's psychology. The comprehensive and generally
lucid statement by Dugald Stewart of the general position in
psychology exerted very great influence, especially in France,
during the early part of the nineteenth century, and we shall
therefore close our discussion of this line of psychological
development with an account of Stewart's psychology of

1 p. 539. 2 p. 547. 3 p. 549.

4 p. 565. All the references are to Hamilton's edition of Reid's Works.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 51

Instinct. This we may regard as marking the high- water mark
of the purely introspective psychology.

At the beginning of the second volume of his Philosophy of
the Human Mind, Stewart states carefully the sense in which
he intends to employ the word 'reason,' and to this sense he,
in the main, adheres, both in that and in his other works. "In
the use which I make of the word 'reason,'" he says, "I employ
it... to denote mainly the power by which we distinguish truth
from falsehood, and combine means for the attainment of our
ends1." Consequently, when he classifies the 'Active Powers'
into ' Instinctive or Implanted Propensities ' and ' Rational and
Governing Principles2' he is not necessarily attributing motive
force to reason alone, as Reid did, or at least seemed to do.

The ' Instinctive Propensities ' Stewart further classifies mto
appetites, desires, and affections, the 'Rational Principles' into
self-love and the 'moral faculty.' The relation of these to
understanding or reason is not left for a moment in doubt .
"Our active propensities are the motives which induce us to
exert our intellectual powers ; and our intellectual powers are
the instruments by which we attain the ends recommended to
us by our active propensities3." The activity of reason "pre-
supposes some determination of our nature," which will make
the attainment of the ends, towards which our activity of reason
is directed, desirable. Not only so, but these active propensities
also largely determine the direction and extent of the develop-
ment of our intellectual powers, and hence "in accounting for
the diversities of genius and of intellectual character among
men, important lights may be derived from an examination of
their active propensities4."

The appetites are distinguished by three characteristics,
their originating from states of the body, their periodical and
occasional, rather than constant, occurrence, and their feeling
accompaniment of 'uneasiness,' which is "strong or weak in
proportion to the strength or weakness of the appetite5." The

1 Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. ii,*p. 11.

2 Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers of Man, vol. I, p. 12.

3 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 2.

4 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 6.

5 Op. cit., vol. I, p. 15

52 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

main and indubitably natural appetities are three, hunger,
thirst, and sex. The corresponding impulses — and the same
is true as regards the ' desires' — are " directed towards their
respective objects," not to any pleasure that arises from their
gratification. "The object of hunger is not happiness, but
food, the object of curiosity not happiness, but knowledge1."
Nevertheless, as a result of the experience of pleasure, the mere
gratification of an appetite may become the end, and thus we
may have the development of many acquired appetites, such
as the appetite for tobacco, the appetite for intoxicants, and
the like. "Occasional propensities to action and repose,"
which apply to the mind as well as the body, may be added
to the appetites2. In animals there are also "instinctive
impulses," in the form of antipathies against natural enemies,
but Stewart doubts whether these natural antipathies show
themselves in man.

The 'desires' differ from the appetites, in that they do not
take their rise from states of the body, nor do they possess the
characteristic of periodicity or occasional occurrence — that is,
they are more or less permanent. Of natural 'desires/ five
can be clearly distinguished, curiosity, the desire of society, the
desire of esteem, ambition, and emulation3.

Dugald Stewart's discussion of the desire for society, or the
gregarious instinct, is of considerable interest. "We are led,"
he says, "by a natural and instinctive desire to associate with
our species4," and this, apart from any perceived advantage to
ourselves, and apart from any interest we may have in the
happiness of others. Children show the instinct "long before
the dawn of reason." The lower animals also clearly exhibit
it5. In the light of this instinct, it is easy to show that Hobbes
was in error in denying the original social nature of man. The
tendency towards union among human beings cannot arise
from any selfish need of the assistance of others, because it
shows itself when men do not stand in need of such assistance,
and it is where men "are most independent of each other, as

1 Active and Moral Powers of Man, vol. I, p. 24.

2 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 20. 3 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 22.
4 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 28. 5 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 29.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 53

to their animal wants, that the social principles operate with
the greatest force1." "It is not the wants and necessities of
man's animal being, which create his social principles, and
produce an artificial and interested league, among individuals
who are naturally solitary and hostile; but, determined by
instinct to society, endowed with innumerable principles which
have a reference to his fellow-creatures, he is placed by the
conditions of his birth in that element where alone the per-
fection and happiness of his nature are to be found2." This
is but a particular case of the "mutual adaptation" of nature,
which is exhibited also in the case of all the animal instincts.
"The lamb when it strikes with its forehead while yet unarmed
proves that it is not its weapons, which determine its instincts,
but that it has pre-existent instincts suited to its weapons3."

By the * Desire of Esteem ' Dugald Stewart means in the
main what Eibot and McDougall call positive and negative
self-feeling. Claiming this as "an original principle of our
nature," he once more criticises those who would derive every
principle of action from self-love, maintaining that the ' desire
of esteem' shows itself too early to allow us to resolve it into
a sense of the advantages which arise from the good opinion
of others, and, citing also against such a view the desire of
posthumous fame4. The importance of this original principle
of action in the education of children is emphasized, and the
part played by sensitiveness to the opinion of others, to public
opinion, in the development of the moral life is fully recognized 5.

Ambition or the 'Desire of Power' covers several original
tendencies of our nature, a fact of which Stewart is quite
conscious, for he identifies it with the pleasure of activity,
with the desire of being a cause — constructiveness6 — and with
the desire for property — acquisitiveness7 — but the last, accord-
ing to his view, is a derived, not an original principle. In
discussing emulation or the 'Desire of Superiority,' he dis-
tinguishes this original principle very carefully from envy,
which he regards as secondary and more complex.

1 Active and Moral Powers of Man, vol. I, p. 33.

2 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 34. 3 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 35. 4 Op. cit., vol. I, p. 42
5 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 55. 6 Op. cit,, vol. I, p. 60. 7 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 63.

54 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH.

The Affections are "active principles whose real and ultimate
object is the communication of either enjoyment or suffering
to our fellow-creatures1." They may therefore be divided into
benevolent affections and malevolent affections. Of the former,
parental feeling is a typical example, of the latter, anger or
resentment. Four of the benevolent affections are discussed
in some detail, 'natural affection,' ' friendship,' 'patriotism,'
and 'pity.' It is not suggested — in fact such a suggestion is
explicitly deprecated — that these are all equally original and
unanalysable principles of action. The probabilities are quite
the other way. But, that they are all founded upon original
and primary instinctive tendencies, cannot be doubted.

The treatment of pity is interesting, mainly because it
involves the discussion of sympathy, which had already played
so prominent a part in the psychology of morals. Adam
Smith's analysis is examined and rejected. Stewart holds that
looks, gestures, and tones of distress "speak in a moment from
heart to heart2." The imagination is not involved at all. But
what is involved, and how 'sympathetic induction' of feeling
operates, is nowhere made clear. We are left with the impression
that Stewart has no clear apprehension of sympathy as a direct
communication of feeling, on perception of the signs of the
feeling in others, however much occasional statements seem
to point that way. In any case, 'sympathetic induction' of
feeling does not appear to be appreciated in its wide significance
at all, for Stewart is thinking only of sympathy in cases of pain
and distress.

A 'principle of Imitation3' or 'Sympathetic Imitation4' is
appealed to, in order to explain some of the examples of sym-
pathy cited by Adam Smith, as, for example, the effects of the
dancer's movements on the slack rope 5. But Stewart explicitly
declines to identify this 'sympathetic imitation' with sym-
pathy6. The analysis of sympathy must therefore be regarded
as psychologically far from complete, and that, even when

1 Active and Moral Powers of Man, vol. i, p. 75.

2 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 115. 3 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 119.

4 Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. in, chap. n.

5 See above, p. 46.

6 Active and Moral Powers of Man, loc. cit.

n] or Instinct from Hobbes to Dugald Stewart 55

Stewart had before his mind, from the very beginning, the very
aspect of the phenomena, which can alone lead to a satisfactory
analysis.

The 'malevolent affections ' are treated rather summarily.
Kesentment, hatred, jealousy, envy, revenge, misanthropy, are
enumerated, but the only one explicitly claimed as original and
instinctive is the first, and anger or resentment alone receives
full treatment. Two points are deserving of notice. In the
first place Stewart accepts a distinction, originally drawn by
Butler, between instinctive and deliberate resentment. He
recognizes, that is to say, the fact that resentment operates
both at the instinctive and at the rational level. In the second
place he is misled by the system of morals, he is seeking to
develop, into maintaining, with Reid, that the benevolent
affections are always accompanied by agreeable, the malevolent
by disagreeable feelings. He entirely overlooks that satis-
faction which comes from the working out of any natural
tendency whatsoever.

This somewhat lengthy discussion of the older psychology,
so far as it referred to the instinctive tendencies and emotions,
seemed to be necessary in view of the fact that claims have
recently been made, that psychology had almost entirely
neglected this field, till the development of biological science
in the nineteenth century, and especially since Darwin, had
compelled the psychologist to recognize an emotional, as well
as an intellectual, aspect of human nature, and also the fact
that the animal mind is more or less continuous with the human
mind. McDougall, for example, maintains that a "comparative
and evolutionary psychology" alone can provide a basis for the
social sciences, and that this could not be developed before
Darwin1. With no wish to detract from the value of the work
done by Darwin, which will receive due recognition later, we
cannot help pointing out that McDougall's criticism of the older
psychology is misleading and unfair, and citing in evidence the
psychological development from Malebranche to Dugald Stewart.

Moreover, McDougall goes on to take up the position that

1 McDougall, Social Psychology, p. 5.

56 Descriptive Psychology of Natural Inclination [CH. n

an introspective psychology could never have given us the
necessary insight into the instincts and emotions of man, at
the same time suggesting, rather than asserting, that the old
introspective psychology has to a large extent been superseded
by the comparative study o4^ animal and human behaviour.
Again the psychological development we have just traced
seems sufficient answer.

Dugald Stewart is as clear and emphatic as McDougall in point-
ing out the difficulties with which introspection must contend
when it is directed to the investigation of our feelings and active
tendencies1. In consequence of these difficulties introspective
psychology will always have very distinct limitations in this
field, so long as we rely on introspection alone. Its conclusions
will always be somewhat vague and general, without the
assistance of a comparative study of the behaviour of animals,
without the study of various phenomena under experimental
conditions, without the study of abnormal phenomena. But
it is surely obvious that the comparative and evolutionary
study of the behaviour of animals and human beings can give
us no psychology at all, without such introspection — or retro-
spection— as we can undertake, even in face of the confessed
difficulties involved, for the purpose of interpreting the observed
facts of behaviour in terms of experience.

Dugald Stewart, as well as others of the older psychologists,
quite realized the valuable data — though only secondary data
— which the psychologist could receive from the objective study
of human history and human conduct, as well as of the behaviour
of the lower animals. In justice more especially to the psy-
chology of the Scottish School, it is necessary that these facts
should be recognized. As for the view that the animal mind is,
to a certain extent, and in a certain sense, continuous with the
human mind, that can hardly be regarded as a result of modern
biological and evolutionary theories, for it is at least as old as
Aristotle2.

1 Active and Moral Powers of Man, vol. i, p. 9.

2 There are several very striking passages in Aristotle, but see especially
the passage in Historia Animalium beginning: Zvecm yap iv rots TrXefo-rois KCU
rcDf aXXwv fywv ?XI/r?' T&v Kepi rty if/vxyv rpbTrwv, airep eiri ruiv avdpuirdjv e^ei

T&S 5m0opds (Bekker, p. 588, a 18).

CHAPTER III

PHILOSOPHICAL AND SCIENTIFIC VIEWS OF THE
NATURE AND MEANING OF INSTINCT

We have considered the view of Instinct which a descriptive
and purely introspective psychology had reached by the begin-
ning of the nineteenth century. The views of Instinct which
have prevailed in more recent times have been either philo-
sophical, physiological, or biological, rather than psychological,
though they have often professed to be psychological, and it
remains for us to give some account of the development of
these.

Recent philosophical views of Instinct have been the product
in the main of German thought, more especially of German
philosophical thought subsequent to Kant, but this philo-
sophical development really has its source in Leibniz and Wolff,
rather than in Kant himself. With respect to psychology,
the main characteristic of the whole movement has been the
deducing of a psychology from certain metaphysical principles,
the psychological product of this method of procedure being
best represented in the psychology of Herbart. We may say
that one main difference between Scottish philosophy and
German philosophy, and consequently between Scottish and
German psychology — except experimental and recent — is that,
in the former case, a system of metaphysics is deduced from
the results of a psychological analysis, while, in the latter, a
psychological theory is deduced from metaphysical principles.

It is true that Kant's Critical Philosophy on one side finds
its beginning in the attempt to answer the contentions of Hume,
and therefore in an examination of philosophical conclusions
reached from a psychological starting-point. But, though
Kant's philosophy may be said to start thus, his whole attitude,

58 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

point of view, and method are determined to a much greater
extent by Leibniz and Wolff, than by Locke and Hume. The
intellectualistic bias of the Kantian philosophy might be re-
garded as a result of the influence of Locke and Hume. But
the influence in this case is apparent rather than real. Wolff's
influence was precisely in the same direction, and the bias was
present even before Kant set himself to the solution of the
problems raised by Hume.

It is by no means certain that future historians of philosophy
will not regard Leibniz1 as at least equally important with
either Kant or Hegel. At all events the Leibnizian philosophy
is the key, not only to the Kantian Criticism, and the post-
Kantian Idealism, but to certain very characteristic features
in the thought of Fichte, to the very interesting philosophical
development connected with the names of Schopenhauer and
von Hartmann, to certain aspects of Bergson's thought, and,
in some measure to the Pluralism and Pragmatism of to-day.

The philosophy of Leibniz started in a reaction against
the immobile pantheism of Spinoza. He asserted that real
existence is, on the one hand, self-active power, on the other
hand, individuality. That is, he finds reality in a plurality
of self -active monads. With his philosophy as a whole we are
not here concerned, but we must rather enquire how he works
out a psychology on this basis, and particularly a psychology
of the instincts and emotions.

Leibniz maintains that the human soul must be regarded
as a monad, having the power of 'clear perception,' and by
that power transcending the animal mind, though at the same
time containing the animal mind. In virtue of the c clear
perceptions,' which we may identify with reason, the human
mind brings to knowing certain innate principles, which are
the forms of clear cognition. As containing the animal mind,
however, the human soul has also ( confused perceptions '-
sensations — and, not only so, but also 'obscure perceptions/
perceptions which are undistinguishable from one another,
such as characterize plant life. But we must remember that
all the perceptions manifest themselves as self-initiated effort.

1 1646-1716.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 59

In this aspect, the * obscure perceptions' correspond to un-
conscious impulse, the 'confused perceptions' to instincts, the
'clear perceptions' to rational will. Hence, "since all three
grades stand in continuous connection, acts of will are originally
formed in the obscure natural impulse1."

At the lowest level will is determined by an obscure feeling
of discomfort or unrest; at the second level by pleasure and
pain ; at the highest level by distinct perceptions in the sense
of rational knowledge. When he has reached this point,
Leibniz becomes more or less intellectualistic, finding happiness
and virtue in intellectual enlightenment, the good becoming
the content of an enlightened will in precisely the same way
as the true of a perfect understanding.

The parts of this psychology which are interesting to us,
and which we would emphasize, are: in the first place, the
central position assigned to self-activity, a self-activity realizing
itself as perceptions of different degrees of distinctness on the
cognitive side, as unconscious impulse, instinct, and will, on
the conative: in the second place, the position assigned to
' obscure perceptions' and to unconscious impulse, with the
relating of the latter to instinct and will, a clear anticipation
of the doctrine of the ' unconscious,' or the 'subconscious/
which was destined to become so prominent later.

Under the direct influence of Leibniz, pragmatism imme-
diately raised its head in the teaching of Thomasius2, but the
main development of the Leibnizian philosophy was through
Wolff to Kant, a development almost solely on the intellectual
side. For the history of psychology as such Wolff3 is import-
ant, because he was the first to give the name ' psychology'
real currency, because he interpreted Leibniz's 'pre-estab-
lished harmony' pretty nearly in the sense of our psycho-
physical parallelism, and because he did a great deal to put
psychology on a scientific footing, and to prepare the way for
the work of Herbart, Fechner, and Wundt. As regards the
psychology of Instinct he is not significant.

Kant4 is, from the same point of view, scarcely more

1 Erdmann, History of Philosophy, vol. II, p.

2 1655-1728. 3 1679-1754.

195.

4 1724-1804.

60 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

significant. It is true that his answer to the empirical atomism
of Locke and Hume is conclusive as far as it goes, but that is
only so far as it is an analysis of the conditions of knowledge
as such1. Wherever the Critical Philosophy becomes a psycho-
logy it is at least as inadequate as that of Hume. For, though
Kant maintains that experience involves more than a succession
of states, since it involves also a permanent identity, and that
the principles which constitute the form of experience are, as
it were, given by the mind to experience, the experience or
knowledge under discussion is abstract, not concrete, is ex-
perience or knowledge as such, not the experience or knowledge
which psychology investigates.

It is true that there is a kind of dynamic taking the place
of the static conception of Hume, but the dynamic is a logical
or dialectical dynamic, if we may use such a collocation of
terms, not the dynamic of living experience. The inadequacy
of this conception does not make itself felt, so long as Kant's
aim is the solution of merely epistemological problems. It
becomes immediately apparent when he turns to ethical
problems. The synthetic unity of apperception then becomes
a self -deter mining principle, the dialectical a real dynamic, but
the transformation cannot be regarded as consistent with
Kantianism as such.

The notion of the Ego as self-determining activity became
the central principle of Fichte's2 philosophy. In his earlier
work, like Kant, Fichte concerned himself with the conditions
of knowledge, even maintaining that the philosopher as such
has nothing to do with apprehended objects or with the appre-
hending subject, leaving these to the psychologist3. As his
interest in ethics developed, and his ethical views focussed
and defined themselves, this standpoint gradually changed,
and he tended more and more to deduce a psychology from
his fundamental principles. He gave up the use of the term
'Absolute Ego,' using rather the notion and sometimes the
term 'Life4, ' and occasionally expressing himself in a way

1 Cf. Seth, Hegelianism and Personality, pp. 17 ff. and especially p. 31.
2 '1762-1814.

3 Erdmann, History of Philosophy, vol. II, p. 498.

4 Seth, Hegelianism and Personality, p. 70.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 61

that is strongly reminiscent of Bergson. "This Life is itself
neither in space nor time ; it is a mere force, pure force without
substrate, which is not itself a phenomenon at all, and which
cannot be perceived, but which lies at the basis of all possible
phenomenal or perceived existence1."

With his strong conviction that the destination of man is
to be found in action, not in pure thought, Fichte always
tended towards the interpretation of this abstract 'Life' as
real life, of its force as real force. Thus, in a final statement
of his position, he says :

" I ascribe to myself a real active force — a force, which pro-
duces being, and which is quite different from the mere faculty
of ideas. The ideas or plans, usually called ends or purposes,
are not to be considered, like the ideas of cognition, as after-
pictures of something given; they are rather fore-pictures,
or exemplars of something which is to be produced. The real
force, however, does not lie in them; it exists on its own
account, and receives from them only its determinate direction,
knowledge looking on, as it were, as a spectator of its action2. "

In this aspect of his thought Fichte may be considered
as a fore-runner of Schopenhauer, von Hartmann, Bergson,
rather than of Hegel. "The Eternal Will is the creator of
the world," he has said. He may not have meant this as a
strictly philosophical principle, but Schopenhauer found in the
same thought the basis for a new 'idealism/ the very antithesis
of Hegelianism.

The influence of Schopenhauer3, who gives us a more or
less developed philosophy of Instinct, has, through von Hart-
mann, considerably affected present-day theories of Instinct
in various directions. These two may be regarded as summing
up the results of the attempt at a philosophical deduction of
the psychology of Instinct.

For Schopenhauer, Kant's ' thing-in-itself ' became Will,
the word 'Will' denoting "that which is the inner nature of
everything4." From the side of the intellect, the world is

1 Seth, Hegelianism and Personality, p. 71, footnote.

2 Seth, op. cit., p. 153. 3 1788-1860.

4 Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung. Translation by
Haldane and Kemp, vol. I, p. 153.

62 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

only Idea1. Its inner reality, however, is teleological activity ;
it is Will. Understanding is the subjective correlative of the
nature of matter as cause and effect2. The first example of
understanding is the perception, of the actual world, and "this
is throughout knowledge of the cause from the effect3." The
effect which is known immediately is the affection of the animal
body, or sensation. Such effects being referred to their causes,
the perceptions of objects arise. "At one stroke, the under-
standing, by means of its one simple function, changes the
dull meaningless sensation into perception4. " Such is Schopen-
hauer's psychology of perception.

All animals must be considered to have understanding
since they perceive objects5. But the sphere of understanding,
that is the scope of perception, varies enormously from the
lowest to the highest. The difference between the mentality
of man and of the lower animals is summed up in a striking
passage, of which we cannot resist quoting at least the most
important parts. It is reason, Schopenhauer says, that gives
man "that thoughtfulness which distinguishes his consciousness
so entirely from that of the lower animals, and through which
his whole behaviour on earth is so different from that of his
irrational fellow-creatures. He far surpasses them in power
and also in suffering. They live in the present alone, he lives
also in the future and the past. They satisfy the needs of the
moment, he provides by the most ingenious preparations for
the future, yea for days that he shall never see. They are
entirely dependent on the impression of the moment, on the
effect of the perceptible motive ; he is determined by abstract
conceptions independent of the present. Therefore he follows
predetermined plans, he acts from maxims, without reference
to his surroundings or the accidental impression of the moment.
...The brute on the other hand is determined by the present
impression; only the fear of present compulsion can con-
strain its desires, until at last this fear has become custom,
and as such continues to determine it; this is called training.

1 Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, vol. I, p. 5.

2 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 13. 3 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 14.
4 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 14. 6 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 26.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 63

The brute feels and perceives ; man, in addition to this, thinks
and knows; both will.... The brute first knows death when it
dies, but man draws consciously nearer to it every hour that
he lives.... Principally on this account man has philosophies
and religions, though it is uncertain whether the qualities we
admire most in his conduct... were ever the fruit of either of
them1."

Schopenhauer makes his transition from the world as Idea
to the world as Will, when he considers the real meaning of the
perceived object. This transition, he says, could not be made
at all if we were pure knowing subjects. But the body appears
to us in two entirely different ways, to our understanding as
perceived object, and as "objectified will" in our acts2. My
body is therefore a condition of my knowledge of my will. "So
far as I know my will specially as object, I know it as body3."
This double knowledge, as Schopenhauer calls it, of the body
can be used "as the key to the nature of every phenomenon4."
What remains of any object when we set aside its idea is its
reality, and that is Will. Moreover, the body being objectified
will, "the parts of the body correspond to the principal desires
through which the will manifests itself5."

Since every kind of "active and operating force in nature"
is identified with will, we must conceive will as acting in inor-
ganic nature, in the organic and vegetative changes of the animal
body, in the "instinct and mechanical skill" of animals, as well
as in our own self-conscious nature6. Individuality charac-
terizes the higher manifestations of will, but the farther we
go from man, the fainter do the traces of individuality become,
until in the inorganic world they entirely disappear, except
perhaps in the crystal alone7. In the fact that it is one and
the same Will, that reveals itself in all forms, we have the
explanation of the analogy that pervades nature, and of the
harmony that underlies all, in spite of the perpetual conflict
going on between the higher and the lower forms of ' objectified

1 Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, vol. I, pp. 47-*

2 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 130. 3 Op. cit., vol. I, p. 132.
4 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 136. 5 Op. cit., vol. I, p. 141.
6 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 143. 7 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 171.

64 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

will1.' This harmony Schopenhauer speaks of as teleology, both
inner and outer, the inner teleology being the relation of all the
parts of an organism to one another, the outer, of the particular
parts of organized nature to tne rest, that is the other parts.

Such being the general lines of Schopenhauer's system of
thought, what has he to say of Instinct from the point of view
of the philosophy of Will ? In the case of animal life, he says,
the will may be set in motion in two ways, either from with-
out or from within, through motivation or through instinct2.
This contrast is not an absolute one, for the operation of a
motive depends on an 'inner tendency,' that is, 'a definite
quality of will, which we call the character.' The motive
, 'individualizes' this character for the concrete case. In the
same way, Instinct "does not act entirely like a spring from
within." Its action depends upon some external circumstance
which determines it. Hence, even where such action is most
mechanical, though it is primarily dependent on Instinct, it is
yet 'subordinated to intellect.' The instinct "gives the uni-
versal, the rule; the intellect the particular, the application."
"Instinct is a character which is only set in motion by a quite
specially determined motive," while the character of will gene-
rally may be set in motion by very different motives3. Hence
determination of action by Instinct only involves a limited
sphere of knowledge, and as much intelligence as is necessary
to apprehend the one special motive4.

On the other hand, the difference between this mechanical
tendency of instinct and ordinary organic processes in animals
is, that, in the latter case, the will acts "perfectly blindly,
in its primary condition5." The working for the future, the
anticipation of an end, which we see both in the organic pro-
cesses and in the instinctive activities of animals, might be
brought under the conception of 'a knowledge a priori,' if
knowledge 'lay at their foundation at all.' But this is not
the case. "Their source lies deeper than the sphere of know-
ledge, in the will, as the thing-in-itself, which as such remains

1 Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, vol. i, p. 201.

2 Op. cit., vol. in, p. 96. 3 Op. cit., vol. in, p. 97.

4 Op. cit., vol. in, p. 98. 6 Op. cit., vol. in, p. 101.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 65

free even from the forms of knowledge ; therefore with reference
to it time has no significance1."

E. von Hartmann's2 philosophy is not essentially different
from Schopenhauer's, though it is an attempt to reconcile
Schopenhauer with Schelling and Hegel. The reconciliation
is effected by placing alongside of Schopenhauer's unconscious
Will the unconscious Idea. For von Hartmann the Absolute, or,
as he calls it, the Unconscious, is not only Will, but it is also
Idea. "The unconscious Will of Nature eo ipso presupposes
an unconscious Idea, as goal, content, or object of itself3."

vjnstijict is one of the most important and familiar manifes-
tations of the Unconscious,, both as Will and as Idea. Von
Hartmann gives us two definitions of Instinct. It is " purposive
action without consciousness of the purpose4," and it is "con-
scious willing of the means to an unconsciously willed end5."
The second of these definitions is, however, merely an alterna-
tive statement and fuller explanation of the first.

Three possible accounts or explanations of Instinct, he says,
are apparently available. We may explain it, "as a mere
consequence of corporeal organization," or "as a cerebral or
mental mechanism," or as "a result of unconscious mental
activity6." He rejects the first and second views as inadequate,
and incapable of accounting for the facts. Instinct must be
regarded as conscious willing, as volition, not as mere mechanism,
and conscious willing, conditioned by an unconscious purpose
and not a mere unconscious mechanism.

There are two marks by which we can distinguish volition
from the mechanism of reflex action. First of all there is
emotion; secondly there is "consistency in carrying out the
intention7." Both marks characterize the instinctive actions
of animals. But conscious willing cannot itself explain Instinct.
Instinct must also involve "unconscious ideation and volition,"
an unconscious purpose8, because nothing else will explain the

1 Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung, vol. in, p. 104.

2 1842-1906.

3 E. v. Hartmann, Philosophy of the Unconscious (translation by Coupland),
vol. i, p. 39.

4 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 79. 6 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 88.
6 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 79. 7 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 61.
8 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 88.

D. 5

66 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

connection between the sensuous presentation as motive, and
the "conscious will to some particular action." There must
be some causal connection, and this causal connection does
not arise from experience. The pleasure that follows has
nothing to do with the will to act instinctively1. On the other
hand, the derivation of the "willed end" from conscious
rational activity is radically hopeless2, when we think of the
high grade of intelligence, that would be necessarily involved
in such rational activity, to account for the results in the
instinctive actions of the lowest organisms.

The unconscious knowledge, which underlies Instinct, is of
the nature of "clairvoyance," and manifests itself as "clair-
voyant intuition3." In the case of the human being this
clairvoyant intuition is also present, but always with a
"reverberation" in consciousness, and sometimes as "pure
idea," without conscious will4. Clairvoyance may occur apart
from Instinct. They are two distinct facts. But clairvoyance
alone will explain the nature of Instinct-knowledge5. This
clairvoyant intuition is "the characteristic attribute of the
Unconscious6."

Summing up7, von Hartmann finds that Instinct is not the
result of conscious reflection, nor of corporeal, cerebral, or
mental mechanisms, but of the conscious activity of the indi-
vidual, "springing from his inmost nature and character";
that the end, a towards which the activity is directed, is not
conceived by an external mind, a Providence, but "uncon-
sciously willed and imagined" by the individual, and the suitable
means unconsciously chosen ; and that the knowledge involved
in this unconscious cognition, which is frequently such as
could not be obtained from sense perception, is of the nature
of clairvoyant intuition. It is necessary that the instinctive
action itself should be vividly realized in consciousness, in
order that the necessary accuracy of execution should be
secured, but it is the execution only that is conscious.

1 Philosophy of the Unconscious, vol. I, p. 87.

2 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 93. 3 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 106.
4 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 107. 5 Op. cit., vol. i, p*'114.
6 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 114. 7 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 113.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 67

Von Hartmann divides human instincts into two groups ,
those relating to physical, and those relating to psychical
needs1, and enumerates a great number, especially of those
belonging to the first groupi The capricious appetites of the
sick, the "curative instincts" of children, the fear oj^fajling,
the instinct to suck, the distinguishing of "genuine from feigned
friendship2," the fear of death, shame, disgust3, love of dress
on the part of girls4, play5, sympathy6, gratitude and retalia-
tion7, maternal love8, sexual love9, may be cited as examples.
He also anticipates in a rather significant way, and more fully
than Malebranche, the view of play, which we attribute to
Karl Groos, who indeed was considerably influenced by von
Hartmann. Play appears as a "presaging instinct," which
guides children and the young of animals to the exercise of the
activities they will require in future, and thus "trains them in
advance." Play is, therefore, "unconsciously subservient to
the aims of the future life."

A fuller account is given of the clairvoyant intuition of
Instinct in the second volume of the Philosophy of the Uncon-
scious. Unconscious ideation, of which the unconscious know-
ledge of Instinct is a particular case, is of such a kind that the
ordinary consciousness can form no conception of it, save
negatively from what it is not. It is not affected by sickness
or fatigue10 ; it has not the form of sensibility11 ; it does not
hesitate, or doubt, or err12. The thought of the Unconscious
is timeless and non- temporal ; the " coming- to-manifestation "
of its result is alone in time13. "Will and representation are
united in inseparable unity14." On the other hand, conscious
thought makes possible "the emancipation of the intellect
from the will." While the apparent errors of Instinct are
errors of consciousness, not of the Unconscious, it must also
be remembered, that all progress depends upon the expansion
of the sphere where consciousness prevails, because this makes

Philosophy of the, Unconscious, vol. I, p. 205. 2 Op. cit., vol. I, p. 205.

Op. cit., vol. i, p. 206. 4 Op. cit., vol. I, p. 208.

Op. cit., vol. i, p. 207. 6 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 210.

Op. cit., vol. i, p. 211. 8 Op. cit., vol. i, p. 212.

Op. cit., vol. i. 220. 10 Op. cit., vol. IT, p. 47.

11 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 48. 12 Op. cit., vol. n, pp. 50-51.

13 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 51. 14 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 55.

5—2

68 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

possible the "liberation of consciousness from the sway of
passion and interest," that is -of Will1.

Lastly the function of Instinct in Nature, inclusive of
human life, is threefold. "Every unconscious idea is accom-
panied by unconscious will, which represents the general will
of self-preservation, and preservation of the species2." That
is to say there are two main ends which instincts subserve,
preservation of the self and preservation of the race. But
there is a third end, especially important as regards humanity.
That is the "perfection and ennoblement of the species3." The
progress of the human race, individual, social, and national,
the appreciation of the beautiful, the development of science
and philosophy, the satisfaction of the deeper spiritual needs
of the heart, all derive their driving force, their interest and
will, from the Will and Idea of the Unconscious.

The main interest of this development of thought culmina-
ting in von Hartmann's philosophy of the "Unconscious" is
perhaps philosophical rather than psychological. Philosophic-
ally it is an assertion of the ultimate psychical nature of Instinct,
and of the impossibility of explaining, not merely the manifesta-
tions of Instinct, but Instinct itself in any but psychical
terms. But, since this impossibility is asserted, not only of
Instinct, but of all natural forces whatsoever, it is not clear
how the assertion helps the psychologist very much. On the
other hand, the notion of the 'unconscious,' as the 'subcon-
scious/ has been a very fruitful one for abnormal psychology,
and, through Freud and his school, by a kind of 'total reflec-
tion,' as it were, has, in recent times, affected other aspects
of the psychology of Instinct. Apart from this, the notion
of 'clairvoyant intuition,' as characteristic of Instinct-Know-
ledge, has received further emphasis in the thought of Bergson
and his followers4. How far these two psychological deductions
from philosophical principles ought to be permitted to modify
our psychology of Instinct, we shall require to consider later.

1 Philosophy of Ike Unconscious, vol. n, p. 59.

2 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 55.

3 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 56.

4 While this is passing through the press, a new work on Instinct has
appeared, in which a theory very like that of v. Hartmann is developed, the
interesting book, What is Instinct ?, by C. Bingham Newland.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 69

The development of natural science, from about the middle
of the eighteenth century onwards, brought upon the scene
other views of Instinct, involving a discussion and interpreta-
tion of the phenomena from an entirely different point of
view — from two different points of view, in fact, as we shall
see presently. We must remember, however, that, apart from
the purely biological aspect of Instinct, the views we have
already considered have also influenced the views of the physio-
logist and the biologist, Schopenhauer's and von Hartmann's
more or less directly, the psychology of the Scottish School
through Cabanis and the phrenologists. The influence has
really been mutual, an influence of physiological and biological
study on psychological and philosophical conceptions, an
influence of psychology and philosophy on physiological and
biological conceptions of Instinct.

Physiological psychology had made a strong bid for recog-
nition as the only scientific psychology by the middle of the
eighteenth century. Hartley's1 Observations on Man and
Bonnet's2 Contemplation de la Nature were published almost
contemporaneously just before the middle of the century,
while Bonnet's more important work, the Essai analytique sur
lesfacult.es de I'dme, appeared in 1760. Von Haller's3 Elementa
physiologiae humani corporis saw the light about the same
time. Swammerdam4, the Dutch naturalist, had done im-
portant biological work, as, for example, in the study of insects,
a century earlier.

There were two directions in which the work done in
physiology and biology contributed to a clearer and fuller
knowledge of Instinct. On the one hand, there was a contri-
bution, mainly physiological, developing as a pure physiology
of the brain and nervous system, and influencing psychology
through phrenology, and later through the physiological
psychology of the present day. On the other hand, there was
a more important contribution, mainly biological, developing,
more especially during the nineteenth century, through the
various theories of evolution into a comparative study of the
physiology and psychology of living organisms, and represented

1 1705-1757. 2 1720-1793. 3 1708-1777. 4 '1637-1

70 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

in the psychology of to-day by Comparative and Social
Psychology1.

The physiological psychology of the earlier physiologists,
Hartley and the rest, was in the main a somewhat crude attempt
to express the psychology of Locke in physiological terms.
Equally crude was the attempt made by Erasmus Darwin2
towards the end of the same century. The first really scientific
physiological psychology made its appearance in the Traite du
physique et du moral de Vhomme of Cabanis3, published for the
first time as a separate work in 1802.

Cabanis starts from the conception of 'sensibility' as a
general and characteristic property of all living organisms.
He tries to show how all the higher intellectual processes are
evolved from 'sensibility,' how they all depend upon organic
conditions, and also to determine the organic conditions. His
explanation was, therefore, intended to be an explanation
throughout in physiological rather than psychological terms,
science not 'metaphysics.' His aim was to show how ideas,
instincts, passions, depend upon, are modified by, and involve
only physiological conditions.

Lewes quotes4 a very interesting example of the method
of Cabanis, as applied to Instinct, what he calls Cabanis' experi-
mental proof of the fact that an instinct is developed by certain
organic conditions. An artificial maternal love is, according
to this account, produced in a capon by plucking of? the feathers
from his abdomen, rubbing the abdomen with nettles and
vinegar, and then placing the capon on eggs for hatching.
This artificial instinct, it is said, not only endures till the
chickens are hatched, but until they no longer need care and
protection.

The attempt of Cabanis, in spite of the defects of both his
physiology and his psychology5, must receive due recognition,
as a genuine attempt, prompted by the true scientific spirit,

1 'Social Psychology' is here used in the widest sense.

2 1731-1802. Zoonomia, published 1794-6.

3 1757-1808.

4 Biographical History of Philosophy, p. 627.

6 Cabanis defines Instinct as " Le produit des excitations dont les stimulus
s'appliquent a 1'interieur." See Bostock, Elementary System of Physiology, vol.
HI, p. 228.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 71

to interpret the facts of experience in terms of physiological
processes, and to develop a scientific psychology on the basis
of physiology. The kind of recognition we ought to give to
another and somewhat analogous attempt, viz. phrenology,
is more doubtful. Nevertheless phrenology and the work of
the phrenologists may justly be regarded as really more im-
portant than the work of Cabanis. C. S. Sherrington1 speaks
rather slightingly of the work of Gall2 and implicatively of
the whole phrenology movement. We cannot entirely share
his views. Gall was certainly more than half charlatan, as
were many of his followers, and Cranioscopy can claim no
respect from the scientist. But Spurzheim3 and Combe4 were
not charlatans, and phrenology as such was not only very
significant historically, but it exercised an important influence
on the development of psychology, of educational theory, and
to an even greater extent of physiology.

In order duly to appreciate the historical position of the
phrenologists, we must carefully avoid the error, into which
most psychologists, apparently following James5, seem to have
fallen. The modus operandi of the phrenologist's reasoning
cannot fairly be described as merely classifying the various
psychical phenomena, hypostatizing the class names as powers,
and then assigning these powers distinct organs in different
parts of the brain. It is true that this line of argument holds
against phrenology to the extent to which the phrenologists
adopt the 'faculty psychology.' But it quite ignores the real
historical position and significance of phrenology.

No doubt the psychology of Gall was of the nondescript
order, containing elements of Aristotelian and mediaeval psy-
chology, of the psychology of Locke and Hartley, as well
as of the psychology of Reid, Stewart, and the Scottish
School. Under these circumstances, if we are disposed to
criticise destructively, it is, as one would expect, a very easy
matter to criticise the psychology of the early phrenologists.
But we ought to discriminate. In order to come to a clear

1 Article "Brain" in Encyclopaedia Britannica, llth ed.

2 1758-1828. 3 1778-1832. 4 1788-1858.
6 Principles of Psychology, vol. i, p. 28.

72 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

and definite decision regarding the merits and demerits of this
early nineteenth century development of thought, in order to
reach a just evaluation of the work done, we must seek to
understand what the phrenologists were really trying to do.
What was their problem ? How did they set about its solution ?
These are the questions that must be asked and answered.

Like Cabanis the phrenologists were attempting to develop
a physiological psychology. But their method of approach
was different. It was also different from the method of
approach to psychology adopted by physiological biologists
like Bonnet and Erasmus Darwin. The notion of 'natural
law/ very prominent in Combe1, and underlying the thought
development as a whole in its typical manifestations, implies
the conception of nature as a mechanism through and through,
a mechanism contrived for the purposes of the Author of
Nature. The 'laws of nature' are the laws which regulate
action and reaction among things in the inorganic world, and
similarly action and reaction among living things, every thing
and every organism acting in accordance with the constitution
bestowed upon it. In virtue of its constitution each thing
has certain powers of acting with regard to other things. All
objects, therefore, are regarded as manifesting distinct forces,
each acting according to the laws of its nature2. The laws of
nature apply in the intellectual and moral life of man, as in
animal life, and as in the inorganic world.

Turning now to the human being, we find that he has a
definite constitution expressing itself in definite activities, the
activities being the actions of the various powers, forces, or
faculties of man. The same holds of animals, only man has
certain powers or faculties which animals have not got. As
regards the life processes, each power is represented in the
activity of a definite organ. The same ought to hold of the
mental and moral faculties of man, the animal propensities of
man and the lower animals. Hence the problem arises of
determining the organs, corresponding to the mental and moral
faculties of man.

1 See Constitution of Man, Introduction.

2 Loc. cit.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 73

The preliminary problem of determining the various mental
and moral powers or faculties does not seem to have presented
itself as a problem at all. Herein, we might say, consists the
first error of phrenology. But it must be remembered that
there were certain forces, recognized by the psychologists of
the time as real forces, impelling man to act in definite ways,
expressions of the constitution bestowed upon him by the
Divine Author of his being. These forces were the instinctive
tendencies, the 'animal propensities,' common to man and the
lower animals1. To these were added, more or less arbitrarily,
powers or faculties, in virtue of which man was able to know,
compare, and reflect upon objects, together with powers or
faculties, representing sentiments, or qualities of character or
will. All were equally regarded as due to the functioning of
certain organs, and the problem was to find the respective organs.

The chief human instincts, recognized by the phrenologists,
were sexual love (amativeness), parental love (philo-progeni-
tiveness), the gregarious instinct (adhesiveness), pugnacity
(combativeness), destructiveness, appetite for food, acquisi-
tiveness, constructiveness, self-esteem, love of approbation,
wonder, and imitation. This list is strongly suggestive of
the development of introspective psychology we have already
studied, and is additional evidence of the extent to which this
psychology had become the current psychology of the early
nineteenth century.

It is evident from this account of the underlying ideas of
phrenology that the criticisms, levelled and valid against the
'faculty psychology,' are not necessarily valid against phren-
ology, as such. Animal propensities, instinctive tendencies,
may quite legitimately be conceived as forces, without any
hypostatization of general terms, and the search for a corre-
sponding organ seems a quite legitimate scientific problem.
It is true that the search was conducted very unscientifically,
and that, while pretending to have succeeded, it really failed.
But the failure to solve the problem, they set out to solve,
must not be attributed to the phrenologists, as a crime against
reason and common sense.

1 Constitution of Man, chap, n, section in.

74 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

It is interesting to see how phrenology was related to
the orthodox physiology rof the day. Take first Magendie1.
Magendie's psychology was essentially that of Cabanis. The
phenomena of human intelligence he regarded as simply
functions of the brain2, and, as such, capable of being studied
only by "observation and experience." The phenomena of
the intellect were merely modifications of the 'faculty of per-
ception,' and he recognized four chief modifications : sensibility,
memory, judgment, and desire or will. Magendie himself made
an important contribution to our knowledge of the physical
basis of sensibility in his determination of the difference in
function between the anterior and posterior nerve roots. As
a result of his own work, and that of other physiologists like
Rolando and Flourens, he finds no difficulty in localizing the
principal seats of the special senses in the cerebrum and lower
centres. With these results of physiological investigation the
phrenologists seem to have been very imperfectly acquainted.
As regards memory, Magendie makes no attempt to localize it,
but refers in a curious, facing-two-ways footnote to the attempts
of the "pseudo-science" phrenology, attempts "laudable in
themselves, but hitherto unable to bear examination3."

Instincts are defined by Magendie as "propensities, inclina-
tions, wants, by which animals are constantly excited and
forced to fulfil the intentions of nature4." An instinctive
feeling, which has become "extreme and exclusive," is a passion.
Again in this connection, in a footnote, there is allusion to the
problem, at least, of phrenology, when he says : " This should
be the proper place to treat of the different parts of the brain
in regard to the understanding and instincts....! have been
engaged at intervals on experiments directed to this point,
and will make the results known, as soon as they appear worthy
of public notice5."

1 1783-1855.

2 Magendie, Elementary Compendium of Physiology. Translation by E.
Milligan, p. 109. Fourth edition, Edinburgh, 1831.

3 Op. cit., p. 113.

4 Op. cit., p. 116. Magendie's own words are: — "des penchants, des
inclinations, des besoins, au moyen desquels ils sont continuellement excites
et meme forces a remplir les intentions de la nature." (El. Phys. t. i,
p. 207.) 6 Op. cit., p. 118.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 75

Take another physiologist, Bostock, who approaches the
matter from a different point of view. He devotes a whole
chapter to a serious examination of the claims of phrenology1,
and, though he comes to the conclusion that the claims are
not substantiated, there is no ridicule. Bostock's own psy-
chology was eclectic, derived mainly from Hartley, Reid, and
Dugald Stewart, but he does not hesitate to speak of powers
and faculties, and he also attempts to localize them. His
definition of Instinct is in terms of capacity — "a capacity for
performing, by means of the voluntary organs, certain actions,
which conduce to some useful purpose, but of which purpose
the animal is itself ignorant2." This later becomes sometimes
a motive, sometimes a faculty, and is localized, in a tentative
way, in the lower brain centres3. Bostock too has evidently
a problem which is not essentially different from that of the
phrenologists.

The fact is, that, with the generally prevailing view of
Instinct, and the stage of development reached by the physio-
logical study of the brain and nervous system, the physiologist
could not help having some such problem as the phrenologist
had. The rapidity with which evidence against the conclusions
of phrenology accumulated is itself a remarkable proof of the
extent to which phrenology influenced the direction of physio-
logical investigation. As real knowledge of the cerebral cortex
extended, the motley array of faculties, with which the phreno-
logists wrought, fell more and more into the background.
Nevertheless Carpenter, in his Mental Physiology, still in 1874
localized the instincts in the 'sensory ganglia4,' just as he had
done thirty years earlier in his Human Physiology5.

At the present day the physiologist is generally inclined
to be more cautious, and merely to view Instinct in a somewhat
vague way as an innate nervous arrangement, mechanism, or
disposition. But, after all, the notion of such an organ, as
subserving instinctive activity, is not essentially different from
the notion of a definite part of the brain, as the organ performing

1 An Elementary System of Physiology, vol. in, chap. xix.

2 Op. cit., vol. in, p. 228. 3 Op. cit., vol. in, p. 232.

4 Carpenter, Mental Physiology, p. 81.

5 Human Physiology (4th ed., 1846), p. 375.

76 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

the same function. Nor is there any need to assume that
this notion, in itself, an<i physiologically regarded, is an erro-
neous one. Error will only arise, when, and if, we attempt to
explain Instinct psychologically as the functioning of this or
any such organ.

The importance of the development of biology for the
psychology of Instinct has a double source. In the first place,
this development led to an enormous increase in the facts of
animal life bearing upon Instinct, which were made available
for psychological interpretation. The development of com-
parative psychology is by no means bound up with the evolu-
tion theory, Lamarckian or Darwinian, except perhaps in so
far as it depends upon the recognition of essential continuity
between animal and human mind. Important work had been
done before the beginning of the nineteenth century, that is,
before there was any evolution theory in our modern meaning
of evolution1, by Bonnet, Reimarus2, Buffon3, Cuvier4, and
others. The same kind of work, leading to an accumulation
of facts belonging to animal psychology, went on with increased
zeal under the stimulus of the evolution theory, and such work,
represented at its best by Lubbock (Lord Avebury), Darwin,
Fabre, the Peckhams, has a value for psychology, independent
of any value it may have for a biological theory.

In the second place, the psychological interpretation of
Instinct was supplemented by the biological. This was more
especially the work of the evolutionists, but this too had its
beginning in pre-evolution biology. The common, though
erroneous, view, that the biological account of Instinct can
take the place of the psychological, has been discussed above5.
It is true that some of the biological theories of Instinct leave
no place for the psychological account, but such theories are
not now the theories generally accepted.

This erroneous view seems to have originated from the
fact that many biologists, both of the pre-evolution and of the
evolution period, have actively sought to combat a view of

1 See article "Evolution" in Encyc. Brit., llth ed.

2 1694-1768. 3 1707-1788. 4 1769-1832.
5 See chap, i, Introduction.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 77

Instinct, which has apparently been mistaken for the psycho-
logical, but which ought rather to be called the religious-
metaphysical, or, as Karl Groos calls it, the "transcendental-
teleological1." The success of these biologists in their con-
troversy is somewhat problematical, but at any rate, they
have very successfully suggested that their view of Instinct
was a new view to be substituted for this antiquated one, so
successfully that, at the present day, the suggestion is generally
accepted without any careful examination of the rights and
wrongs of the controversy.

What then is this religious-metaphysical view of Instinct?
There is more than a suspicion of it in many of the views of
Instinct we have discussed, more particularly perhaps in those
of Hume, von Hartmann, the phrenologists, but the clearest,
and at the same time the popular, form of this view is admir-
ably expressed in Addison's definition of Instinct, quoted by
Romanes2: — "I look upon instinct as upon the principle of
gravitation in bodies, which is not to be explained by any
known qualities inherent in the bodies themselves, nor from
any laws of mechanism, but as an immediate impression from
the first mover and divine energy acting in the creatures3."
In so far as such a view shuts the door against any scientific
study of Instinct, it is of course quite inadmissible, and the
psychologist, equally with the biologist, must protest. But,
in so far as such a view represents a philosophical or ultimate
view of Instinct, it does not appear that biology can touch it
at all. If there is such a thing as Instinct, the ultimate
philosophical account of it is, as we have tried to show, in an
entirely different category from the scientific biological account.

The most direct attack upon this religious-metaphysical
view of Instinct consisted in the denial or rejection of such a
conception altogether. Among older biologists Erasmus Darwin,
and among more modern Brehm4, Biichner5, Bain6, if we may

1 The Play of Animals, Engl. Trans., p. 26. 2 Animal Intelligence, p. 11.

3 See also Kirby , History, Habits, and Instin cts of A nimals (1835), and Newland,
What is Instinct? (Lond. 1916), for views which tend in a similar direction.

4 Thierleben, vol. i, p. 20.

6 Aus dem Geistesleben der Thiere, Engl. Trans., by Annie Besant.
• The Senses and the Intellect, 3rd ed. p. 409. But see also The Emotions
and the Will, pp. 53 and 613.

78 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

count him, and at one time Alfred Kussel Wallace1, have taken
this line of attack in one form or another. In some cases the
attack has been directed mainly against the notion of an innate
and unerring knowledge, and Biichner more especially empha-
sizes in this connection the mistakes of Instinct, in others
against the notion of a divine origin. Alfred Kussel Wallace
for a time took the view that so-called instinctive actions could
be explained as a result of imitation and experience. After
the publication of Darwin's Origin of Species most biologists
abandoned this line of thought, though some of the more
extreme opponents of the religious-metaphysical view con-
tinued to urge the desirability of ceasing to employ the term
c instinct,' and most of them saw in Darwin's 'natural
selection' a complete explanation of Instinct, which of course
it is not.

What of the biological account itself? The history of its
development is the history of the modern evolution theory.
The evolution theories of the eighteenth century, though they
prepared the way, were entirely superseded by the evolution
theory of Lamarck, which first saw the light in the early years
of the nineteenth century2. The fundamental principle of
this theory is the inheritance of characteristics acquired
through functional adjustment to an environment. Between
the publication of the Philosophic zoologique and 1858, when
Darwin and Wallace published their Theory of Natural Selection,
the notion of evolution, though frowned upon by the orthodox
and 'respectable' zoologists, kept appearing every now and
again in one form or another, and, with the year 1859, when
the Origin of Species came, the modern theory of evolution
may be regarded as definitely established in biology. Accord-
ing to this theory changes in the organic world, like changes in
the inorganic, take place in accordance with law ; these changes
include the gradual development and differentiation of the

1 Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection.

2 Lamarck first indicated his theory of evolution in 1801, and in his Philo-
sophie zoologique, published in 1809, he formulated the theory in detail. Trevi-
ranus apparently arrived at a theory of evolution independently and almost
simultaneously, his Biologie (at least the first volume) which contained the
theory appearing in 1802. See art. "Evolution" in Encyc. Brit., llth ed.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 79

various species of animal life; among the animal characters,
and not the least important, which have been so developed
and differentiated, is Instinct.

The evolution theories of Lamarck and Darwin really
represent two different accounts of Instinct. According to
the former Instinct is originally a character, consciously
acquired, and established as a habit, in successful adaptation
to an environment, and then transmitted to descendants,
the inherited character being subsequently modified by new
successful adaptations, which are in turn transmitted. A
complex instinct is thus due to a number of successful adapta-
tions, made at different times in the history of the race, and
transmitted as gradually changing 'race habit.' In other words
Instinct is largely "lapsed intelligence1." According to the
Darwinian view, on the other hand, Instinct is due mainly
to the operation of natural selection upon accidental or spon-
taneous variations.

The 'lapsed intelligence' view of Instinct, in some form or
another, is adopted by Ribot, by Preyer2, by Wundt3, by
Schneider4, by Herbert Spencer and others. Darwin admits
it as a possible view of the origin of some instincts but lays
chief stress upon natural selection. Romanes follows Darwin,
and distinguishes the two kinds of instinct as 'primary' and
'secondary5.'

More recently the whole notion of the inheritance of acquired
characteristics has been assailed, notably by Weismann6, and
on grounds so strong, that biologists of the present day are
inclined to give up the theory of ' lapsed intelligence ' altogether,
and to explain Instinct, as regards its origin, through the
operation of natural selection alone. There are, however, still
some difficulties, which seem to point to some kind of inheritance
of acquired characteristics after all. To meet these difficulties,
H. F. Osborn, Lloyd Morgan, and J. M. Baldwin have, still

Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind. Ribot, L'Herediie psychologique.

Die Seele des Kindes.

Vorlesungen uber die Menschen- und Tierseele.

Der thierische Wille, p. 146. Der menschliche Wille, p. 68.

Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 178.

Die Continuitat des Keimplasmas. Das Keimplasma.

80 Philosophical and Scientific Views of the [CH.

more recently, elaborated a theory of 'organic selection1/
which reintroduces the factor of individual adjustment, and
is otherwise very important in throwing a light upon the
operation of natural selection in the case of societies rather
than individuals. This theory is based upon the notion of
possible coincidence in tendency between congenital variations
and adaptive modifications, developed during an individual's
lifetime. Such adaptive modifications are those which are
produced in the individual because of their suitableness to a
particular environment, by his conscious adjustment to that
environment. Even though the adaptive modifications may
not be transmitted, the coincident congenital variations are,
and the operation of natural selection in the ordinary sense
may therefore tend to be greatly modified in the long run,
through the cumulative influence of particular elements, in the
social milieu, for example, with which the individual, in the
course of his life, may require to keep in adjustment. To
some extent the same kind of modifications would be produced
in this way, as if acquired modifications were transmitted.
It is partly through this ' organic selection ' that 'social heredity/
as Baldwin has called it, operates.

Such may be considered to be the general outcome of the
biological account of the development of instincts, and the
fundamental importance of Darwin's work must be recognized.
But Darwin did not attempt a biological account of Instinct
itself, in fact, deliberately avoids the issue2, that is, he did not
define the view which the biologist, as such, must take of the
nature of Instinct. Consequently, though all biologists are
now practically agreed as to the general mode in which instincts
originate and develop, there is by no means agreement with
regard to the view which the biologist ought to take of Instinct.
Two views are still in the field. On the one hand is the view
of those who, while not denying that intelligence may cooperate
with Instinct in certain cases, hold that "the idea of conscious-
ness must be rigidly excluded from any definition of instinct

1 See Science, 1896, April 23rd, 1897; Nature, April 15th, 1897; Groos,
Play of Animal* (trans.), p. 329 ; Mental Development in the Child and the If ace;
Social and Ethical Interpretations.

2 Origin of Species (5th ed., 1869), p. 255.

in] Nature and Meaning of Instinct 81

that is to be of practical utility1." On the other hand is the
view of Komanes and those who think with him, that Instinct
cannot be distinguished from reflex action, unless the idea of
consciousness or experience is introduced. The dispute seems
to arise partly from the old difficulty of the knowledge apparently
involved in Instinct, and partly from the fact that the psycho-
logists have taken a share in the discussion, and are, many of
them, now as eager to exclude the term l instinct' from psy-
chology, as the biologists, not very long since, were eager to
exclude it from biology.

Leaving some of these points for discussion later, in so far
as they are psychological points, we may, in th^jmeantime,
simply sum up the result of both the physiological and the
biological Developments of the nineteenth century in a definition
of Instinct, which will represent both physiology and biology,
and which, as far as it goes, would probably be accepted by
both physiologist and biologist. Such a definition may be
worded thus : — As a factor determining the behaviour of living
organisms, Instinct, physiologically regarded, is a congenital
predisposition of the nervous system, consisting in a definite,
but within limits modifiable, arrangement and coordination of
nervous connections, so that a particular stimulus, with or
without the presence of certain cooperating stimuli, will call
forth a particular action or series of actions ; this predisposition,
biologically regarded, is apparently due to the operation of
natural selection, and determines a mode of behaviour, which
secures a biologically useful end, without foresight of that end
or experience in attaining it. Such a definition appears to
represent in a fairly satisfactory way the outcome of the
physiological and biological study of Instinct, and leaves the
psychological questions as open as possible.

1 Karl Groos, The Play of Animals (Engl. trans.), p. 62.

D.

CHAPTER IV

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL NATURE OF INSTINCT—
THE 'KNOWLEDGE' OF INSTINCT

Modern Philosophy, so far as it has been psychological,
has largely confined itself to the study of cognition, and twice
in the course of its history has led to its own reductio ad absur-
dum. The "ideal system" of Descartes, as Reid called it, led
to the scepticism of Hume; the new beginning in cognition
of an essentially similar philosophy, in the Critical Philosophy
of Kant, led to the Absolutism of Hegel, which must equally be
regarded as its refutation. Reid sought to escape Hume's scepti-
cism by a new starting-point in what he rather unfortunately
called " Common Sense," just as Schopenhauer sought to escape
Hegelianism by a new start in the notion of reality as "Will,"
rather than as "Idea." It will be noticed that, in all cases,
psychological notions seem to have afforded the basis for an
ultimate metaphysic. So accustomed have we become to this
way of looking at philosophy, that it comes as a genuine shock
of surprise to find Bergson founding his philosophy upon
biological, rather than psychological, conceptions. Bergson's
philosophy may nevertheless be a genuine advance in the
direction in which Modern Philosophy was moving.

A few years ago it seemed as if the Critical Philosophy
represented the culmination of the philosophical thought of
the modern world. To-day it is becoming ever clearer that
the Critical Philosophy, if it was not a false step, was at any
rate a side issue in post-Renaissance thought, and that the real
achievement of Modern Philosophy is still to come. Moreover,
there is increasing likelihood that, when this achievement does
come, it will be apparent that Reid's "Common Sense,"
Schopenhauer's "Will" and Bergson's "Life Impulse" have
been as significant advances as Kant's transcendental principles.

CH. iv] The ' Knowledge ' of Instinct 83

However that may be, there can be no doubt that the
return of psychology to the study of the whole of experience,
instead of one aspect of it, and that an aspect which has no
meaning apart from the rest, is full of promise for psychology,
if not for philosophy. The reductio ad absurdum of philosophy
was no less a reductio ad absurdum of psychology, if psychology
is the science of experience as such, and of experience as
determining behaviour. The psychology, which set out from
thought in isolation, returned to thought in isolation, but did
not seem ever to reach experience in its life setting.

We must regard Fichte's and Schopenhauer's as valuable
attempts to get to living experience, but the psychology itself
was not wrought out as a psychology. At the present time we
seem to have a still more fundamental starting-point offered us
in the "life impulse" of Bergson, a starting-point that is behind
the Ego, and behind Will. It is necessary, before accepting such
a starting-point, to determine whether psychology can adopt as
its starting-point something which is perhaps itself outside
experience, and, if so, whether this is the starting-point it can
with most advantage adopt.

We have already1 taken up the position, in connection with
psychology, that the psychologist is entitled to frame hypotheses
which go beyond the facts of experience themselves, if such
hypotheses are necessary to account for the facts psychologically.
That is a right claimed by all sciences. The ultimate meaning
of such a hypothesis is of course the concern of philosophy.
Hence the legitimacy of some such starting-point as Bergson's
"life impulse" cannot be questioned, always provided that these
conditions are satisfied. The difficulty is as regards the way
in which such a hypothesis should be formulated, in order to
be of use psychologically. It would be an easy matter, without
hypothesis at all, to substitute for the Cartesian "cogito, ergo
sum," some such principle as "I am living, therefore life exists."
But it is not easy to see how such a principle could carry us
very far in philosophy, and its use in psychology is not very
obvious. Psychology has as its task the explanation of experi-
ence and of behaviour in terms of experience. One essential

1 See above, p. 12.

6—2

84 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

characteristic of any starting-point, unless it is one forced on
the psychologist, is that it should further the psychological
explanation of experience and of behaviour.

That we have an experience of living seems to be a fact.
The simplest hypothesis, based upon this fact, is that experience
depends upon life. Such a hypothesis, expressed in this form,
is not very obviously either a helpful one or a necessary one.
But it can be modified so as to become helpful, and, we believe,
necessary. In a great part of our experience, possibly in all,
we experience ourselves as active. Our whole notion of activity
arises from this experience. Not only when we experience
impulse, or desire, or endeavour, have we this experience of
being active, but also when we perceive, when we imagine,
when we judge, when we reason. A very strong case — which
we do not mean to argue at present — can be made for the view,
that our whole experience is determined by an activity which
is also experienced, but which does not arise from experience.
For the origin of this activity we must look, as it were, behind
experience. Assuming meanwhile that this view is sound-
its justification will appear as we proceed — we seem to find
that some kind of hypothesis becomes necessary at this point,
and our hypothesis is that this activity, which we experience,
but which also determines experience, is the 'life impulse'
become conscious in us.

Another condition which the hypothesis, furnishing the
starting-point of any science, must satisfy is that it should,
at any rate, be a possible way of regarding actual phenomena,
that is, that it should not contradict other known facts, laws,
or principles, but rather should be capable of being harmonized
with them, or even of throwing further light upon them, that,
in short, it should represent a possible, if provisional, way of
regarding the world of reality, when looked at from the stand-
point of philosophy. It is of course clear that the most extra-
vagant hypotheses could be framed by the human imagination,
and organized structures of thought built upon such hypotheses,
which would represent science for those imaginary worlds to
which the hypotheses could apply, but only for such worlds.
Hence the necessity for this further condition or criterion,

iv] The l Knowledge ' of Instinct 85

by which the legitimacy of the hypotheses of any real science
must be judged.

Now the hypothesis of a 'life impulse' becoming conscious
in experienced activity, and determining experience itself, also
satisfies this condition. The existence of such a life impulse
is taken for granted in biology, may even be said to be the main
topic discussed by biology, and physiology no less assumes it,
while seeking to explain it. Philosophy also recognizes this
as a way of looking at a part, at least, of the universe. On all
grounds such a hypothesis can be more easily justified than the
hypothesis of psycho-physical parallelism, which has long" been
adopted, almost without question, as a psychological hypothesis.
Besides such a hypothesis saves us from requiring to talk of
'soul,' which it may ultimately be necessary for the psychologist
to postulate, but which we do not apparently require to postulate
in order to explain our facts, if we are allowed this simpler
hypothesis of a 'life impulse.'

Let us consider this hypothesis as provisionally admitted,
and try to apply it in order to get a definite idea of what Instinct
really is, as far as the universe of discourse of psychology is
concerned, that is to say, what the meaning of the term 'instinct'
is to be for psychology. As we have already seen, most of the
older psychologists recognized that there are certain deter-
minate conscious impulses, which are experienced as impulses,
but of the origin of which, as impulses, experience can afford
us no explanation. Take, for example, as Hutcheson does, the
anger impulse. Why should the pain, say of a blow, deter-
mine us to retaliate, rather than to relieve the pain? Experi-
ence cannot answer. Or again, why should the sight of a
certain object determine A, who has had no previous experience
of such objects, to approach it, with a view to getting to know
more about it, while B, who has had previous experience of
similar objects, withdraws as hastily as possible? At the same
time A has the emotional experience we call curiosity, B that
which we call fear. We might possibly say that B's impulse and
emotional experience were due to previous experience, but
surely not A's. Really B's impulse is as little explicable from
previous experience as A's. C, who has also had previous

86 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

experience of such objects, and a similar experience to A, may
attack and destroy it, experiencing at the same time the emo-
tional experience we call anger or hate. Moreover, if A, B, and
C are animals belonging to different species, we may have each
showing the characteristic behaviour of a different one of the
three impulses, on the perception of an object, never met
before by any one of them. In this case we should have no
hesitation in calling the impulses instinctive in all three cases.

But what should we mean psychologically by calling them
instinctive? One answer is, that, by calling them instinctive,
we mean that they are determined by heredity. That is to
say ' instinctive ' = ' determined by heredity.' This is not
satisfactory. It is tantamount to saying that we are speaking
biologically, and not psychologically, when we call such impulses
instinctive, for 'heredity9 is a biological conception, and to
use it in this connection and context appears to imply the
failure, at this point, of our psychological explanation of experi-
ence. There is a further objection. To speak of an ' instinctive
impulse,' meaning this by * instinctive,' is apparently to speak
of a phenomenon which is neither biological nor psychological.
The term 'impulse' indicates here a psychological phenomenon.
Instinctive behaviour may be discussed by biology, but ' instinc-
tive impulse' must be denned by psychology, if it is capable of
definition at all.

Instead of avoiding the issue in this way by an appeal to
biology, it is evidently the duty of the psychologist to attempt
a description of 'instinctive impulse' in terms of experience.
The first step towards this is the psychological analysis of the
experience as a whole, of which the instinctive impulse is a
constituent. A first analysis yields us three factors, perception
or cognition of an object, which we can denote by x, conscious
impulse in relation to that object, which we may denote by y,
and a feeling element correlated with both x and y, which we
shall call z. The whole psychosis may then be denoted by
xyz, the factors all determining one another, and being also
determined on the one side by the nature of an object, on the
other side by the life activity of the experiencer.

An example from ordinary life will perhaps make clear the

iv] The ' Knowledge ' of Instinct 87

way in which the three factors must be related to one another.
I am going a walk. Passing the hall-stand, I perceive my
walking-stick and grasp it. At the time of perceiving the
walking-stick, I had the impulse to grasp it in order to take it
with me. The psychosis was, let us say a'b'c', where a' is an
apprehended walking-stick, b' an impulse to grasp it, c' a faint
accompanying interest in walking-sticks, a' being determined
partly by the actual object before me, b' and c' partly by my
intention at the moment, the intention of going for a walk. But
it is not difficult to show that the intention at the moment
also partly determines a', and that the nature of the object
partly determines b' and c' . On a lonely part of the road I am
attacked by a tramp. I now apprehend the walking-stick as
a suitable weapon of defence, and use it accordingly. The
psychosis at the moment when I apprehend, as a weapon, the
object, which I originally apprehended as a walking-stick, may
be denoted by a"b"c", where a" is an apprehended weapon,
and is determined partly by the nature of the object but partly,
like b" and c", by the 'intention' at the moment, and where
b" is an impulse to use a weapon of defence, and c" an interest
in weapons, both determined partly by the 'intention' at the
moment, but partly also by the nature of the object apprehended
as a". In crossing a bridge, my cap blows oil into a stream.
I now apprehend the object, which was previously apprehended
as a' and a", as a hook, which will enable me to draw the
cap out, impulse and interest being concomitantly changed,
and the new psychosis being a'"b"rc'". One and the same
object has thus been apprehended as a walking-stick, a club,
and a hook. In ordinary life I call the object a walking-stick,
but only because that is its ordinary function. In the dynamic
of living experience, the apprehended object changes with the
impulse and the interest, but no less the impulse and the
interest change with the nature of the apprehended object.
The main point we wish to make at present is that the total
psychosis, the experience at any moment, is determined
partly by the nature of the object, but partly also by the
need of the individual at that moment, manifesting itself
in experience as impulse, with a correlated feeling or interest,

88 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

and further that all the elements in the psychosis are deter-
mined both by the nature of the object and the need of the
moment.

Experience is essentially bipolar, with a bipolarity analogous
to the subject-object bipolarity of cognition, but a bipolarity
which can only be conceived in dynamic terms. The psychosis
mediates between an object and a living being. Its determining
factors are the nature of the object and the activity of the
living being — what we are calling the 'life impulse.' May we
not, for psychological purposes, regard experience in some such
way as this1? A conscious being, as conscious, is capable of
being affected in a characteristic way by the nature of objects.
This affection by the nature of an object, considered by itself,
we may term ' sensation.' A conscious being, as conscious, is
also capable of experiencing the 'life impulse,' when it becomes
a particular conscious impulse. But undefined conscious
impulse is an abstraction, as is also pure sensation. In the
living experience, which the psychologist must describe and
explain, the sensation, depending upon the nature of the object,
is determined by the conscious impulse as perception or cogni-
tion of an object — or perhaps it is better to say situation — and
at the same time the conscious impulse becomes a particular
conscious impulse with regard to that perceived object or
situation.

Now we are proposing to call the conscious impulse
'Instinct1,' when and so far as it is not itself determined by
previous experience, but only determined in experience, while
itself determining experience, in conjunction with the nature
of objects or situations determining experience as sensation.
This is what Instinct seems to be psychologically. Instinct
is the 'life impulse,' becoming conscious as determinate con-
scious impulse. But this, in itself, is only one side of the
psychological fact, and an abstraction. The other side — also
an abstraction — is sensation. The psychological fact itself is
experience in its lowest terms.

This involves an important conclusion at the very outset.

1 Cf. McDougall, "Instinct and Intelligence," in British Journal of Psycho-
logy, vol. in, p. 258.

iv] The ' Knowledge ' of Instinct 89

The ground of experience is intelligence or mind. Popularly
actions are called instinctive, when what we may call the
potency of experience is low, intelligent, when it is high. But
psychologically Instinct and Intelligence cannot be placed in
opposition. The potency of experience will vary with the
degree of intelligence. But the degree of intelligence is simply
the degree of ' psychical integration1.' The primary ' psychical
integration' is the integration of instinct and sensation in the
rudimentary and fundamental experience of a determinate
conscious impulse, defined by a perceived situation or object,
and correlated with a feeling, which we may for the present
describe as ' worth whileness.'

With this view of Instinct, let us next attempt to give a
more detailed account of the various elements involved in the
'instinct-experience,' and to solve some of the difficulties,
which recent discussions of Instinct have revealed and made
prominent. We may appropriately begin with the cognitive
element. The nature of the cognitive element will be best
brought out by a consideration, first of all, of the view of
Instinct put forward by Bergson2, which however does not
differ very materially from the view of Instinct we have already
described as von Hartmann's.

Bergson seems to have set cut from some such notion of
Instinct as ours, but, apparently under the influence of the
long-standing and popular opposition between Instinct and
Intelligence, he finally reaches the position that Instinct and
Intelligence represent entirely different developments of con-
scious life, the most characteristic difference between them
being the different kinds of 'knowledge' which they represent,
or which constitute their content. This difference in kind of
knowledge is analogous to, if not identical with, the difference
Jfc|ween intuitive and conceptual knowledge.

^In order to understand this position psychologically, it
seems necessary to get a clear idea of what is to be understood
by 'intuitive knowledge.' The claim is that Instinct and

1 This term is used in a sense analogous to that in which Sherrington uses
'nervous" and "cerebral integration." See Integrative Action of the Nervous

System, especially Lect. ix.

2 Creative Evolution, chap. n.

90 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

Intelligence mediate different orders of knowledge. Apparently
then we must seek to determine the psychological nature of
intuitive knowledge, that is of intuition, for only here is there
a psychological problem at all. That the one knowledge is
reached as a result of experience, and the activity of Intelligence
working on experience, and the other knowledge is a knowledge,
which is not based upon experience at all, though it determines
experience, is a contention which can only be met by the
psychologist, after he has examined, in the first place, the
process called 'intuition/ and, in the second place, the so-
illed 'intuitive knowledge' of Instinct.

What is intuition from the psychological point of view?
Is it a way of knowing reality, different from other ways, and
sui generis'1. That is apparently our first question. Intro-
spection ought to be able to settle the matter once for all, so
far as 'intuition' describes a certain mode of experiencing.
Intuition, we all agree, is direct apprehension of some reality,
of some real situation. Perception is also direct apprehension
of a real object or situation. Is there any difference between
the two? As ordinarily used and understood, intuition
certainly involves more than perception, as bare cognition.
Intuition is always perception of that thing in particular,
which at the particular moment is the one thing needed, and
hence the peculiar 'satisfyingness,' which is so characteristic
of it.

Let us take some examples of intuition. A sudden situation
presents itself in perceptual experience; we apprehend 'intui-
tively' the very object, which meets the needs of the case, and
we act upon or with that object 'instinctively.' Again, we
have mislaid something we require, and are groping in our
memories for some suggestion or clue; the clue flashes upon
us suddenly in a remembered past event, which determines at
once the place of the required something. Again, we are
striving to find some conceptual law or principle, which will
unite and organize a number of particular facts in some domain
of science; in a moment, as it were, we apprehend the key
relation, and the mass of discrete particulars is organized. All
these are cases of what we call intuition.

iv] The 'Knowledge' of Instinct 91

We might go on giving instances of what is usually called
intuition from art, from philosophy, from the practical life
of commerce or industry. In every case we should find the
same elements present, an object, situation, or relation appre-
hended or perceived, and apprehended as the very object,
situation, or relation we require at the particular moment.
Intuition is then perception, but something more ; it is Reid's
'belief,' but something more. That 'something more' is,
however, nothing mystical or occult. It is merely a pronounced
feeling element, 'satisfyingness,' determined by the merging
of the impulse of the moment in its required object, a pro-
nounced feeling element that will only arise, when there has
been previously a glow of 'worthwhileness,' accompanied by
an experienced 'tension.'

What of intuitive knowledge? Intuition, if this analysis
is correct, cannot yield a new and unique kind of knowledge.
Intuitive knowledge is perceptual knowledge, qualified, if you
like, by a feeling of its value and significance at the moment,
but not thereby altered in its cognitive aspect. We can dis-
tinguish, on the cognitive side of mind, three grades or levels
of intelligence, the perceptual level, the level of ideal represen-
tation, and the level of conceptual thought. Intuition may
appear at all levels. So also may perception. One level is
not superseded by the development of a higher level. Moreover
the difference in levels is merely a difference in the degree of
'psychical integration'1 that is possible, and a corresponding
difference in the possible range of perception or of intuition.
At the perceptual level perception and intuition are limited
to sense perception, and the immediate apprehension of a
presented situation, in the 'psychical integration' of impulse
or interest and determining or satisfying sensation. At the
second level the range of both is extended, owing to a ' psychical
integration,' which includes the representation of past situations
and of objects not immediately presented. There seems no
object in confining perception, any more than intuition, to

1 Sturt comes very near the idea of 'psychical integration' in this context
by his 'noesis' or 'noetic synthesis.' See Principles of Understanding, especially
chaps, in, vin, ix, x.

92 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

sense perception, for the immediate apprehension of a single
and simple real is perception, whether the real be presented
or ideally represented. The same principle holds of the third
level. Conceptual thought involves analysis as well as syn-
thesis, and therefore it involves the immediate apprehension
of objects presented or represented, as well as of relations
between objects. Here, too, apprehension of a single and
simple real, whether object or relation, is perception. In all
cases, the perception which glows with ' worthwhileness ' and
' satisf yingness ' is also intuition.

Bergson cites the knowledge displayed by the solitary wasp,
Ammophila, in its action on its caterpillar prey, as an illus-
tration of the nature and perfection of the * intuitive knowledge '
of Instinct1. According to Fabre's observations, which Bergson
accepts, the Ammophila stings its prey exactly and unerringly
in each of the nervous centres. The result is that the cater-
pillar is paralysed, but not immediately killed, the advantage
of this being, that the larva cannot be injured by any move-
ments of the caterpillar, upon which the egg is deposited, and
is provided with fresh meat when the time comes.

Now Dr and Mrs Peckham2 have shown, that the sting of
the wasp is not unerring, as Fabre alleges, that the number of
stings is not constant, that sometimes the caterpillar is not
paralysed, and sometimes it is killed outright, and that the
different circumstances do not apparently make any difference
to the larva, which is not injured by slight movements of the
caterpillar, nor by consuming as food decomposed rather than
fresh caterpillar.

Lloyd Morgan3 is inclined to hold with Bergson, that it does
not much matter for Bergson's thesis, whether the wasp " acts
like a learned entomologist and a skilled surgeon rolled into
one," or not. But it does matter. If the facts are not as
stated by Fabre, and by Bergson following Fabre, then calling
the instinct a "paralysing instinct" seems to be largely a
begging of the question, and very little is left in the illustration,

1 Creative Evolution, p. 182.

2 Wasps, Social and Solitary, chap. n.

3 Instinct and Experience, p. 223. But see for the opposite view the same
writer in British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 226.

iv] The ' Knowledge ' of Instinct 93

that is relevant to the hypothesis, in support of which it is
cited.

We can call the instinct an example of 'sympathetic insight,'
if we like, but there is really no proof that knowledge in any
sense, sympathetic or other, is implied at all, any more than
knowledge of the nature of chlorine is implied in the ammonia
that selects it out of the air and combines with it to form
ammonium chloride. Perhaps it may be argued that this is
too extreme a statement, and that, in the case of Ammophila
and her caterpillar, vital processes at least are involved. Even
conceding this, we are still far from anything that can be called
knowledge, for a reflex action, like that of the heart or of the
stomach, is also a vital process, but hardly any one would
maintain that it involves sympathetic knowledge. The rootlets
of a plant select and absorb the elements of the soil, necessary
to the growth of the plant. Do they exhibit sympathetic or
intuitive knowledge in doing so?

For all we know to the contrary, the stinging of the cater-
pillar by the wasp may be due simply to reflexes, stimulated
by the contact of the caterpillar, and the places in which the
stings are given determined partly by accident, and partly by
the shapes of the two bodies — that is, for all we know to the
contrary, in the established facts among the total mass of
presumed facts cited by Bergson. If we take the whole
hunting of the caterpillar by the wasp, from the first view to
the final sting, the case is not in the least altered, unless we
can show definitely that consciousness or experience must have
been present, to account for facts actually observed. In the
mere process of stinging, as carefully described by the Peckhams,
no such fact appears to be involved.

If 'knowledge' represents a psychological phenomenon at
all, if it is to be possible to attach a psychological meaning to
the knowledge of Instinct, the hunting instinct of Ammophila
and similar instincts, must be described and interpreted in
quite different terms. Further, if the knowledge of Instinct
is of the nature of intuitive knowledge, and if intuition, as we
have shown or at least tried to show, is essentially perception,
as far as its cognitive aspect is concerned, then the knowledge

94 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

of Instinct must be interpreted psychologically as of the nature
of perceptual knowledge, and the working out of an instinct
is accompanied by what is essentially nothing more than
perceptual experience, perceptual experience at the first level,
with the lowest degree of 'psychical integration.'

How far can we interpret the facts from this point of view ?
Every act of Ammophila, in the working out of its hunting
instinct, to take this as an example of the whole type of instinct
to which it belongs, is either accompanied by perceptual ex-
perience, or is of the reflex order, that is, without the interven-
tion of experience. Let us assume that all the acts, in place
of only a few of them, as may be really the case, are accompanied
by perceptual experience. If they were all of the reflex order,
then we should have merely a compound reflex, and no instinct
at all. It must be noted, however, that such compound reflex
would fit into Bergson's theory of Instinct as well as anything
else. The instinctive impulse, which we may denote by F,
starting the whole movement, so to speak, enters consciousness
as /, on perception a of, let us say, certain organic sensations,
indicating certain coming changes, in the body of Ammophila,
associated with the depositing of the egg. Act XI follows,
the result of which, that is the situation which supervenes
upon the act, apprehended as b, determines a new particular
impulse m, and action X2 follows, the result of which in turn,
apprehended as c, determines a third particular impulse n,
and action X3 follows, and so on. We have therefore the
underlying impulse F, which may be regarded as really the
instinct from the philosophical, or even from the biological
point of view, appearing successively as I, m, n, o, ..., according
as it is determined by percepts — or intuitions, if that word is
preferred — a, 6, c, d, ..., and a chain of actions, constituting
the instinctive behaviour XI, X2, X3, X4=, .... In the mean-
time we are leaving the feeling element out of account, because
it does not appear to be significant for our present purpose.

We might have such a series as XI, X2, X3, Xky ..., as a
chain of reflexes, the end of one action stimulating the begin-
ning of the next. As we have just said, such a chain of reflexes
will suit Bergson's view quite as well, for we might speak of it

iv] The l Knowledge ' of Instinct 95

figuratively, as representing, on the part of nature or of life,
a perfect insight or intuitive knowledge. But how do we know
that the hunting instinct of Ammophila, or any such instinct,
is not of this description? How do we know that the other
series are present? We know that XI, X2, X3, X4, ..., is not
a series of reflexes, because we get evidence in the behaviour
itself of the intervention of experience at certain points — we
are assuming at all points for the sake of simplicity of exposi-
tion— and we get evidence, or may get evidence, of the presence
of both the other series. Close observation of the wasp dis-
closes that it is not the action XI that stimulates to X2, but
the presentation of a certain situation, giving rise to perception
b. For example, the action may be completed without the
normal situation appearing as a result. Or we may interfere
in such ways as to produce repetition of certain actions over
and over again, by altering the situation so as to give percep-
tion b over and over again1. In fact it is not at all difficult
to convince ourselves by experience that there is a series
#, 6, c, d, .... But we can also, though it is slightly more diffi-
cult, occasionally modify the series Z, m, n, o, ..., by interfering
at any point with the underlying impulse Y, working itself out.
For example we may produce a new underlying impulse Z,
for which the situations presented as a, 6, c, d, ..., either have
no meaning, or have a different meaning, say a', b', c', d'. Even
though we could not actually produce this change, it could
still be shown that the series I, m, n, o, . . . , is psychologically
necessary to explain the facts psychologically, that is on the
basis of our own experience.

A close parallel for the kind of behaviour, which character-
izes the hunting instinct of Ammophila, as we are interpreting
it, as well as all similar instincts, including even such instincts
as the nest-building of birds, is to be found, in the case of
human beings, in a series of acts like those involved in riding
a bicycle through a crowded thoroughfare. This series has
of course been learned, but, when learned, it involves, as far
as experience is concerned, a fundamental impulse, generally
not itself experienced, a mental setting, determined from time

1 Examples will be found in the cases of instinctive behaviour cited later.

96 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

to time by the perceptual apprehension of situations, as a
series of particular conscious impulses, and determining a suc-
cession of corresponding acts. The consciousness, or experience,
or mind, involved, is merely a series of sparks or flashes, light-
ing up a particular cross-road, so to speak, at the moment
when the choice between roads must be made.

It now becomes possible for us to see more clearly what
the development of intelligence, in connection with the working
out of an instinctive impulse, involves, and what is meant by
degree of 'psychical integration/ A chain of acts, XI, X2, ...
Xn, constituting a course of behaviour, may be simply a chain
of reflexes, in which case the process, once started, works itself
out inevitably from XI to Xn, and, apart from any possible
results of organic adaptability, is practically unmodifiable. In
such a case there could be no unequivocal evidence that any
consciousness or experience was present. If, however, the
course of behaviour is instinctive, and not reflex, then, at some
point or points, between XI and X2, X2 and X3, or X3 and J£4,
there is a spark or flash of perceptual experience, a psychical
relating or integrating of particular impulse and particular sensa-
tion determined by the situation at the moment. At that point,
or those points, the behaviour will no longer be unmodifiable,
since there it is not mechanically but psychically determined.

Such is the lowest stage in the development of mind or
intelligence, the lowest degree of 'psychical integration.' The
first traces of mind are in the nature of sparks or flashes of
perceptual consciousness, psychically relating particular impulse
and particular situation. Wherever this spark of perceptual
consciousness appears, the action of the animal is modifiable,
but only after the activity up to that point has run its course.
The whole subsequent course of behaviour may obviously be
modified as a result. The first development of intelligence
may take place at the same level, by a mere multiplication of
the sparks or flashes of perceptual consciousness, so that ulti-
mately every act in the chain may become modifiable, but
only after the previous act has been performed. This is the
stage at which we assumed the hunting instinct of Ammophila
had arrived.

iv] The i Knowledge ' of Instinct 97

At the next level of intelligence the spark has become a
glow. In place of the psychical relating of a to x, there is a
relating of a to b and c, and therefore to y and z, which is not
a conceptual or noetic relating, but which is nevertheless
psychical, and which manifests itself in experience by antici-
pation of, or preparation for, what is coming, rather than by
purposive determination of what is to come. Or we may say
a becomes a sign of c, z begins to be acted at x. Perceptual
consciousness is no longer confined to presentative, but con-
tains also representative elements. Any evidence as basis for
inference from observed behaviour to experience may be more
or less equivocal at the first level; at the second level the
inference is practically certain. If an animal's behaviour is
determined, not by a as such, but by a as the sign of some
result, already experienced in similar situations, as the sign
of something coming, not by the * primary' meaning alone
of a, but by 'secondary,' as well as 'primary' meaning, the
only possible inference seems to be that the animal is capable
of a 'psychical integration,' including more than the immediate
experience, referring back to what has been experienced, and
forward to what is coming. Again there are grades of intelli-
gence at this level, according to the range of the 'psychical
integration,' according to the extent, so to speak, consciousness
is capable of lighting up1.

At the third level of intelligence there is 'noetic' relating
and synthesis of the perceptual elements, to one another and
in a conceptual whole, whereby the underlying impulse itself,
rather than the separate particular impulses, may become
clearly conscious, in its relation to the final term of the series,
which has become conscious end. The range of 'psychical
integration' may thus become practically unlimited, since the
relation and the synthesis are general, and not particular.
The highest degree of 'psychical integration' we find in the
human being, but again there are differences in degree in
different individuals, and these differences are also differences
of intelligence. In all cases man is capable, though in degrees,
of looking before and after. He foresees the end from the

1 Cf. Hobhouse, Mind in Evolution, chap. vi.
D.

98 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

beginning, and — we are speaking of the ideal, rather than the
real human being — in all its relations. Consequently he is
independent of the intervening presentations, except in so far
as these are necessarily involved, and he sees that they are
necessarily involved, in the attainment of the end.

Another way in which the degree of 'psychical integration'
may be regarded is its relation to time order or succession in pre-
sentations. The higher the degree, the greater the independence
of time order of the behaviour. This seems to indicate, in the
limiting case, the entire independence of time of the behaviour
guided by perfect 'psychical integration.' Schopenhauer's
assertion of the timelessness of instinctive knowledge1 is thus
paralleled by a similar statement with regard to the behaviour
controlled by perfect conceptual knowledge. Do beginning
and end coincide ?

The statement, that the cognitive element in instinct-
experience is perceptual and nothing more, does not quite meet
the needs of the case. It must be conceded that no sufficient
evidence has yet been adduced, to show that this is the only
kind of instinct-knowledge the psychologist can recognize.
Writers of the most diverse views, from Lord Herbert of
Cherbury to von Hartmann and Bergson, have stated that
Instinct itself involves a knowledge, and they all mean more
than the perceptual cognition accompanying instinctive be-
haviour. Moreover there are three aspects of Bergson's treat-
ment of Instinct, a philosophical aspect, which does not
concern us in the meantime, a psychological aspect, and a
biological aspect. Though the alleged ' knowledge ' of Instinct
still demands further consideration, it would naturally leave
the reader with an uneasy sense, that the discussion so far was
incomplete, unsatisfactory, and misleading, were we entirely
to ignore the biological aspect, and we may besides find in
this biological aspect something which will help us to a just
view of the further psychological question.

Biology studies the behaviour of living organisms from the
objective point of view. According to Bergson's view, the
behaviour of an "unintelligent animal" is the using of "an

1 See above, p. 65.

iv] The ' Knowledge ' of Instinct 99

instrument that forms part of its body" by "an instinct that
knows how to use it1." Let us see what the biologist himself
says. Romanes defines instinctive behaviour as "conscious
and adaptive action, antecedent to individual experience,
without necessary knowledge of relation between means em-
ployed and ends attained, but similarly performed, under
similar and frequently recurring circumstances, by all the indi-
viduals of the same species2."

Apparent knowledge without experience, skill without
learning, actions adapted to an end without prevision of the
end, these are the characteristics of instinctive behaviour.
Spalding and Lloyd Morgan's observations and experiments
with chicks, Fabre's observations on insects, afford numerous
instances of these characteristics3. Spalding hooded chicks,
immediately after he had removed them from the egg, and
kept them hooded for periods varying from one to three days,
his object being to eliminate any possibility of learning by
experience, imitation, or instruction. On unhooding them, he
found, that "often at the end of two minutes they followed
with their eyes the movements of crawling insects, turning
their heads with all the precision of an old fowl. In from two
to fifteen minutes they pecked at some speck or insect, showing
not merely an instinctive perception of distance, but an original
ability to judge, to measure distance, with something like
infallible accuracy. They did not attempt to seize things
beyond their reach, as babies are said to grasp at the moon;
and they may be said to have invariably hit the objects at
which they struck — they never missed by more than a hair's
breadth, and that too, when the specks at which they aimed
were no bigger, and less visible, than the smallest dot of an i.
To seize between the points of the mandibles at the very instant
of striking seemed a more difficult operation. I have seen a
chicken seize and swallow an insect at the first attempt ; most
frequently, however, they struck five or six times, lifting once
or twice before they succeeded in swallowing their first food....

1 Creative Evolution, p. 146.

2 Animal Intelligence, p. 17.

3 Article in Macmillan's Magazine, Feb. 1873. Quoted by Romanes,
Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 161-2.

7—2

100 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

A chicken that had been made the subject of experiments on
hearing was unhooded when nearly three days old.... For
twenty minutes it sat on the spot, where its eyes had been un-
veiled, without attempting to walk a step. It was then placed
on rough ground within sight and call of a hen with a brood of
its own age. After standing chirping for about a minute, it
started off towards the hen, displaying as keen a perception
of the qualities of the outer world as it was ever likely to possess
in after life. It never required to knock its head against a
stone to discover that there was 'no road that way.' It leaped
over the smaller obstacles that lay in its path and ran round
the larger, reaching the mother in as nearly a straight line as
the nature of the ground would permit. This, let it be remem-
bered, was the first time it had ever walked by sight."

Waiving for a moment the question of the apparent know-
ledge, involved in behaviour of the kind here described, let us
examine the behaviour itself. The first question that presents
itself is, whether there is anything in such behaviour, apart,
that is, from any modification or learning due to experience,
to differentiate it from behaviour or activities, with which,
as such, the psychologist has no concern, like reflex action,
or unconscious functional organic processes. "Reflex action,"
says Romanes, "is non-mental, neuro-muscular adaptation
to appropriate stimuli1." It is possible, he continues, only
theoretically to draw the line between instinctive and reflex
action. The difficulty of drawing a distinction arises from the
fact, that "on the objective side there is no distinction to be
drawn2." If we accept this statement, and there is every
reason that we should, seeing that it is a statement upon which
most biologists would be agreed, it seems to imply, that the
necessary bodily structure (using 'structure' widely), for the
carrying out of such actions, can be developed by heredity,
through the operation of natural selection. This view is
confirmed by Herbert Spencer's definition of Instinct as com-
pound reflex action.

Objectively considered, then, instinctive behaviour, as de-
scribed by Spalding, and generally characterized by Bergson,

1 Animal Intelligence, p. 11. 2 Op. cit., p. 12.

iv] The ' Knowledge ' of Instiwt 101

may be regarded as merely the functioning of a complex organic
structure. Essentially, therefore, it does not seem to be
different from the functioning of the kings in breathing, or
the digestive apparatus in digesting. It is the modifiability
of the behaviour, a modifiability, according to Romanes,
depending upon consciousness or experience, that differentiates
it from these other forms of functional activity. Since this
modifiability depends upon experience, a psychological pheno-
menon, it is, qua experience, that instinctive behaviour claims
the attention of the psychologist. This is indeed a decision
to which we had previously come, but at this point it clears
the way for our final psychological problem in connection with
Bergson's view.

What then of the apparent instinctive or innate knowledge
displayed ? There are many ways in which we might approach
the problem involved here. We might refer once more to reflex
action, or to the digestive functioning of the digestive apparatus,
and point out that these also display the same kind of evidence
of knowledge or insight into the true inwardness of things and
relations. But, assuming that von Hartmann's 'clairvoyance'
and Bergson's 'intuitive knowledge' can be regarded as psycho-
logical phenomena, we may meet the contention in another way.
We may hold, with Hobhouse, that imputing 'innate concep-
tion ' to an animal " is to infer, on the ground of actions similar
to those of man, an intellectual method opposed to that of
man1." Bergson's answer is that instinctive knowledge is
not of the same order as conceptual knowledge. This seems
to leave only one satisfactory way open, and that is the
examining of the manifestations of instinct, to see how far
these support the position that Instinct involves anything that
the psychologist can call knowledge.

There are three considerations which seem specially relevant
in this connection. Consider first of all the part which the
sense of smell can be shown to play in so many typical and well-
developed instincts. As Mitchell has pointed out, in this very
connection2, no sense is less fitted than smell to give us know-
ledge of a complex object. It would seem to follow that no

1 Mind in Evolution, p. 50. 2 Structure and Growth of the Mind, p. 127.

102 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

sense is less fitted than smell to mediate innate or intuitive
knowledge of a complex object.

When Spalding, who had just been working with puppies,
put his hand into a basket containing kittens only three days
old, and still blind, they at once began "puffing and spitting
in a most comical fashion1." Romanes made a similar obser-
vation as regards young rabbits and the smell of a ferret2.
The flesh-fly, which normally deposits its eggs on putrid meat,
will deposit them on the flowers of the carrion plant3. The
strong smelling secretion of the udder attracts the lamb;
otherwise it would not know what to suck. "It will take into
its mouth whatever comes near, in most cases a tuft of wool
on its dam's neck, and at this it will continue sucking for an
indefinite time4."

More striking still is the apparent instinctive recognition
by ants, of ants belonging to the same nest or community,
while a stranger ant, put into the nest, is also at once recognized
and killed5. Sir John Lubbock (Lord Avebury) repeated and
confirmed the observations of Huber in this respect, and
observed further that an ant, separated from the nest for over
a year, was still recognized, that, even when ants were taken
from the nest in the condition of pupae, and restored as perfect
insects, they were still recognized, and finally that ants hatched
from the eggs of different queens taken from the same nest
received one another as friends. Sir John Lubbock concludes,
that the recognition is not due to any ' password' or 'gesture
sign,' nor to any peculiar smell. Here, if anywhere, we appear
to have a case of innate knowledge or 'clairvoyance.' But
a subsequent investigator has discovered that the recognition
is due to smell6, that it is not the sight of a stranger ant, or the
recognition of him as an intruder, that excites the ants in a
nest to fury, and, on the other hand, it is not the sight of a
kindred ant, or the recognition of him as of their kin, that

1 Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 164.

2 Op. cit., p. 165. 3 Op. cit., p. 167.

4 Hobhouse, Mind in Evolution, p. 48, quoted from Lloyd Morgan, Habit
and Instinct.

6 Romanes, Animal Intelligence, p. 14 f.

6 Bethe, in Pfliiger's Archiv, LXX, pp. 33-37, quoted by Mitchell, Structure
and Growth of the Mind, p. 126.

iv] The 'Knowledge' of Instinct 103

causes them to receive him as a friend, but in each case a
peculiar smell, or at least something analogous to that. For
this investigator succeeded in turning "friend into enemy
among them, and with more difficulty enemy into friend,
and both in degrees," by rubbing a particular enemy ant in
the dead bodies of friends, or a particular kindred ant in the
dead bodies of enemies.

What are we to say then? What is our psychological
interpretation of such behaviour to be ? Surely not that there
is a mysterious kind of innate knowledge, which becomes
functionally active, and determines behaviour, on the presen-
tation of a certain smell. Rather that the smell itself has a
certain interest, and, on being presented, inaugurates a certain
course of action of the kind we call instinctive. Have we no
examples in our own experience of unaccountable liking or aver-
sion, which is entirely independent of knowledge, and entirely
perceptual? The animal or insect knows nothing except that
it apprehends an object or situation, the smell of which is
agreeably or disagreeably interesting, as the case may be, and
which must be reacted towards in a certain way. We might
term the whole experience, including the behaviour-experience,
a ' this — of course ' experience, only, by so doing, we are making
it more definite, and more approximating our own kind of ex-
perience, than it in all probability really is1.

The second consideration is the extent to which, and the
way in which, a slight modification in a situation is sufficient
to throw the whole instinctive series out of gear. "The brute
cannot deviate from the rule prescribed to it," says Rousseau2.
Of course this is not invariably true, but the really surprising
thing is that it is so near the truth.

Illustrations of this characteristic of instinctive behaviour
are fairly numerous, especially among insects. Here are three,
all due to Fabre's observations.

The young of Bembex are shut up in a cell, covered over
with sand. From time to time the mother brings food, finding

1 Cf. Mitchell, Structure and Growth of the Mind, pp. 125-8, for a discussion
of this point.

2 Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, part I.

104 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

her way unerringly every time, though to the ordinary human
eye, there is nothing to distinguish the spot. Fabre removed
the sand, on one occasion, exposing the cell and the larva. As a
result the Bembex was quite bewildered, and evidently did not
recognize her own offspring, which she had all the time been
feeding. " It seems as if she knew the doors, the nursery, and
the passage, but not the child1."

The larva of Chalicodoma is enclosed in a cell of earth,
through which it must eat its way when the time comes for
its exit. Fabre first pasted a piece of paper round the cell,
and found that the insect ate its way through this without
difficulty, in the same way as it ate its way through the earthen
wall of the cell. He next placed round the cell a paper case,
with a small distance between the wall of the cell and the paper.
This time the paper formed "an effectual prison." The Chali-
codoma was determined by Instinct to bite through one wall,
but not through two2.

One of the solitary wasps, Sphex flavipennis, hunts grass-
hoppers. When returning to its nest with the grasshopper,
it invariably leaves the grasshopper outside, "so that the
antennae reach precisely to the opening," goes in, as if to see
that all is right inside, then puts out its head and drags in the
grasshopper. On one occasion, while the Sphex was in its
nest on its visit of inspection, Fabre removed the grasshopper
to a small distance from the entrance. Out came the wasp,
missed the grasshopper, searched round for it, dragged it to
the entrance as before, laid it down, and proceeded again to
inspect the nest. Once more Fabre removed the prey, and
the wasp repeated the whole process, and again, again, and
again, in all forty times. Fabre then removed the grasshopper
altogether. The Sphex did not search for another grasshopper,
but closed up its nest in the usual way, as if everything was all
right inside, though in reality it was closing the nest up, without
any food for the larva3.

This last case of Instinct has been cited many times. It

1 Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 166, quoting Sir John Lubbock.

2 Op. cit., p. 166.

3 Hobhouse, Mind in Evolution, p. 55; Romanes, op. cit., p. 179.

iv] The ' Knowledge ' of Instinct 105

must be noted, however, that on another occasion Fabre failed
to get the same unvarying process repeated so often, and that
Dr and Mrs Peckham, in their study of American species of
Sphex, describe the process somewhat differently1. It seems
as if the urgency of the next succeeding impulse gradually
becomes accentuated, until finally the grasshopper may be
dragged into the nest, without the preliminary visit of inspection
taking place, or the nest may be closed up without a grasshopper.

Now what is the nature of the knowledge involved in these
three cases? Obviously perceptual knowledge. That is the
only answer the psychologist can give. If we suppose a mind
confined to perceptual experience, that will account for every-
thing in the phenomena, so far as they are psychological, and
nothing else will.

The third consideration is the kind of error which charac-
terizes Instinct. This is a point that has been much emphasized
by those writers who have sought to combat the notion of
Instinct altogether. Biichner is a notable instance2. We may
distinguish simple errors made by Instinct, from what we
should rather call aberrations of Instinct. Let us begin with
a few typical errors.

The larva of the Sitaris beetle attaches itself to a bee, and
is carried to the hive, where it is hatched and maintained on
the honey3. The knowledge that would really matter to the
Sitaris larva is knowledge that would inevitably enable it to
distinguish a bee from other passing insects. This knowledge
it evidently does not possess. "Although they are close to
the abodes of the bees, they do not enter them, but seek to
attach themselves to any hairy object that may come near
them, and thus a certain number of them get on to the bodies
of the Anthophora, and are carried to its nest. They attach
themselves with equal readiness to any other hairy insect,
and it is probable that very large numbers perish in consequence
of attaching themselves to the wrong insects4."

1 W asps, Social and Solitary, pp. 69-71, 304-5.

2 See Aus dem Geistesleben der Thiere, English translation by Annie Besant,
under the title Mind in Animals, Introduction.

3 Darwin, Origin of Species, chap. xm.

* Cambridge Natural History, vol. vi, p. 272, quoted by Hobhouse, Mind
in Evolution, p. 49.

106 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

Romanes records, on the authority of two independent
observers, that wasps and bees occasionally visit representations
of flowers on the wallpapers of rooms, and quotes a case, where
a parrot, which ordinarily feeds on the flowers of the Eucalyptus,
attempted to dine off the flowers represented on a print dress,
and another case of a hawk-moth mistaking the artificial flowers
in a lady's bonnet for real ones1. Brehm relates that the
pine-moth, the caterpillars of which live on pine leaves, may
by mistake lay its eggs on oak-trees, growing in the neighbour-
hood of pines2. The same point is illustrated by some of our
previous cases of Instinct, for example those of the flesh-fly
and the lamb. Errors in connection with the migratory
instincts of birds and animals3 might be added, but, owing
to the unsatisfactory state of our knowledge regarding the
phenomena of migration, we could hardly with safety draw
conclusions from them.

One example will suffice of what we may call aberration of
Instinct. The larva of the Lomechusa beetle eats the young
of the ants, in whose nest it is reared. Nevertheless the ants
tend the Lomechusa larvae with the same care they bestow on
their own young. Not only so, but they apparently discover
that the methods of feeding, which suit their own larvae,
would prove fatal to the guests, and accordingly they change
their whole "system of nursing." Hobhouse, who quotes this
illustration from Wasmann, comments: "After all is an ant,
nourishing parasites that destroy its young, guilty of a greater
absurdity than, say, a mother promoting her daughter's
happiness by selling her to a rich husband, or an inquisitor
burning a heretic in the name of Christian charity, or an Emperor
forbidding his troops to give quarter in the name of civiliza-
tion4?"

Though the comparison is no doubt a just one, yet from
the psychological point of view it is rather misleading. The

1 Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 167.

2 Quoted by Biichner, op. cit., p. 15 (translation).

8 See Darwin, Descent of Man, 2nd ed., pp. 105, 107. Also "Posthumous
Essay on Instinct" in Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, and also pp. 281-
297 of latter.

4 Mind in Evolution, p. 75.

iv] The 'Knoivledge' of Instinct 107

mother, the inquisitor, and the Emperor have all certain
conceived ends, and judge that the means taken are such as
to realize those ends. The behaviour of the ant is what it is,
precisely because there is no conceived end, nor judgment
regarding the means for realizing it, but merely perceptual
consciousness, determining the acting out of an instinctive
impulse from moment to moment.

These examples — and they are all more or less typical —
seem to make it abundantly clear that we have no right to
speak of knowledge, in any psychological sense of knowledge,
as characterizing the operations of Instinct, beyond the know-
ledge involved in perceptual consciousness. That the instinct
structure is a marvellous adaptation to the conditions in which
it must function, and that this adaptation is the result of
evolution, working in the main through natural selection, no
one would attempt to deny. But similar adaptations of
structure to conditions of functioning may be found in pro-
cesses of animal life, which do not, in the psychologist's opinion,
involve consciousness at all. Of course we may speak figura-
tively of knowledge as determining action in these cases also,
but to do so is to use the term in a meaning that is scientifically
quite unjustifiable. Or we may regard the knowledge, as
residing in a Mind, which has created both the structure and
the conditions to which it is adapted. Psychologically the
only possible interpretation of instinctive behaviour seems to
be in terms of specific impulse determining specific act, on
presentation in perceptual consciousness of a specific situation.

So far as Bergson's description and analysis of Instinct is
psychological, this view of the nature of the instinctive con-
sciousness will apply to it, and will even help in the interpretation
of its often highly figurative language. Take this for example :
"Instinct is therefore necessarily specialized, being nothing
but the utilization of a specific instrument for a specific object.
The instrument constructed intelligently, on the contrary, is
an imperfect instrument. It costs an effort. It is generally
troublesome to handle. But, as it is made of unorganized
matter, it can take any form whatsoever, serve any purpose,
free the living being from every new difficulty that arises,

108 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

and bestow on it an unlimited number of powers. Whilst it
is inferior to the natural instrument for the satisfaction of
immediate wants, its advantage over it is the greater, the less
urgent the need1." Understand "perceptual experience" for
the "specific instrument of instinct," and "conceptual thought"
for the "instrument constructed intelligently," and everything
becomes clear and acceptable to any psychologist.

Let us return to our example of the cyclist riding through
a crowded thoroughfare. He has to rely upon perceptual
experience, and he must perceive, and act immediately on the
perception of, the precise element in each newly presented
situation, which is essentially concerning him. Cyclists die
young, who try to ride through crowded thoroughfares, and
who perceive and act towards the wrong things, or who require
to think about relations, before they can decide to act at all.
The situation in which the cyclist often finds himself is pre-
cisely such a situation, that the only possible guide to right
action is perceptual experience. Neither purely mechanical
adjustment, nor knowledge of the velocities and masses of
various loaded and unloaded vehicles, and the relation of such
velocities and masses to the velocity and mass of himself and
the machine he is riding, will serve his purpose. Purely
mechanical adjustment will not, because the situations do not
present themselves in any form, which can be grasped under
a general law or principle, capable of being embodied in any
mechanism. Conceptual knowledge will not, because it involves
a delay of action, when immediate action is imperative, when
even the representation of the act in idea is "held in check
by the performance of the act itself2."

A final point, which may be made against Bergson's view
of Instinct, is that his contrast between Instinct and Intelli-
gence, as ways of knowing reality, depends, not only on a
psychologically illegitimate use of the word 'knowledge,' in
connection with Instinct, but also on an interpretation of
Intelligence, which, as confining that term to its highest
manifestations, is also misleading. Intelligence, he holds,

1 Creative Evolution, p. 148 (translation).

2 Op. cit., p. 151.

iv] The 'Knowledge' of Instinct 109

implies an "innate knowledge" of relations, rather than things.
Once more the use of ' knowledge' is scarcely legitimate, for,
by this statement, he means simply to assert that Intelligence
makes use of intellectual categories, and comprehends reality
under these forms, the use of a form implying 'innate know-
ledge' of the form, which seems to be precisely the same
argument as that used with regard to instinctive 'knowledge.'

According to a disciple, Bergson means to define Intelligence
as the "power of using categories," since it is "knowledge of
the relations of things1." But, to quote again the same writer,
"beside the intellect, and implied in our knowledge of its
limitations, is a power of intuition, that is, of apprehending
reality not limited by the intellectual categories2." Exactly
so. This intuition, as we have seen, is what we call perceptual
experience, and, as we have also seen, this is characteristic of
instinctive behaviour. It is true that perceptual experience
does not make use of the intellectual categories, because,
qua perception, it does not think relations, but apprehends
single and simple reals, though, in the human being, as 'con-
ceptual' perception, it may employ or, at all events, be
modified by, the results of such use of the intellectual categories.
But, in any case, the contrast between Instinct and Intelligence
has thus become nothing more than the distinction between
perceptual consciousness and conceptual thought. If we
choose to limit 'Intelligence' to the latter, then the separation
between Instinct and Intelligence, as regards the form under
which each knows reality, is inevitable.

We are really using Bergson as a type of those theories of
Instinct, which attribute to it a kind of 'innate' or 'clairvoyant'
knowledge. He is, of course, really opposing Instinct and
Intelligence on an apperceptive background of philosophy, not
of psychology, and of a peculiar philosophy, which requires
him to use terms, which are used in psychology, but with a
different and specialized or 'polarized' meaning. It is Life,
which is the ultimate reality, a Life, which 'acts' and 'knows,'
but with a transcendent 'action' and 'knowledge,' not the

1 H. Wildon Carr in British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 232.

2 Op. cit., p. 236.

110 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH. iv

action and knowledge of the individual, with which psychology
deals.

Desiring to express this transcendent 'action' and 'know-
ledge,' so as to make it clear to himself and to others, Bergson
seizes upon the difference between Instinct and Intelligence,
as presenting in some way an analogy to the difference between
ordinary action and knowledge and this perfect action and
knowledge. At this point Bergson seems to be thinking of
Instinct partly in the way in which the biologist thinks of it,
but still more — and this is where the importance of the view
for psychology comes in — in a more or less popular way, and
in a way which had shown itself in several of the older writers
on Instinct, from Lord Herbert of Cherbury to E. von Hartmann.

When Bergson comes to an analysis of the characteristics
which distinguish Instinct from Intelligence, he is compelled
by his whole line of argument to oppose the two. Psycho-
logically the opposition is really that between perceptual
experience and conceptual thought, biologically that between
a 'connate' and an acquired disposition, structure, or organi-
zation of nervous elements. Apart from philosophical impli-
cations, these are really the oppositions he makes. But, in
order to support his thesis, immediate apprehension of reality
must be emphasized on the one hand, as over against indirect,
relational, and hypothetical knowledge on the other. Hence
the implied conclusion, that, only in so far as we lay aside the
forms of the intellect, and trust to intuition, can we know
reality as Life. In order to get the best view of the stars
through a telescope, we ought to shut our own eyes, as some
one — was it not Locke — once expressed a somewhat similar
situation.

CHAPTER V

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL NATURE OF INSTINCT-
INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE

The discussion of Bergson's opposition between Instinct
and Intelligence naturally leads us on to attempt to determine,
more closely than we have yet done, the exact relation between
the two. This has lately become a highly controversial question,
but we shall try to show that there is really no reason why it
should have. The whole controversy — or, at least, the main
controversy — seems to have arisen from different writers
using the respective terms in different senses, and our old
friend, the biological meaning of Instinct, has played no mean
part, and has been perhaps the most fruitful source of confusion.

The British Journal of Psychology of October, 1910, con-
tained a statement of the views, regarding the relation of
Instinct to Intelligence, of several of our leading British psy-
chologists, Myers, Stout, McDougall, Lloyd Morgan, and
Wildon Carr. Lloyd Morgan has since given us a more fully
elaborated statement of his views in his Instinct and Experience.
The main lines of the discussion may, therefore, be regarded as
laid down for us. Five more or less different views regarding
the relation of Instinct to Intelligence are before us. Of these,
one is Bergson's and need not further concern us for the present.
Lloyd Morgan's view appears to be the generally prevailing
view among comparative psychologists. It will, therefore, be
best to take our start from that. Myers puts forward what
may be called the opposing view, with McDougall in close
agreement, while Stout's view mediates between Lloyd Morgan's
and Myers', with leanings towards the latter, as regards
essential elements.

It may be well to state here, that our purpose in utilizing
this whole discussion is not merely to clear up the relation of

112 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

it

Instinct to Intelligence, but also to arrive at a fuller analysis
of the instinct-experience itself. Hitherto we have been con-
cerned mainly with the instinct-experience, in so far as it is
determined by the nature of an object or situation, and with
the assumption of an innate knowledge of some kind or other,
determining the course of action. We have still to consider
the instinct-experience, in so far as it is determined by the
relation of situation to impulse, by what we shall call later
the ' meaning ' of the situation, and our attempt to get a psycho-
logical account of this factor will be very greatly assisted by
following the discussion, in the way in which we intend to
follow it.

It is a little unfortunate that Lloyd Morgan's conception
of Instinct should be the biological, a conception which we have
already rejected as practically useless for psychological pur-
poses, and as likely to lead sooner or later to insoluble difficulties.
Nevertheless his paper yields some very interesting psychological
points, when he seeks to attach to his biological conception
of Instinct the notion of experience, and attempts to give
a genetic account of what he terms the 'primary tissue of
experience1.'

A start is made with instinctive behaviour, defined as
dependent "entirely on how the nervous system has been
built up through heredity, under the mode of racial preparation
which we call evolution2." As opposed to instinctive behaviour,
intelligent behaviour depends on the way in which the nervous
system has been built up through heredity, but "depends also
on how the nervous system has been modified and moulded
in the course of that individual preparation, which we call the
acquisition of experience3."

Both definitions are psychologically unsatisfactory, the
latter the more obviously so. It would include under intelligent
behaviour the most unintelligent and unconsciously formed
individual habits, like habits of speech and gesture. On the

1 Lloyd Morgan has since, in Instinct and Experience, explicitly abandoned
this phrase. We are inclined to continue its use, but rather in the form ' primary
tissue of meaning,' as below.

2 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 220.

3 Op. cit., p. 221.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 113

other hand it is very doubtful how far we can regard what is
essentially intelligent in intelligent behaviour as due to the
acquisition of experience. As to the former it is necessary, in
order to differentiate instinctive behaviour, so denned, from mere
organic process and reflex activity, to add that the behaviour,
conditioned by inherited dispositions of the nervous system,
which we call instinctive, is also accompanied by experience.
It is only at this point that the psychology of instinctive
behaviour begins. The questions which interest the psycho-
logist are : What is the nature of this experience ? How does
it arise? What is its function? All these questions Lloyd
Morgan attempts to answer in his genetic account of the
' primary tissue of experience.'

The whole argument as to the origin of experience and the
relation of Instinct to Intelligence centres round the develop-
ment of the experience of a moorhen, which Lloyd Morgan has
observed. He begins with the moorhen about two months
old, which he has observed on the occasion of its first dive,
and, working backwards in the moorhen's experience, he
finally reaches the 'primary tissue of experience,' where the
'factors of reinstatement' are practically non-existent. We
may profitably reverse the order, and begin with the 'primary
tissue.'

If we consider the moorhen chick, "at the time when the
little bird was struggling out of the cramping egg-shell," then
we have the time when the first experience arose, "when there
came what we may regard as the initial presentation, generating
the initial responsive behaviour, in the earliest instinctive acts,
accompanied we may presume by the initial emotional tone,
coalescent to form what I have ventured to call the primary
tissue of experience1." This is the birth of experience. It is
the stage "at which the experiencer, as such, has its primary
genesis." Is this also the beginning of mind, as far as the chick
is concerned ? This is a question which we might ask, but which
we do not intend to press in the meantime, since the answer
seems to be involved in what follows.

"All those primary and inherited modes of behaviour,

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 224.
D. 8

114 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

including reflex acts," which contribute to the ' primary tissue
of experience,' are, "for psychological purposes," to be regarded
as included under Instinct. This earliest experience — instinct-
experience — described as the coalescence of the first presen-
tation, the first emotional tone, and the first instinctive act,
renders possible, according to Lloyd Morgan's view, an intelli-
gent factor in subsequent behaviour. The first act, however,
is not at all intelligent, but purely 'instinctive.'

Two other instances of the moorhen chick's behaviour, are
cited, and it will be well to have these also before us, when
considering this account of the nature of instinct-experience.
The genesis of the moorhen as experiencer has been described.
When this experiencer had had a few days of such experience,
it was one day placed gently in a tepid bath. "Even then he
was an experiencer, though his store of factors of revival was
exceedingly limited. Of swimming experience he had none.
Racial preparation had, however, fitted the tissues, contained
within his black fluffy skin to respond in a quite definite manner.
And, in the first act of swimming, there was afforded to his
experience a specific presentation, a specific response, a specific
emotional tone, all coalescent into one felt situation1."

Two months later, this moorhen dived for the first time,
when it was scared by the appearance of a dog. "There was
the moorhen, swimming in the stream. Sensory presentations
through eye, ear, and skin, from the organs concerned in
behaviour, from the internal viscera, from the whole organic
'make-up' — these, together with a supplement of 'factors of
reinstatement,' gained during two months of active, vigorous
life, constituted what I conceived to be the actually existent
experience of the moment. Here was a body of experience,
then and there present, functioning as experiencer and ready
to assimilate the newly introduced instinctive factors. Then
comes along that blundering puppy; and the moorhen dives2."

Lloyd Morgan's thesis is, that, though in a moorhen two
months old Instinct and Intelligence cannot be separated, yet
they are theoretically and psychologically distinguishable. In
the "scare-begotten dive" the behaviour is predominantly

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. ra, p. 222. 2 Op. cit., p. 221.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 115

instinctive, because it is dependent mainly on the way in which
the "nervous mechanism has been built up through heredity,"
and to a very slight extent determined by the previous experience
of the moorhen. * From his own point of view, he is of course right,
and popularly also, as we have seen, we call actions instinctive
when the "potency of experience' is low. But that is not
where the real difficulty arises, nor where the real interest of
the psychologist lies. The real difficulty arises in the account
given of experience.

What Lloyd Morgan's exact idea was, when he used the
word * coalescent,' it is not easy to determine, but, on his own
statement of the various cases, there is no coalescence. There
is only a succession of two experiences. There is the presen-
tation-experience a, and there is the behaviour-experience 6,
and b succeeds a, is not synthesized with a, by any means of
which he makes mention in the descriptions. It is impossible
to see how 'factors of reinstatement,' unless they contain more
than the original experiences, as so described, can ever make
any difference in the instinctive behaviour of the moorhen.
The "scare-begotten dive" is determined, not merely to a very
slight extent, by experience, but, on any such account of ex-
perience, not at all. It is as purely instinctive as the first
instinctive response of the newly hatched chick.

The most valuable part of Stout's paper is probably his
conclusive refutation of Lloyd Morgan's views, as regards the
nature of the experience, which accompanies the first or any
subsequent instinctive response. Lloyd Morgan has expanded,
and somewhat modified his views, in a more recent work1, to
meet the objections of Stout and others. It is therefore neces-
sary that we should consider here his fuller and more detailed
statement, before leaving this point.

The first important addition made is that experience, as
such, is synthetic. "Any given experience at any moment is
a synthetic product, or, from a different point of view, a phase
in a continuous synthetic process2." Now this is undoubtedly
true, and it apparently gets over the ' coalescence ' difficulty, but
what does it really mean for Lloyd Morgan ? What is the exact

1 Instinct and Experience. London, 1912. 2 Op. cit., p. 8.

8—2

116 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

nature and manner of this synthesis ? He says it is essentially
the synthesis involved in what Stout has called 'primary
meaning1.' In an experienced series — if there is conative
unity and continuity, according to Stout — each element except
the first is qualified by the fact that certain others have pre-
ceded, as well as by the quote of these others, and is therefore
presented with a meaning, which is something over and above
the bare presentation itself. In other words, our experience
of the object is determined, not by the nature of the object
exclusively, but also by our immediately preceding experience
of objects. Though we cannot accept Stout's account of
'primary meaning,' it must be conceded that this position
presents no difficulties for him, since, with him, experience is
shot through and through with conation, and conation always
synthesizes. For Lloyd Morgan the explanation of the syn-
thesis is an entirely different, and much more difficult matter.

Lloyd Morgan admits that "all experience involves a
consciousness of process as transitional2." There are really
two points which arise. The first is the kind of explanation
we can give of synthesis or coalescence — they cannot be con-
sidered synonymous — on the basis of transition in experience
and experience of the transition. That enquiry we are for the
present postponing. The second is the way in which this
transition in experience and experience of transition affects
' primary ' meaning, in Stout's sense. That is the point we are
discussing.

A 'puppy presentation' a is followed by a 'behaviour-
experience' b. Theoretically at least, we may suppose other
presentations interposed between a and b. Practically that
is probably impossible in this case, owing to the fact that b
follows almost immediately upon a, but theoretically there is
no impossibility. In the small fraction of a second, intervening
between a and b, let us suppose other presentations, x, y, z, etc.,
as of a stone thrown into the water, a trout leaping, and the
like. How will this affect the primary meaning of 6? Is 6
now qualified by x, y, and z, as well as by a, and presumably

1 Manual, book i, chap. n.

2 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 223.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 117

to a greater extent by z than by a? Obviously the answer is
that 6 is not qualified to any appreciable extent by x, y, and z,
and certainly not to a greater extent by z than by a, because
b is the response to a. This is the chief factor giving meaning
to 6, not the mere transition in experience from a.

The two experiences belong together, and are experienced
as belonging together. But experienced transition and
'primary' meaning, as understood by Lloyd Morgan, will not
explain this experience of belonging together. For a also
represents a transition from some other presentation or
behaviour-experience, say swimming, and acquires 'primary'
meaning from such antecedent experience, which we may
denote by A ; but the connection between A and a, and the
qualification of a due to A, are worlds away from the connection
between a and 6, and the qualification of b due to a.

Take for illustrative purposes an analogous, or nearly
analogous, case from human experience. I am cycling in a
leisurely way along a country road, listening to the song of a
lark, when a motor whizzes suddenly round a bend in the road,
some twenty yards away, and I hurriedly take the side of the
road. Here we have 'song of lark' as presentation A,
'approaching motor' as presentation a, and 'getting hurriedly
out of its way' as behaviour-experience 6. It is clear that the
relation of b to a is quite different from the relation of a to A,
and that the difference is due to the fact that more is involved
than the mere experience of transition.

But there is another side of the psychological series of
phenomena. So far we have considered only the meaning of
b with relation to a. What of the meaning of a with relation
to 6? In our opinion the answer to this question presents
a difficulty, which Lloyd Morgan is no more successful in sur-
mounting on the second statement of his case, than on the first.
He can only give an account of this meaning in terms of
'secondary' meaning, that is to say, as the result of past
experience, the 'factors of reinstatement.' According to this
account, on its first presentation a has no meaning, but it
acquires meaning from the behaviour- experience which follows.
This seems a very strange transposition of Stout's 'primary'

118 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

>v

meaning. So far as Stout's ' primary' meaning is concerned,
a is qualified not by 6, which succeeds, but by A which pre-
cedes it.

Waiving this difficulty, we come upon another. On a
subsequent presentation similar to a, owing to 'secondary'
meaning, there is preperception of what is coming. This is
what we call learning by experience. If it were not that Stout
interprets Lloyd Morgan's position, in the same way, we should
be afraid that we were misinterpreting him. But Stout, very
pertinently, as it seems to us, asks whether this learning must
be considered as taking place on the first occasion or on the
second. If it did not take place on the first occasion, he sees
no way of accounting for its taking place at all. This Lloyd
Morgan cannot help admitting1.

The most interesting point is the preperception itself, or the
"prospective reference," of which preperception "is the first
genetic stage2." The position would seem to be, that, so far as the
purely instinctive element is concerned, there is no "prospective
reference" in the first "puppy presentation," that the moorhen
experiences, but, because of the results which follow in experi-
ence, the second such presentation would have "prospective
reference," and the behaviour, which followed, even within the
limits in which it was previously purely instinctive, would be
suffused with intelligence. The "prospective reference" of a
on the second occasion, therefore, can only arise from the
association of behaviour-experience b with a on the first
occasion. Every other explanation is excluded, and how
association supplies a characteristic of looking forward, which
was not present in a on the first occasion, which determines
the association, appears to us, as to Stout, an entire and in-
comprehensible mystery.

It must be admitted that Lloyd Morgan is quite aware of
the associationist implications of his position. He seeks to
avoid them by pointing out that he is describing the 'experi-
enced,' not the 'experiencing3.' If this means that he is con-
cerned with the objective, and not at all with the subjective

1 Instinct and Experience, p. 36.

2 Op. cit., p. 45. 3 Op. cit., p. 51.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 119

aspect of experience, it would seem, in the circumstances,
a somewhat extraordinary admission. It is surely scarcely
legitimate, in a genetic account of experience, to begin by
theoretically distinguishing object and subject in experience,
and then to describe the development of the objective, in
isolation from the subjective, when, in actual experience, no
such development is possible or conceivable. It may, of course,
imply the view, that there is in 'experiencing' something which
is not 'experienced/ and that with this something a psycho-
logical account of instinct has nothing to do. Such a view can
only be accepted, if, and so far as, psychology can be shown
necessarily to fail in giving an account of this factor.

Before attempting a solution of the problem of meaning
which all this really involves, it will be advisable to dispose
of the problem of the relation of Instinct to Intelligence, by
following out the discussion. We pass, therefore, in the next
place, to Stout's attempted solution.

Stout's views are not so definite as Lloyd Morgan's. On
the one hand, he maintains that all instinctive behaviour is,
as such, intelligently determined, but, on the other hand,
asserts or implies that there may be intelligent behaviour,
which is not instinctively determined. On the one hand, he
maintains that all instinctive action is accompanied by ex-
perience, which is conative on the perceptual level from the
very beginning; on the other hand, he urges that we require
the term Instinct "to distinguish congenitally definite modes
of behaviour1." One explanation of the apparent inconsist-
encies would be that he is vacillating between the two possible
ways of regarding Instinct, the psychological and the biological.

His argument starts with a very valuable and acute criticism
of Lloyd Morgan's views, which, in most respects, is pretty
much on the same lines of thought, which we have indicated.
What mainly interests him is Lloyd Morgan's account of the
process of learning by experience. "How can the actual

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 245.

Most of what follows was written before Stout's most recent pronouncement
on 'Instinct' in the third edition of the Manual (1913), but, although we find
ourselves in agreement with many of these later views, we have not seen reason
to alter anything here.

120 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

process of learning by experience," he says, " which is supposed
to generate intelligence, be itself entirely unintelligent? How
can a series of experiences in the way of blind sensation and
feeling result, on a subsequent occasion, in the open-eyed
pursuit of an end? So far as I can discover, this is supposed
to take place merely through the revival of past experiences
by association. But the bare revival of an experience cannot
be or contain more than the original experience itself. If this
consist of blind sensation and feeling, so will its reproduction.
No intelligent alteration of behaviour such as animals actually
display could be accounted for in this way. The intelligence
is shown in a more or less systematic modification of the whole
conduct of the animal when a new situation arises resembling
the old one1."

He quotes an illustration from Lloyd Morgan's Habit and
Instinct. A chick had been taught to pick out pieces of yolk,
from among pieces of white of egg. Bits of orange peel, cut
so as to resemble the yolk, were then mixed with the white.
One of these was seized, but almost immediately dropped.
A second time a bit of orange peel was seized, held in the bill
for a moment, and then dropped. Afterwards nothing would
induce the chick to touch the peel. The orange peel was then
removed, and pieces of yolk of egg substituted once more.
For a time these were left untouched. Then the chick looked
doubtfully, pecked tentatively, merely touching, finally pecked
and swallowed.

"How can such adaptive variation," he concludes, "in the
whole method of procedure be explained by the mere repro-
duction of meaningless sensations and feelings? On this view,
when present sensations are combined with revivals of past
sensations, both the present and the revived experiences will
give occasion to their appropriate reactions. This, of itself,
will only account for resultant movements, in which the different
reactions will be combined in so far as they are compatible,
and will neutralise each other so far as they are incompatible. . . .
What actually happened in the case of the pieces of orange
peel was that the chick, after learning its lesson, definitely
1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, pp. 242-3.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 121

refused from the outset to have anything to do with them.
And when he is again presented with the piece of yolk his
whole conduct is modified in a still more systematic way. He
looks hesitatingly at the yolk; he then makes a tentative
peck, only touching it, not seizing it. When this preliminary
trial proves satisfactory, he pecks again, seizes and swallows.
The original process in which the animal learned to behave in
this manner, cannot, I think, have been wholly unintelligent1."

But Stout, in his description of the intelligent activity,
which accompanies all instinctive activity, and differentiates
it from reflex action, goes farther than we think the psycho-
logist, in the meantime, should find it necessary to go. He
apparently takes up the position that the operation of the
" congenital prearrangements of the neuro-muscular mechanism
for special modes of behaviour," as he regards Instinct, must
be " sustained, controlled, and guided by intelligent interest in
the pursuit of ends2." "Instead of a sequence of psychologic-
ally isolated reactions, we find the unity of a single activity,
developing itself progressively, through its partial phases
towards its end3."

The "psychologically isolated reactions" are reflex actions.
The word 'psychologically' is presumably used to emphasize
the fact, that, though such actions possess a continuity in the
underlying vital process, it is not a psychological continuity.
But are the reactions themselves psychological? If they are
not, why use the expression 'psychologically isolated' at all?
On the other hand, is there any need to assume that a course
of instinctive behaviour possesses psychological — that is con-
ative — unity and continuity from beginning to end? Is it not
more reasonable, from all we know at present, to suppose that
Instinct itself appears as a single link, as it were, in a reflex
chain, and that the conative unity and continuity — or ' psychical
integration' — at first refers to that link alone, the continuity
of the vital process accounting for the continuity as a whole?

We do not seem to find anything in instinctive behaviour,
or the learning from experience which characterizes it, to render

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, pp. 242-3

2 Op. cit., p. 244. 3 Loc. cit.

122 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

X

it necessary for us to assume such conative unity and continuity,
as Stout assumes, except in the case of the higher animals and
man, and only in the latter is conative unity and continuity
complete, with clear foresight of end, and relation of means to
end. To hold the contrary is to find a great gap between
reflex and instinctive activity. Moreover, if we take the
analogy of habit in the human being — and in many ways this
is a very helpful, though sometimes dangerous, analogy — we
find habitual acts representing practically every grade from
the unconscious reflex, as when we respond to a certain visual
stimulus with the sound of a word in reading aloud, to the
series of consciously controlled acts involved in playing a
game like cricket, or in working at any skilled occupation or
profession.

Stout regards the instinctive endowment of man as insig-
nificant, as displaying a " minimum of complexity and speciali-
zation, so that careful scrutiny is required to detect its presence
at all1." It is not surprising therefore that he finds it easy to
conclude that there may be intelligent behaviour which is not
at all instinctively determined. As regards this part of the
argument, three observations require to be made.

In the first place, he finds it possible to look on ' instinct ' asy
strictly speaking, a purely biological term, employed to mark
off "biological adaptations comparable to the prearrangements
of structure and function, which, in human beings, subserve
the digestion of food2." In view of his own previous discussion,
such a restriction of the meaning of the term is quite inad-
missible. If this biological adaptation conditions in any way co-
nation, interest, and perceptual meaning in experience, ' instinct *
must obviously be a psychological term, as well as a biological,
and the biological meaning will not serve in the psychological
universe of discourse, as we have already tried to show.

In the second place, intelligent behaviour in pursuit of ends
may, in the process, show no trace of the instinctive. Yet it
is incumbent upon Stout to show also that there are ends,
which are not at all instinctively conditioned, before he can
hold that there may be intelligent behaviour without a trace

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. m, p. 245. 2 Op. cit., p. 243.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 123

of Instinct. This he nowhere succeeds in doing, nor indeed
attempts.

In the third place, were it any psychologist but Stout, we
should say that he tends to confuse capacity with tendency.
That is at all events the effect of part of the argument. The
"capacity for acquiring skill and knowledge1" he claims as not
instinctive. In our sense of instinctive, it is not. But the
tendency to acquire, the motive for acquiring, skill and know-
ledge may, nevertheless, be instinctively conditioned. Ulti-
mately, we believe, it is always so conditioned, so that the
working out of the capacity in intelligent behaviour will involve
an instinctive element. Mozart's gift for music2 was not
instinctive, though his interest in music was probably instinc-
tively conditioned. The congenital aptitude for music we do
not call instinctive, but the congenital tendency we do. Hence
there is no reason why we should not say that Mozart had an
instinct for music, in precisely the same sense that we say
Ammophila has an instinct to hunt caterpillars, in the sense,
that is to say, of a certain experience being interesting, we
know not how or why, and a certain action seeming the one
and only proper thing to do in a certain situation.

With the essential aspects of McDougall's view of Instinct
we intend to deal later. We are therefore left with Myers,
with whom, indeed, McDougall professes general agreement.
According to Myers, Instinct and Intelligence are in reality
inseparable. But this statement seems to have for him two
meanings, sometimes the one meaning, and sometimes the other
dominating his thought. With the statement, in one of its
meanings, we are in agreement.

On the one hand, we have the view, that "the separation
of Jnstinct and Intelligence is a purely artificial act of abstrac-
tion3," because the relation of the one to the other is essentially
similar to that of object to subject4. The separation 'between
the two arises simply from our regarding behaviour from two
points of view, from the inside, or from the outside, subjectively
or objectively. So far as we regard behaviour from the inside,

• -.MX.MKJWIMBM-..

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 247. 2 Op. cit., p. 248.
3 Op. cit., p. 209. 4 Loc. cit.

124 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

it is characterized by finalism, and is therefore intelligent. So
-far -as we regard it from the outside, it is characterized by
mechanism, and is therefore instinctive. v Instinctive behaviour
can be regarded in the former way "from the standpoint of the
individual experience of the organism1." Intelligent behaviour
can equally be regarded in the latter way "from the standpoint
of observing the conduct of other organisms2." This view
seems to be based upon the biological conception of Instinct
as a nervous mechanism or neural prearrangement. Wherever
experience can be shown to be present, we must assume that
there is Intelligence. Consequently, since Instinct is differ-
entiated from reflex action by the fact that experience is present,
Instinct must necessarily involve Intelligence in every case. This
is rather too simple an argument to represent Myers' real views.

On the other hand, there is running through the whole
treatment, though more or less obscurely, the recognition of
behaviour as determined by ends which are 'innate,' and the
meaning of Instinct, implied in the notion of instinctive impulse,
as impulse determined by this 'innate' end. "When a mother
sacrifices her life to save her child," he says, "does she recognize
that she is acting instinctively3?" From our point of view,
this second meaning of Instinct is the important one, in fact
the only meaning, which can necessitate the discussion of
Instinct by the psychologist, as such.

Psychology, as aiming primarily at a description and ex-
planation of experience, is primarily concerned only with the
elements of experience, and the factors which directly condition
experience, and so far as they directly condition it. A biological
mechanism, as such, does not concern the psychologist. If this
is necessarily the only view that can be taken of Instinct, then
the psychologist must perforce agree with Stout, that the word
and its meaning belong to the universe of discourse of biology,
and not of psychology. But, in so far as this biological mechan-
ism directly conditions experience, in so far as there are emotions
and impulses, interests and ends, which we can describe as
instinctive, just so far is the psychologist concerned with
Instinct, but then also, for the psychologist, Instinct denotes

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, loc. cit. 2 Loc. cit. 3 Op. cit., p. 215.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 125

primarily those very emotions and impulses, interests and ends,
and only secondarily the neural mechanism, or 'disposition,'
with which they are correlated.

It appears to us that Myers has failed to make good his
contention, largely because, while conscious all the time of
this possible way of regarding Instinct, he keeps it in the back-
ground, and puts the biological view in the foreground. He
maintains that Instinct and Intelligence are inseparable, that
there is but one psychological function, 'instinct-intelligence/
because, in the most rudimentary instinctive behaviour, there
are evidences of learning from experience, and therefore of
Intelligence. But this is not sufficient. This is only one half
of the story. This does not meet Stout's argument that there
is no instinctive factor, necessarily determining the behaviour
of the highest intelligence. Nor is it enough to say that,
considered objectively, intelligent behaviour may present the
characteristics of being instinctive or 'mechanistic,' that, if we
knew all the conditions determining our behaviour, we should
"extend the mechanistic interpretation to ourselves1." From
the psychological point of view, at least, the latter statement
seems far from self-evident. It is certain that, if we called our
behaviour * mechanistic,' we should contradict the evidence of
our own experience. In fine, it must be confessed, that Myers
has not proved his thesis. He has only proved that Intelligence
is involved in all instinctive behaviour, and that is the basis of
his definition of Instinct.

Nevertheless, from his other point of view, Myers indicates
the lines, along which his thesis may be satisfactorily estab-
lished. He insists strongly on the fact, that instinctive
behaviour is conative, that Instinct determines ends. Now
Intelligence, as such, does not determine ends. It only devises
means for their attainment, that is, if we are to understand Intel-
ligence in any sense, in which it can be opposed to Instinct.
Had this line of thought been pursued, the whole thesis could
have been established forthwith. Unfortunately, it seems to
us, this point of view is overlaid by the suggestive effect of
two more or less misleading conceptions. The first of these is
1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. in, p. 217.

126 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

the conception of Intelligence as practically coextensive with
experience or consciousness, in place of being merely the cog-
nitive aspect of experience or consciousness, the suggestion
from which thrusts Instinct aside from its proper place. The
second is the thought underlying the subject-object analogy.
Hardly anything could be so unhappy as the comparison of
the relation between Instinct and Intelligence to the relation
between object and subject in experience, for it is presumably
the subject-object relation in experience, to which the reference
is made. The suggestion of the analogy leads us to look for
Instinct on the wrong side of experience, so to speak, as far as
human behaviour is concerned. The conation of Instinct, the
instinctive impulse, the instinct-feeling, fall on the subject, not
the object side, and it is precisely these, which are the instinctive
factors in developed intelligent behaviour.

Had this line of argument been taken and developed by
Myers from the start, it is questionable whether any difference
of opinion, or, at least any essential difference of opinion, would
have appeared on the part of any one of the five psychologists.
It is of course the central feature of the teaching of McDougall
in his Social Psychology. It is also in line with a great deal
of Stout's teaching. Both Lloyd Morgan and Wildon Carr
express themselves, as prepared in the main to agree to it. The
latter, however, holds that this view "breaks down entirely,
if called upon to explain or account for those highly specialized
and complicated actions, that we meet with only in what we
call the lower forms of life1." The former qualifies his acquies-
cence by stating that the connotation of the term 'instinct,'
which he has accepted, is accepted from his standpoint "as
biologist and comparative psychologist2."

If we have not already been successful in showing that
Lloyd Morgan's point of view is sound for the biologist, but
mistaken for the comparative psychologist, it is not likely that
we shall be any more successful by prolonging the argument.
In any case, we have nothing to add. Our answer to Wildon
Carr is essentially on the same lines. If he asks that the
psychological explanation should "explain and account for"

1 British Journal of Psychology, vol. m, p. 231. 2 Op. cit., p. 229.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 127

the whole fact, in the philosophical sense of explanation, then
it must be conceded that this it cannot do. For the psycho-
logical explanation is only intended to cover a part of the whole
fact — the psychological part — just as the biological explanation
is meant to cover the biological part. Together, and supple-
mented by the physiological, chemical, and physical explana-
tions, they may be said to cover the whole fact from the point
of view of empirical science, but not even then from the point
of view of philosophy, which requires that we show what the
fact means in relation to other facts in an ordered universe,
and in relation to the scheme of things as a whole.

Upon the use of the terms ' finalistic ' and ' mechanistic ' by
Myers, in describing the two aspects from which behaviour
may be regarded, Lloyd Morgan, in his Instinct and Experience,
bases a long, important, and, from his point of view, sound
argument on the principles that ought to be applied in a scien-
tific explanation of the facts of life and experience. Most of
the argument is entirely beyond the scope of the present
discussion. The part of the argument, which might be available
and applicable, is, in our opinion, largely invalidated by an
identification, or apparent identification, of conation, or con-
scious impulse, with preperception of end1. This identification
also marks his paper on 'Instinct and Intelligence,' and the
paper of Dr Myers appears to share in it. It seems to arise
from what we cannot help regarding as a misconception of the
nature of conation. It certainly carries a suggestion that tends
towards misconception.

Avoiding the wider issues raised, and confining ourselves
to the psychological interpretation, we might enquire once
more, with a view to a possible distinction between Instinct
and Intelligence on this basis, how far intelligent behaviour
can ever be regarded as characterized by mechanism. The
psychologist may safely grant, that, if we knew all the conditions,
we could prophesy the outcome in intelligent behaviour. He
could, of course, take refuge in the plea that such knowledge
is impossible, because each individual is unique, and, further,
all the conditions are only known, when the act has taken

1 Instinct and Experience, pp. 287, 288, etc.

128 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

place, even to the individual acting. But there is no need.
The psychologist merely requires to point out that, among the
conditions determining the act, there are some, of which no
mechanistic, and at the same time psychological, account is
possible, and no other than a psychological account can be
called an account in any real sense. Take, for example, purpose.
What mechanistic interpretation of purpose can be given, which
will include all the facts, and what explanation, other than a
psychological one, can be attempted?

If a mechanistic explanation of instinctive behaviour, as
such, can be given, and a mechanistic explanation of intelligent
behaviour, as such, cannot be given, then theoretically, at
least, it is possible, and indeed desirable, that we should separate
and distinguish the two kinds "of behaviour. But if instinctive
behaviour comes within the purview of the psychologist, then
a mechanistic explanation is impossible, since it involves
experience, and it can be shown to involve conation, if only
through the learning from experience which takes place. Hence,
as far as psychology is concerned, the attempt to distinguish
between Instinct and Intelligence on the basis of mechanism
and finalism entirely breaks down.

We find it possible, therefore, while differing from Myers
on many points in the course of his argument, to agree with
his main conclusions : (1) that there is no instinctive behaviour
without an intelligent factor, and (2) that there is no intelligent
behaviour without an instinctive factor. But we should prefer
to express his final conclusions in somewhat different terms.
"Throughout the psychical world there is but one physiological
mechanism, there is but one psychological function1," which
we should call experience, and not 'instinct-intelligence.'
Experience is determined by the nature of the experiencer and
the nature of the experienced object or situation, and, in the
elementary case, this reduces itself, as we have seen, to * instinct '
and 'sensation.' But "pure instincts deprived of meaning are
like pure sensations deprived of meaning ; they are psychological
figments2." And this, because experience, as carrying meaning,
involves both in relation to one another.

1 Instinct and Experience, p. 270. 2 Op. cit., p. 269.

v] Instinct and Intelligence 129

With the development of ' psychical integration ' both sides
develop, and their relation, that is experience, therefore expands
into a meaning inclusive of more and more, till, in the human
being, it may be inclusive of all things actual and possible, the
universe in space, and history in time from the remotest past,
and, in imagination, to the most distant future. But analyse the
most elaborate and complex processes of thought, or the deepest
and widest operations of the human reason, and we come in-
evitably upon our two poles of all experience, determining for
the individual the primary meaning of all.

CHAPTER VI

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL NATURE OF INSTINCT—
INSTINCT-INTEREST AND 'MEANING'

We are now in a position to take up the discussion of
'meaning.' The general position we shall try to defend is that
the 'meaning' in instinct-experience is affective, not cognitive,
on its first appearance1. This part of the discussion will also
involve, therefore, the discussion of 'instinct-interest,' as
fundamental in the 'primary tissue' of meaning. This aspect
of Instinct we have up to now passed over somewhat lightly,
but any psychological account of instinct-experience must
necessarily be incomplete, which does not describe what Lloyd
Morgan calls the emotional tone, but we prefer to regard as the
interest of the situation, as well as the cognition of the situation
in perceptual experience.

Returning once more to the instinct-experience of Lloyd
Morgan's moorhen, let us try to determine where meaning
emerges, and to give some account of the synthesis or 'coales-
cence' which takes place. As we have seen, Lloyd Morgan's
own account of the genesis of meaning professes to be a render-
ing of Stout's explanation of the 'acquirement of meaning2.'
According to this view the 'acquirement of meaning' is de-
pendent upon 'primary retention.' As we have also seen, the
view presents difficulties for Lloyd Morgan, which are not felt
by Stout, but even against Stout's statement of the theory we
should hold that meaning emerges prior to the process called
'acquirement of meaning,' and this on grounds similar to those on
which Stout himself bases his criticism of Lloyd Morgan's views.

The psychological problem is the emergence of meaning in
its most rudimentary form. Confusion will inevitably arise,

1 See Appendix I. 2 See Manual, p. 91 f.

CH. vi] Instinct-Interest and ' Meaning' 131

unless, at the outset, we distinguish clearly between meaning,
strictly so called, meaning in its root notion, and the more
developed and more complex secondary meaning, which ought
rather to be called 'significance.' Significance is a pointing
forward of the present experience to some other coming and
related experience or experiences. Hence it is always the
outcome of experience, and we may legitimately speak of the
'acquirement of significance,' or the acquirement of 'secondary
meaning.' Significance also implies a certain synthesis, which
may or may not be 'noetic,' but which, as far as behaviour is
concerned, has the effect of 'noetic' synthesis, a synthesis in-
volving 'psychical integration' which is inclusive of more than
the immediate present. Primary meaning is something more
fundamental, upon which significance depends. Essentially
the 'primary tissue of experience' ought to be regarded as
composed of meanings rather than of presentations or impres-
sions. At all events the earliest conscious behaviour must
be regarded as reaction to a meaning, without which reaction
to a presented situation appears inexplicable.

By a very interesting coincidence, Condillac and Bonnet1
both chanced to strike upon the same illustration, in order to
explain how knowledge is built up. And this illustration is
an excellent one for our present purpose. They imagined a
statue, which was endowed with the five senses in succession,
beginning with smell. The meaning they attached to ' sensation '
was somewhat different from the meaning we attach to the term.
But let us try to work out such a case with our meaning of
sensation.

All experience being of the nature of sensation, all know-
ledge will be composed of sensations, combined through associa-
tion, while meaning will be either of the nature of significance,
that is secondary meaning, or of the nature of simple recognition
of another of the same kind as one previously experienced, if
we can speak of either significance or recognition, where every-
thing due, either directly or indirectly, to the activity of the
subject is eliminated. The sensations themselves must be

1 Condillac, Trait&des Sensations. Bonnet, Essai Analytique sur les Facultes
de VAme. See Erdmann, History of Philosophy, vol. 11, pp. 138 and 143.

9—2

132 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

regarded as in some way determining 'psychical integration'
and recognition.

Under such conditions we could not have even perceptual
experience, which involves the apprehension of a single and
simple real, and implies also, as an essential element, primary
meaning. The sensation is but one aspect of perceptual
experience, and no number of sensations, as such, will give us
the other aspect.

Unfortunately we cannot get an illustration quite like the
statue illustration, to enable us to realize the other aspect of
perceptual experience. If we were to try to imagine pure mind
active in an empty world, we should have the other side in a
certain sense, but it is quite impossible to make such a thought
definite. All we can say is that in this case we have form
without content, as in the other we have content without form.
And, after all, this does not bring us to the point at which we
wish to arrive. For form without content is obviously nothing,
while it is not quite clear that the content of the 'statue's'
experience is entirely without form, since it appears to have
some sort of pattern, determined by the nature of the world
from which it proceeds.

We may perhaps get a nearer approximation to what we
want by imagining, instead of a statue with senses, a being
with, say, three instinctive impulses, and the power of move-
ment, but without senses. Endow this being with the single
capacity of feeling satisfaction or the reverse. Place it in an
environment, which is of such a kind, that movement in one
direction will tend to satisfy, or lead to the satisfaction of, one
impulse, movement in another direction to satisfy a second, and
movement in a third direction the third. In this case the
experience would consist of three different satisfactions succeed-
ing each other in a quite random manner, since, on the hypo-
thesis, there is no consciousness of the respective movements.
Endow now this being with memory and a single sense — that
of sight is easiest to work with — and observe the difference.
Since an instinctive impulse, as such, is capable of being deter-
mined by a specific object, the three instinctive impulses being
assumed of equal strength, whichever is first determined by the

vi ] Instinct- Interest and 'Meaning' 133

apprehension of an object seen, will tend towards satisfaction.
Neglecting the behaviour of such a being, we see that its experi-
ence is an experience of a situation or object, seen and also felt.
On analysis, the experience will necessarily be found to contain
(a) a felt impulse. (6) a visually apprehended object or situation,
and (c) a feeling of interest or ' worthwhileness,' passing into
'satisfyingness.' This interest it is not quite correct to call an
interest in the visually apprehended object, nor an interest
qualifying the impulse. It is essentially a feeling dependent
upon the whole relation of impulse to object.

We conclude, therefore, that, while perceptual experience
cannot be imagined without two factors, it really involves three,
for with its constitution there emerges the interest of the situa-
tion, which is its meaning, and which is for elementary experi-
ence the most important element of the three. The emotional
factor Lloyd Morgan recognizes, but he makes no use of it in
his subsequent analysis of meaning. If, however, it is the
meaning, and involves the apprehension of an object as a
simple real, on the one side, and experience of the impulse,
thereby determined and become conscious, on the other, it is
of the very first importance. It is the very core of the experi-
ence itself. We define then primary meaning as the feeling of
relation between an object or a situation and an impulse
towards that object or situation, that feeling being best
described as interest or 'worthwhileness.'

The same conclusion is arrived at in another way. It seems
clear, that, in order that an object should have any meaning for
us, there must be a reference to something that is not in the
object, but in us. "Suppose that, by a miracle, a developed
intelligence suddenly fell passionless, was moved by no desire,
felt no pleasure or pain, hoped nothing, feared nothing, loved
nothing, hated nothing. Would it not straightway tend
towards extinction, and dwindle like a flame deprived of air?
It would surely go out, and with it its world1." One might
even go farther and say, it could never cognize a single object,
it could never perceive, and it is doubtful how far it could even
experience. On the other hand, as the writer quoted also

1 Sturt, Principles of Understanding, p. 201.

134 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

points out, "the best observers now agree that the behaviour of
the lowest active creatures cannot be explained by automatism,
and that the movements of an amoeba, pursuing a smaller
amoeba, imply cognition of an object1." Instinct-experience
is cognition of an object or situation, never before cognized,
because of the instinctive interest of the situation, that is,
because of the felt relation of the object to an impulse which
it determines as conscious impulse, and which seeks and finds
its end with reference to it.

This psychological analysis of primary meaning enables us
to interpret the instinctive behaviour and experience of Lloyd
Morgan's moorhen from another point of view. Though
practically there is what may be called * coalescence,' there is,
strictly speaking, no 'coalescence' of 'puppy presentation'
and behaviour experience. There is merely conative unity
and continuity, the normal working out of the interest of a
situation, and f psychical integration.' ' Puppy presentation'
does not seem adequately to describe the first part of the
experience. There was cognition of an object, "puppy," de-
termining and determined by an instinctive impulse, the origin
of which must be sought in the race history of the moorhen,
with felt interest or primary meaning, arising from this relation ;
then there was the behaviour of the moorhen, determined by
the situation and its meaning or interest, constituting the
working out or satisfaction of the impulse and the interest,
contributing secondary meaning to the original perceptual
experience, and possessing primary meaning of its own, at all
its experienced stages. Any emotional disturbance there may
have been, over and above the interest of the situation, must
be left over for later consideration, but, except for the part
played in it by experiences from the internal organs, it was of
a piece with the interest. The important point is, that there
was meaning, as well as instinctive impulse, involved in the
perceptual experience from the start; meaning was not given
to the original presentation by some incomprehensible back-
stroke from the resulting behaviour experience.

1 Principles of Understanding, loc. cit. Cf. Jennings, Behaviour of Lower
Organisms.

vi ] Instinct-Interest and 'Meaning' 135

Though we can analytically distinguish in perceptual ex-
perience impulse, interest, and sensation, it is only by abstrac-
tion that we do so. All three are necessary constituents of the
perceptual experience, but all exist only as its constituents.
One of the most futile of all attempts at psychological simplifi-
cation appears to be the attempt to reduce all experience to
sensation. Owing to the nature of mental process, we can
make the sensational element in perceptual experience the
object of cognition, but we can make neither the impulse nor
the interest the direct object of cognition. The one always,
from its very nature, falls on the subject side, the other, as a
felt relation, on the subject side also, though, as a relation, it
can fall on neither side. Hence, as James, was it not, pointed
out, to try to cognize impulse or interest as object is like trying
to turn round rapidly so as to see our own eyes looking. If we
analyse the object side of experience, we must inevitably find
nothing but sensation ; nevertheless we experience both impulse
and interest, and to deny their existence as ultimate constituents
of experience is to deny experience in a twofold sense, to deny
its evidence and to deny its existence.

At the same time it must be recognized that impulse,
interest, and sensation are not on quite the same footing as
constituents of perceptual experience. Impulse becomes deter-
minate conscious impulse only in relation to the nature of the
object, and in perceptual experience of the object; sensation,
dependent upon the nature of the object, can only be said to
exist, as such, in the other term of the relationship in perceptual
experience ; interest is the relationship felt as primary meaning.
There is no succession or sequence in time, but impulse may be
said to be logically prior to the cognitive aspect of the perceptual
experience, and both impulse and sensation to its affective
aspect or interest. Nevertheless we must regard interest as the
central and relatively stable factor in behaviour experience,
preserving, as it were, the character of the initial and under-
lying impulse, while subordinate impulses and determining
sensations proceed in the working of it out.

The calling of interest the ' primary tissue of meaning ' seems
to require some further explanation. The chief difficulty for

136 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

this conception arises from the fact, that, when we use the term
' meaning,' we generally use it in a logical, rather than a psycho-
logical reference. Hence, when we think of meaning at all, we
are apt to think of logical meaning, and to talk of this as interest
seems rather absurd. But meaning is also a phenomenon of
experience, and, as such, demands a psychological explanation.
This is not the place to develop a psychological theory of meaning.
Still the main points of such a theory seem to be necessary
in order to justify our position.

That position is briefly the following. Primary meaning
must be distinguished from secondary. Secondary meaning is
acquired through experience, but primary meaning is involved in
the first instinct-experience. In secondary meaning two elements
can be distinguished, a cognitive and an affective, and to the
cognitive element in secondary meaning the term ' significance '
in its strict sense may be applied. Primary meaning, or the
primary tissue of meaning, is affective only, is interest.

The psychology of meaning has always presented difficulties,
and more especially to the psychologist of sensationalistic bias.
Such a psychologist will probably reject our interpretation of
primary meaning at once. In his analysis of experience he
finds meaning represented by image and by nothing else. But,
if a psychologist in analysing experience looks only for a parti-
cular kind of psychical element, the chances are that he will
find only what he looks for. The sensationalist will of course
deny the insinuated accusation. But, if he refuses to recognize
as a psychical element, anything which cannot be attended
to in introspective analysis of consciousness, it seems obvious
that he is only looking for a certain kind, or certain kinds of
psychical elements, those which can be attended to.

We may take Titchener as a type of the mode of thought
we are calling sensationalistic. It goes without saying that
a psychologist of Titchener's calibre will not consciously err
in this way. Nevertheless the bias keeps showing itself, and
always characteristically. Thus he replies to Biihler's "It is
impossible to ideate a meaning; one can only know it," with
" Impossible ? But I have been ideating meanings all my life.
And not only meanings but meaning also. Meaning in general

vi] Instinct- Interest and 'Meaning' 137

is represented in my consciousness by another of these impres-
sionist pictures. I see meaning as the blue-grey tip of a kind
of scoop, which has a bit of yellow above it (probably a part of
the handle), and which is just digging into a dark mass of what
appears to be plastic material.... It is conceivable that this
picture is an echo of the oft-repeated admonition to 'dig out
the meaning' of some passage of Greek or Latin1." The
inference seems to be, at this point at any rate — for we would
not willingly misrepresent Titchener — that meaning is analyzable
into imagery.

Sometimes he finds that there are kinaesthetic, as well as
visual images. "Not only do I see gravity, and modesty,
and pride, and courtesy, and stateliness, but I feel or act them
in the mind's muscles2." And, later on in the same work, he
comes to the conclusion that "meaning is originally kinaes-
thetic ; the organism faces the situation by some bodily attitude,
and the characteristic sensations, which the attitude involves,
give meaning to the process that stands at the conscious focus,
are psychologically the meaning of that process3." This last
is practically Lloyd Morgan's 'behaviour experience.'

We have no quarrel with Titchener's inference from such
facts to the non-existence of imageless thought, if by the exist-
ence of imageless thought we mean, that there is a third order
of substantive cognitional element, say the concept4, in addition
to percept and image. Also it must be said that there are few
more subtle psychological analysts than Titchener, so that any
conclusions to which he has come, as a result of psychological
analysis, must be treated with respect. Still there is always
the sensationalist bias to be discounted, and assuredly it appears
to have influenced the analysis here.

To say that meaning is psychologically a kind of 'scoop'
is not the same as saying that it is represented in consciousness,
when he tries to think of it, by such an image. Quite apart
from this criticism, which is after all somewhat superficial, there
are two fundamental criticisms of this view of meaning. The

1 Titchener, Experimental Psychology of the Thought Processes, pp. 18, 19.

2 Op. cit., p. 21.
8 Op. cit., p. 176.

* See Aveling, Consciousness of the Universal.

138 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

first is that which we, following Stout, urged against Lloyd
Morgan's theory of the process of learning by experience in
instinctive behaviour. The experiences of bodily attitude in
facing a situation — the very fact that the earliest meaning is
found in these is itself very significant to us — may qualify the
meaning of that situation for subsequent experience, and the
kinaesthetic imagery may come to represent the meaning of
that situation in subsequent thought of it, but the primary
meaning, without which there could be no such secondary
meaning, must be in the first experience of the situation, and
prior to the behaviour experience. The second is, that the
kind of experience, upon the analysis of which he relies for his
discovery of the psychological nature of meaning, is precisely
that in which psychological, as distinct from logical, meaning
is most difficult to find.

The latter statement is obvious if our analysis of meaning
is correct. Introspection, under the conditions even of the
Association Experiment, may fail to reveal anything in con-
sciousness, except visual, auditory, or kinaesthetic imagery,
as far as the cognitive aspect is concerned, and yet we may
still be able to maintain that imagery is not meaning.

As a matter of fact, the results of association experiments,
devised and carried on by Marbe, Ach, Messer, Watt, Woodworth,
and others, for the express purpose of throwing light upon the
thought processes, have not been negative, but positive, as
regards our present contention or its implications, and against
the contentions of sensationalists, in spite of Titchener's efforts
to explain these results away, and telling in favour of views
expressed long ago by psychologists, otherwise differing so
widely from one another, as Wundt, James, and Stout. Thus
Watt found that "what distinguishes a judgment from a mere
sequence of experiences is the problem1," that "the repro-
ductive tendencies represent the mechanical factor in thinking,
while the problem is what makes it possible that ideas shall be
significantly related2," and Marbe that "all experiences may
become judgments, if it lies in the purpose of the experiencing

1 Experimental Psychology of the Thought Processes, p. 120.

2 Op. cit., p. 175

vi] Instinct- Interest and 'Meaning' 139

subject, that they shall accord, either directly or in meaning,
with other objects1." These results are probably as much as
we can expect this kind of experiment to yield2.

But, after all, the laboratory results merely confirm the
results of introspection under everyday conditions of everyday
experience, and so far have added little, if anything, to these
results. Meaning, in its most obvious and easily recognizable
shape, is an attribute of what we might call the wholes of
experience, and it is meaning that largely determines that they
should be the wholes of experience. I am ' at a loose end/ and
taking up a magazine, turnover the pages idly, until I am
arrested by the title of an article, " Eskimo Traditions and the
Discovery of America by the Norsemen," let us say, though
whether there ever was such an article in any magazine, we do
not know. This title has meaning for me both primary and
secondary, or both meaning and significance. It has meaning
because I am deeply interested in Old Norse history; it has
significance because it refers to events of history, with which
I am already familiar, though from a new standpoint. Hence,
before I have read a word of it, the article has meaning for me,
meaning both affective and cognitive, and it has a meaning
whole. As the reading progresses, this meaning whole is con-
tinuously modified, on the affective side by the satisfaction
of interest here, the development of new interest there, on the
cognitive side by becoming continuously more definite and
particularized. But the meaning of every word is with reference
to the sentence that contains it, of every sentence to the para-
graph, of every paragraph to the meaning whole.

To say that this or that part of the meaning is not in my
consciousness at any particular moment is, it appears to us,
to speak unpsychologically, just as much as to say that part
of the meaning at any moment is in the form of a physiological
state determining consciousness. The facts for psychology are,
that the experience at any moment cannot be divided without
remainder into the particular percepts and images of that
moment, and that the remainder is explicable only in terms of the

1 Experimental Psychology of the Thought Processes, p. 128.

2 See McDougall, Body and Mind, chap. xxn.

140 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

meaning whole and its progressive determination up to that
point.

Or, take an example from perceptual experience, that will
perhaps be more relevant to our purpose, which is the analysis,
not of thought processes in general, but of instinct-experience.
I am engaged in a game of cricket, and have just gone in to bat,
to open the innings, let us say. The bowler delivers the first
ball, apparently straight for my legs. Under ordinary circum-
stances, if any one threw a fairly large, round, hard object like
a cricket ball at my legs, I should get hastily out of the way.
But in cricket the meaning of t^e situation is different, and
prompts to behaviour of a different kind, mainly because of
the particular determination of the cricket interest which is
dominant at the time — to keep up the wicket and make runs.
I might even have seen something in the delivery of the bowler,
which was significant of a break on the ball, and prepare for
the event, so that the kind of meaning we are calling significance
might also be involved, in this form, if not in any other.

What should we find on introspective analysis of conscious-
ness in such a case ? We may analyse the presented situation
into a sensation-complex. But what of the meaning of that
situation which determines behaviour towards it? There is
not much time for imagery, if we consider that the simple
reaction to the visual stimulus will take about a fifth of a second,
and, by that time, the ball is almost on the batsman. But
let us grant some kinaesthetic imagery of the movements
about to be made. Is this the meaning? Surely not.

It seems clear that the meaning of the perceptual situation
is primarily in its relation to my aim, purpose, or ' need ' at the
moment, which relation defines itself in consciousness as the
interest of the situation. To prevent the possibility of mis-
understanding this expression 'defines itself,' it is necessary
to point out that the interest is not a fixed state of consciousness,
but is a qualification of the dynamic of the living activity
dealing with the situation, and therefore changes with the
changing phases of that activity.

Summing up once more our whole view with regard to
interest and meaning, we may say that meaning is a relation,

vi] Imtinct- Interest and 'Meaning' 141

either of the situation to the self, or of the situation, as a part,
to the whole of which it is a part, or of the situation, as part
of a whole, to the other parts of the whole. Primary meaning
is affective, secondary meaning both affective and cognitive,
and inclusive of significance, as we have seen. Secondary
meaning therefore covers the relational elements, constituting
meaning on the objective side, and is essentially based upon
primary meaning, both as regards its affective, and as regards
its cognitive aspect, for a whole is a whole, and a part a part,
in cognitive meaning, only through the fundamental relation
to the self, that is, through primary meaning or interest.

We ought now to be able to get a clearer notion of the
interest factor involved in instinct-experience. One writer
has described instinctive behaviour as our "instinctive prosecu-
tion of the interest of a situation1." All conscious behaviour
may be described in the same way, as the conscious prosecution
of the interest of a situation, the situation being perceptual,
ideally represented, or conceptual. Interest is the universal
characteristic of behaviour-experience. It is also the primary
meaning of a situation, in that it is the immediate consciousness
of a relation between self and presented situation, a relation
4that is primarily felt. The only aspect in which instinct-interest
differs from interest in general, is that it is not determined by
or derived from previous experience of the situation, or due to
needs which have arisen as a result of experience, but is due
to original needs, of the determination and modification of
which the biologist professes to give an account in his evolution
theory.

Beyond these statements, can we give any further account
of instinct interest or of interest in general? At first sight it
does not appear that we can. The main difficulties in the way
seem to be two, the first arising from the nature of language,
which is fitted to express either cognition or action, but not
to express the felt relation that mediates between them, the
second arising from the fact that interest seems to be the very
factor in experience, which introspection finds the greatest
difficulty in reaching, just because it is the central factor.

1 Mitchell, Structure and Growth of the Mind, p. 125.

142 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

Nevertheless interest is a factor in experience, and, in spite of
these difficulties, its description ought not to be impossible.
At all events the attempt further to describe it must be made,
and the attempt should at least indicate by questions where
the main problems lie.

On several occasions previously we have described interest
as a feeling of ' worth whileness.' The first question is as
regards the reference of the ' worthwhileness.' What is it that
is felt as ' worth while ' ? Is it the perceived situation or object ?
Or is it a certain action towards that situation or upon that
object? Or is it the situation arising from the action? The
answer seems to be that it is all three in a certain sense, but
the sense will depend upon the degree of 'psychical integration.'

Interest is dynamic, not static, that is, it is always transition
in living experience. In purely perceptual experience, situation
and action towards situation practically 'coalesce,' and there
is transition in feeling from ' worthwhileness ' to ' satisf yingness '
or ' dissatisfy ingness.' The whole experience is in the present,
but it is a changing present. Where the degree of 'psychical
integration' is high, the 'worthwhileness' attaches primarily
to the result as end, spreads to present situation, and action
towards present situation, as means, but, as before, the prose-
cution of the interest involves the transition *to ' satisf yingness '
with progress towards the attainment of the end. or ' dissatis-
fy ingness' with failure to make progress. In the event of the
transition being from 'worthwhileness' to 'dissatisf yingness,'
the interest in either case, that is with the lowest as with the
highest degree of 'psychical integration,' will take on the form
of emotion, which we shall discuss more fully later.

The second question is as regards the 'qualities' of interest
which are distinguishable in experience. So far we have men-
tioned the three possible phases of interest as ' worthwhileness,'
'satisfyingness,' and ' dissatisfyingness,' each evidently involv-
ing a definite quale of experience. It must be recognized that
this is the exceedingly difficult psychological problem of the
qualities of affective experience. Consequently the solution
we offer must not be taken as laid down in any dogmatic spirit,
but rather as a tentative suggestion. We should be inclined

vi J Instinct- Interest and ' Meaning ' 143

to take these qualities as the fundamental and ultimate
qualities of affective experience, and these three alone. This
appears to involve the denial of ultimate qualitative differences
between emotions on the affective side. But it really involves
the explanation of these qualitative differences on a basis other
than the interest as such.

Without anticipating our discussion of the emotions, and
their relation to Instinct, we should suggest that the undeni-
able qualitative differences between different emotions may be
explained thus. So far as the prosecution of the instinct-
interest takes its normal course, and ' worth whileness ' passes
normally into 'satisfyingness,' through the definite behaviour
provided for by the neural prearrangement we call Instinct,
when we are speaking biologically, so far there is no emotion.
But if in any way this normal prosecution of the instinct-
interest is checked, 'tension' will arise, a tension in feeling
which is emotion. The difference between this 'tension' and
the simple instinct-interest or ' worth whileness ' is a difference
in the affective consciousness in some respects analogous to
the difference between conception and perception in the cog-
nitive. That is to say, feeling 'tension' represents a further,
though secondary, development of affection. None the less
is it for experience purely affective.

The qualitative differences between the different emotions
cannot be explained in terms of the organic resonance, though
this will undoubtedly accentuate the differences, nor can they,
we believe, be explained in terms of the experienced impulse,
the conation, but only in terms of qualitative differences in
affection. The feeling 'tension,' therefore, which is emotion,
must show these qualitative differences. But that there should
be affective differences in- the felt 'tension' or emotion, which
are not in the original affective element, from which the ' tension '
arises, can apparently only be explained, though itself not
impulse but affection, as the effect of the urgency of a particular
impulse, temporarily denied the appropriate issue in action.

An illustration of emotion, fairly low down the scale of
organic life, which seems entirely unambiguous, and is therefore
valuable, is given by the Peckhams in describing the behaviour

144 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

of an Ammophila : " Her stops were so frequent and so lengthy
that nearly an hour was occupied in going about twenty-five
feet. When, at last, the nest was reached, the plug was
removed from the entrance and the caterpillar dragged in, but
almost immediately the wasp came out backwards with the
point of an egg projecting from the extremity of her abdomen.
She ran round and round the nest in a distracted way four or
five times and then went back, dragged the caterpillar out, and
carried it away. The egg came out further and further, and
finally dropped on the ground and was lost1."

This illustration from insect life emphasizes one character-
istic of the emotion, which is perhaps too often forgotten,
and that is its ineffectiveness in securing its end, when roused
in an excessive degree. We should not like to assert that this
is characteristic of all emotions, but it is certainly characteristic
of most. The illustration also shows us one kind of circum-
stance, under which the ' tension' of feeling, which is emotion,
will be produced, that is, when the urgency of the impulse is
such that action cannot keep pace with it.

Another kind of circumstance, under which 'tension' will
arise, is when there is no inherited provision for the precise
reaction which is appropriate to a particular situation. Looking
at the matter from a biological standpoint, we see that the
survival value of precise reactions for particular situations is
distinctly limited to a stable and not too complex environment.
In a changing and complex environment plasticity of reaction,
that is to say, the lack of a fixed provision for particular
reactions to particular situations, may involve a biological
advantage, in spite of the fact that the plasticity involves some
delay of reaction, and therefore some feeling 'tension.' Hence
in the higher animals and man we should expect to find, as we
do find, plasticity of reaction, and going along with this, and
pari passu with it, signs of emotional development.

In addition to this felt 'tension,' as an affective experience,
which is due to the temporary suspending of the normal tran-
sition from ' worth whileness ' to ' satisfyingness,' we must also
recognize another affective quality, in the vague 'restlessness'

1 Wasps Social and Solitary, p. 47.

vi] Instinct-Interest and 'Meaning' 145

or 'uneasiness,' which is present when a 'need' is neither
definite nor determinate, but is merely a 'need' of something
else than the present experience affords. This affective state,
while evidently in the main a variety of 'dissatisfyingness,'
seems to be emotional and complex.

The usual view that 'pleasure' and 'pain' are the funda-
mental qualities of our affective consciousness is not quite so
easily reconciled with our view regarding the fundamental
characteristics of affection, nor indeed with our whole position
as regards the nature of instinct-experience. To some extent
the view is a popular, rather than psychological, view, since
both terms connote a considerable variety of affective experience.
There is no real difficulty about pleasure, which, where it has
not an emotional character, may be regarded as on the whole
synonymous with our 'satisfyingness.' What we call pain,
on the other hand, may or may not be 'dissatisfyingness/
Generally it is more. In fact pain, so far as it is affective,
is usually emotional, or at least may be explained as emotional.
The relation of pleasure and pain to action, is, however, so
important that we must consider the question in its wider
bearings, and, in the course of the discussion, the real nature
of pain, in the usual sense as an affective experience, will become
clearer.

We have all along taken for granted, that, in describing
instinct-experience, we were describing the original form of all
experience, and we have maintained that it is impossible to
understand instinct- experience in any other way than as
perceptual experience. In other words, we have maintained
that our description holds of the most elementary experience,
such experience as an amoeba, for example, if it has experience
at all, must have. The chief difficulty for such a view will
arise in connection with the pleasure-pain factor in experience.

In many quarters the opinion is strongly held that, though
instinctive behaviour may be determined in some such way
as described, that is independently of previous agreeable or
disagreeable experience, yet it cannot be denied that behaviour
is also determined as a result of agreeable or disagreeable
experiences, and, in such cases, the meaning or interest being

D. 10

146 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

taken as the agreeableness or disagreeableness, we cannot hold
that the impulse is prior to it, either logically or temporally,
while perceptual experience does not seem the starting-point
of the behaviour, and may not indeed form part of the behaviour-
experience at all.

The difficulty is undeniable, but possibly not insoluble.
If we accept such a view with regard to behaviour originating
in agreeable or disagreeable feelings, it appears to involve
either giving up the view that in Instinct we have the sole
original driving forces in human nature, or denning Instinct in
such a way as to include such cases of behaviour determined
originally by agreeable or disagreeable experience, and therefore
giving up the view that instinct-experience is, as such, per-
ceptual experience.

Are we compelled to choose one of these alternatives?
There seems to be one way of avoiding the difficulty and
escaping the alternatives, and that is by a view, which again
it would be absurd to present in a dogmatic way, which can
only be put forward as a hypothesis, but which seems to explain
the facts, without involving the abandonment of our position
with regard to instinct-experience and instinctive behaviour.

The hypothesis depends upon the sensational character of
pain. Practically all sensations are either agreeable or dis-
agreeable, but pain, as a sensation, is nearly always disagreeable.
Hence the painful has become identified with the disagreeable,
or rather the highly disagreeable, in all sensations, and has
been opposed to the pleasant, whereas painful, or something
corresponding to it, was originally a sensational quality with
no opposite.

That pain really is an independent sensation can hardly
be doubted, with the accumulating evidence we now have.
The exploration of pain spots, the experiments of Dr Head and
his assistants1, abnormal conditions, artificial or morbid, all
point that way unmistakably. The extraordinary case of
natural analgesia, quoted by Ribot2, of an intelligent and suc-
cessful professional man, who had as little sensation of pain as a

1 Brain, xxvm (1905), p. 99.

- Psychology of the Emotions, p. 33, footnote.

vi] Instinct- Interest and i Meaning' 147

marble statue, who bit off his own wounded finger, and under-
went various surgical operations without anaesthetic, has
always seemed to us impossible of interpretation, except on
the analogy of the blind or the deaf.

There is still, however, the difficulty with regard to the
extent to which pain sensation will determine cognition of an
object or situation in perceptual experience. Pain, it has been
asserted, as a sensation does not externalize itself1, that is,
does not determine the perception of an object. Now this
may be the case with the human being, but it does not seem
to settle the matter. The question really is whether pain as
sensation could, under any conceivable conditions, determine
the cognition of an object or situation, as, for example, sight
does in the case of the human being, whether it has cognitive
value in this sense. And we must discriminate. It may be
that for us the cognitive value of pain as sensation is not zero,
but infinitesimally small. But for us cognition is determined
by sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell, and so on. Imagine an
organism with all the other senses wanting, and with only the
pain sense, or what corresponds to it under these conditions.
Such may be the lowest organisms, in which there is some
slight trace of experience ; such in all likelihood they are.

Our perceptual world is largely a world of visible and audible
things. Helen Keller's world is a world of things tactual. She
longed to "touch the mighty sea and feel its roar." On the
other hand, taste and smell have for us a very much lower
cognitive jralue with less pronounced objective reference. In
fact the agreeableness or disagreeableness of a smell — especially
the latter — is much more prominent in our experience than its
quality or its objective reference. For a dog, on the contrary,
smell must have a much higher cognitive value, that is, relative
to his other senses, and apparently still more for lower forms
of life.

In the organism, which is confined to pain sensation or its
analogue, there seems no reason to deny that pain may function
in determining cognition of an object or situation. The ex-
perienced world of such an organism must be narrow, and
1 See Ribot, Psychology of the Emotions, p. 38.

10—2

1 48 The Psychological Nature of Instinct [CH.

apparently monotonous, though that is by no means certain.
But that it has an experienced world of some kind may reason-
ably be maintained. If the possibility of an experienced world
of objects or perceptual situations, mediated by pain sensation,
or what corresponds to it, is admitted, our main theoretical
difficulty has disappeared. It is not easy for us to imagine the
nature of such experience, or to express it even if we could
imagine it. For we do not seem to be able to revive the sensa-
tional element of pain as image, and our language is the con-
ceptual analysis and synthesis of our own experience. Never-
theless we might attempt to characterize such experience in
a general way, and, in so doing, we must inevitably fall back
upon the form of our previous description of instinct-experience.

There is impulse, becoming conscious and determinate in
relation to pain sensation, which is conditioned by the nature
of the object or situation, the result being perceptual experience
of a situation, perceptual experience of a kind we cannot imagine,
yet not unintelligible to us. Further there is meaning or
interest, which, in the 'tension' form is quite intelligible to us,
if we consider it as the disagreeableness or pain affection. The
interest, as such, is not logically or temporally prior to impulse
and sensation, but temporally simultaneous with, and logically
posterior to both.

There is nothing inherently absurd in regarding sense pain,
on its affective side, as of an emotional nature, in our sense
of emotional, in a primordial consciousness. The emotional
experience of an organism, the whole of whose presented world
of situations is mediated by pain sensation, would almost in-
evitably be as undifferentiated as its sense experience. With
the usurping of the cognitive function of this primordial
sensation by the more highly differentiated special senses,
there has gone the development of an equally differentiated
affective life. Pain now corresponds simply to disorganization,
not only disorganization of the physical organism, but also
disorganization of this primordial experience through the sub-
merging of the cognitive function of the original sense, and
the consequent impossibility of the development of a normal
impulse or interest. If among experiences of the pleasant

vi] Instinct- Interest and 'Meaning* 149

there is any element which cannot be explained, as already
suggested, in terms of ' satisfyingness,' it would be interpreted
in the same way. In this case, however, the lack of any special
sensations of the same nature as pain sensations would con-
stitute a rather formidable difficulty.

From the general point of view, therefore, of the nature
of instinct-experience, pain does not present an insoluble diffi-
culty. It must, however, be granted that, in the human being,
pain in its affective phase, as it were, originates the impulse
to avoid it or escape from it, and that prior to cognition of
object or situation. It must also be granted that, in the human
being, in addition to the instinctive springs of action, or motive
forces which determine behaviour prior to individual experience,
pleasure and pain are also motive forces depending upon indi-
vidual experience.

Our solution of the difficulty is mainly of theoretical interest,
but we shall later include the so-called appetites among human
instincts, and these seem to differ from the instincts proper in an
analogous way. The suggested psychological view is, therefore,
that sense pain, and the uneasiness which determines the
appetites (specific), represent the emotional or 'tension' form
of the interest of the most primitive consciousness, the cognition
of which was in terms of a sensation or sensations of which pain
sensation is the survival, and that the interests of the human
being are on a higher stage of affective development, correlated
on the cognitive side with the development and differentiation
of the cognitive element dependent on the nature of objects
or situations, through the development and differentiation of
the other avenues of sense experience.

CHAPTER VII

CLASSIFICATION OF INSTINCTIVE TENDENCIES OF MAN-
INSTINCT AND EMOTION

The basis of the developed mind and character of man
must be sought in the original and inborn tendencies of his
nature. From these all development and education must start,
and with these all human control, for the purposes of education
and development, as for the purposes of social and community
life, must operate. These are more or less truisms, but they
are truisms which have been ignored in much of the educational
practice of the past, and in many of the best-intentioned efforts
at social reorganization and reform. The original human
nature, with which the psychologist is concerned, consists,
first of all, of capacities, such as the capacity to have sensations,
to perceive, to reason, to learn, and the like, and, secondly, of
conscious impulses, the driving forces to those activities
without which the capacities would be meaningless. To the
latter we are applying the term ' Instinct.' We have tried
to describe what is psychologically involved in Instinct; we
must now enter upon a study of the manifestations of Instinct
in Man.

It seems hardly necessary to emphasize once again the fact,
that the psychologist's problems are different from the biologist's,
in precisely the same way in which the meaning of Instinct
for the psychologist differs from its meaning for the biologist.
The biologist, as we have seen, is concerned with animal
behaviour in reference to its biological origins and biological
results. He argues from the behaviour, and the conditions
which determine it, to the existence of a more or less modifiable

CH. vn] Instinct arid Emotion 151

nervous structure, of which the behaviour is the functioning,
and which he attempts to explain biologically, and the physio-
logist physiologically. The psychologist is concerned with the
experience, which underlies, we may say, instinctive behaviour,
determines that it is perceptual experience, and that it involves
a characteristic impulse and interest. Both the biologist and
the psychologist will naturally attempt to describe the whole
fact as it appears to them, and, in doing so, the biologist may
refer to experience, and the psychologist to nervous structure ;
but they will only be fully intelligible to one another, so long
as they realize that they are concerned essentially with different
aspects, and that experience cannot be described in terms of the
one science, any more than nervous structure can be described
in terms of the other.

This constant emphasis upon the contrast between the
psychological and the biological point of view would not be
necessary, were it not for the fact that the prevailing view of
Instinct, during the last generation or so, has been the biological,
the result being that we have become accustomed to oppose
animal behaviour to human behaviour, regarding the one as
typically instinctive, the other as typically intelligent, and
also to maintain that the instincts and instinctive tendencies
of human nature are insignificant. Had the psychologist been
clear as regards the psychological nature of Instinct, this position
could not have developed. For, though perceptual experience
is more and more overlaid by the higher mental processes, it
always underlies them, and, though control of primitive impulse
becomes more and more complex, it is always a control by that
which draws its controlling force, ultimately and fundamentally,
from primitive impulses, never a control ab extra.

The psychology of the present day is much indebted to
McDougall for his constant emphasis upon this latter principle,
though, as we have already seen, Hutcheson, Hume, Schopen-
hauer were no less emphatic. It must be confessed, however,
that there are at least two rather formidable difficulties with
regard to the recognition and enumeration of the instinctive
tendencies of man. The one is that indicated by James1, the

1 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 390.

152 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH.

fact that there is foresight of the end on every occasion, save
the first, of acting out an instinctive impulse, and the human
being cannot therefore be said to act instinctively save on the
first occasion. The other, which is more serious, is that in man
an instinctive impulse is comparatively seldom definite and
determinate, with regard either to the objects or situations,
in connection with which it becomes conscious, or to the actions
or modes of behaviour to which it leads. This latter difficulty
is probably the main explanation of the opinion so very generally
held, and expressed, as we have seen, by a psychologist of the
standing of Stout, that in the human being the instincts are
relatively few and unimportant.

The tendency to belittle the influence of Instinct on the
behaviour of man was accentuated by the constant discussion,
on the part of the biologist, of that very type of instinctive
behaviour, which is most remote from human instinct, the
instinctive behaviour of insects, like the ant, the bee, the wasp,
'pure' instinct, as the biologist termed it. 'Pure' instinct of
this type, it must be admitted, though not wholly absent from
human nature, especially in the early stages of child develop-
ment, is relatively unimportant in the developed life and experi-
ence of the adult human being. But such instinct is 'pure,'
precisely because, and in so far as, the accompanying experience
is ' pure ' perception, because, and in so far as, the consciousness
is a ' present moment ' consciousness, the mental life a series of
sparks or flashes.

The discussion of 'pure' instinct by the biologist is easily
understood. In this type of instinct, he feels that he can
describe the whole fact more adequately in biological terms,
because there is apparently but a slight departure from reflex
action, the departure being, it is true, due to the only factor,
which he cannot describe in biological terms, but that factor
seemingly playing an insignificant part in the whole, so insig-
nificant that he could neglect it, and without great error
regard instinctive action as merely compound reflex action,
as Spencer did.

Further, it is behaviour that concerns the biologist, and,
in the case of 'pure' instinct, the functioning of an original

vn] Instinct and Emotion 153

nervous structure comes very near being a full explanation of
all the observed facts of the behaviour. In the adult human
being, on the contrary, the functioning of an original nervous
structure can explain but a small part of the whole fact. If then
the psychologist adopts the standpoint of the biologist, as
several psychologists have done, and looks only for 'pure'
instinct in man, he easily finds it possible to hold that this is to
all intents and purposes absent, that it can be ignored in psycho-
logy, and that the human being differs from the animal in respect
that his behaviour is controlled by ideas and purposes, while the
animal's behaviour is controlled by feelings and instincts.

We have seen that many of the older psychologists did not
take this view, recognizing that the original springs of human
action are either instinctive or of the instinctive* order, and that
human reason is in the main applied in the seeking out of means
for the attainment of ends, determined ultimately by these
original instinctive forces. McDougall has recently revived the
view of these older psychologists, and it is the view which we
also intend to adopt. In what follows, therefore, we shall
deal mainly with those impulses in the human being, which
have been generally acknowledged to be instinctive or innate,
concentrating attention, like McDougall, upon those which
seem to be of primary importance for education and for com-
munity life, rather than upon those which may be regarded as
manifestations of 'pure' instinct, unless these are important
on other grounds.

We cannot, however, adopt the general point of view of
McDougall without at least mentioning the fact that there is
another way of dealing with the human instincts, in support
of which a strong line of argument may be developed. No
one can fail to be struck in reading James's account of human
instincts1 with the very heterogeneous nature of the group of
native tendencies discussed. From highly specific types of
behaviour, like sucking, or carrying an object grasped to the
mouth, he passes to such general modes of behaviour as those
shown under the influence of the play tendency and curiosity,
of emulation and imitation, without indicating that there is

1 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, chap. xxiv.

154 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH.

any marked difference between actions determined by instinc-
tive tendencies at the one extreme, and actions determined by
those at the other.

At the very beginning of his treatment of instincts, James
deprecates the method of classifying "definite tendencies by
naming abstractly the purpose they subserve, such as self-
preservation, defence," and the like1, and insists further that
the strict psychological way of regarding instincts is to regard
them as actions, which "all conform to the general reflex type2,"
that is the type of a definite response to a definite situation.

It seems as objectionable to speak of an instinct of imitation,
or play, or curiosity, as it is to speak of an instinct of self-
preservation, if we apply to human instincts the criteria, which
James wishes to apply. As it turns out, he himself finds it
convenient to ignore his own criteria, as soon as he comes to
discuss the more important human instincts and instinctive
tendencies, and for a reason, which we shall presently find to
be psychologically very significant.

A more recent writer has revived James's criteria, and also
the point of view from which James starts, and has, with some
success, maintained this point of view throughout his discus-
sion of human instincts3. Thorndike, looking upon instinctive
tendencies as tendencies to respond with a definite response
to certain definite situations, makes an elaborate attempt to
displace "the vague facts that man has instincts of 'pugnacity,'
'gregariousness,' 'cruelty,' 'curiosity,' ' constructiveness/ 'play,'
and the like4," by a description of the definite responses to
definite situations, which are, in his opinion, what we really
find in human nature, and what we classify in this way merely
for convenience, but not without sacrificing to some extent, or
at least imperilling, a sound psychology.

We might admit — though as a matter of fact we do not —
that Thorndike's position is theoretically sound, and yet prefer
to adopt McDougall's point of view, for two reasons, either
of which seems sufficient. In the first place, we believe that

1 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 383. 2 Op. cit, vol. n, p. 384.

3 Thorndike, Educational Psychology, vol. i. The, Original Nature of Man,
or Educational Psychology, Briefer Course.

4 Briefer Course, p. 11.

vii] Instinct and Emotion 155

Thorndike's * definiteness ' is more or less illusory, when we
come to the practical business of enumerating and classifying
the human instincts, and, not only is it illusory, but it is mis-
leading, since it gives the impression or the suggestion that
specific responses, as in the case of the behaviour determined
by fear, with respect to specific objects, characterize the actions
of the human child, in the same way as they characterize the be-
haviour of the young of lower animals. We shall attempt to show
later that this is not the case, at least to any significant extent.
In the second place, for the understanding of human interests
and motives, more especially with a view to the development
of a psychology of education, the * class names ' are exceedingly
valuable, since their very 'vagueness' indicates that indeter-
minateness, which is, for the educator, so significant a feature
of the instinctive equipment of the human being.

That Thorndike's position cannot be maintained even
theoretically, that his formula is inapplicable, not only to
many human instincts, but also to some of the instincts of
lower animals, even of animals fairly low down the scale, will
appear, when we have considered one important aspect of
McDougall's position, viz., the relation assumed between instinct
and emotion. Whether McDougall is right or wrong in his con-
tentions in this regard, he clearly indicates one characteristic of
human instincts, which would apparently be quite inexplicable
on Thorndike's view of the essential nature of all instincts.
Whether right or wrong, we say, because the facts are undeniable,
and it is only with regard to his interpretation of the facts, that
McDougall can be wrong, while the facts themselves seem to be
of such a kind that Thorndike cannot be right. But let us
consider McDougall's position.

By defining Instinct as he does1, McDougall raises a very
important question regarding the fundamental nature, not only
of Instinct, but also of Emotion. Is Emotion primarily and
fundamentally the affective element in Instinct? Or, to put
the question in another form, which will probably be more
convenient for us at present, is the interest involved in the
instinct-experience always of such a character psychologically,

1 See above, p. 15, or Social Psychology, p. 29.

156 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH.

that we ought to, or can, call it an emotion? The question is
not whether, under certain conditions, the interest may develop
into an emotion, but whether it is necessarily an emotion from
the outset. Our answer has to some extent been anticipated
in our discussion of instinct-interest. But it is now necessary
to consider the question in fuller detail and with special refer-
ence to the instincts of Man.

McDougall himself grants, that, in the case of some of the
simpler instincts of Man, the affective element would not be
called an emotion in the popular sense of the word. In such
cases "the affective element is not at all prominent; and,
though no doubt the quality of it is peculiar in each case, yet
we cannot readily distinguish these qualities, and have no
special names for them1." But we have names for the affective
elements of our experience "in the case of the principal power-
ful instincts," the names in fact which we generally use in
speaking of the instincts themselves, and the experiences are
of the kind to which the generic term ' emotion ' is applied. But
McDougall maintains that, psychologically speaking, the term
* emotion' ought not to be restricted to such experiences,
while he later shows that there are cases where it is applied
quite illegitimately in ordinary speech. Hence the inference
from McDougalTs whole argument is, that, even as regards the
simpler instincts where the affective element is not prominent,
this affective element is psychologically emotion, while, in
other cases, affective experiences — as, for example, surprise —
ordinarily regarded as emotions, are not emotions psycho-
logically.

Several questions are involved, but the first question seems
to be whether, in our adoption, for psychological purposes,
of the popular term 'emotion/ giving it thereby a definite and
scientific meaning, we are justified, on the one hand, in extending
it to cover the affective elements in every instinct-experience,
and, on the other hand, limiting its meaning in such a way as
to exclude several experiences popularly included. In the first
instance, it is worthy of note, that, by so extending the meaning
of 'emotion,' we may cause it to usurp the place of another

1 Social Psychology, p. 46.

vn] Instinct and Emotion 157

equally good word, and at the same time leave without any
definite descriptive term a mode of experience, for which the
term 'emotion' seems peculiarly suitable. Is not 'interest'
the better word to apply to the affective element in instinct-
experience, as such, and is not 'emotion' something more than
this, something in a sense secondary? That is the view we
have taken in the previous chapter. In the second place, by
excluding such experiences as surprise and the like, we appear
to be narrowing the application of the word ' emotion ' on the
other side, so to speak, in such a way as to necessitate the
employment of still another descriptive term to cover modes
of affective experience of this kind.

An alternative view to McDougall's has already been
sketched on general lines, but we may recapitulate, in order
to place the two views side by side. A decision between them
must depend on the results of introspective study of the various
kinds of experience involved.

The alternative hypothesis to McDougall's is that the
affective element in instinct-experience becomes emotion,
only when action in satisfaction of the interest is suspended
or checked, when, as we expressed it before, interest passes
into 'tension.' If impulse immediately realizes itself in the
appropriate action towards the situation, then there is no
emotion in any strict sense of emotion. At a first glance
this hypothesis seems to account best for the facts, when we
consider especially those instinctive activities which are
accompanied by no pronounced emotion. On the other hand,
there are undoubtedly certain facts, which favour McDougall's
hypothesis. For example, in the 'fear' instinct, or in the
'fighting' instinct, the emotion is the predominant character-
istic of the whole experience. This suggests at any rate that
in the human being, we have at least two types of instinct to
deal with, and that, if Thorndike's formula is applicable to the
one type, it can scarcely be expected to apply to the other.

In the meantime, however, let us attempt to settle this
question of the relation of Instinct to Emotion, and return
to the bearing of the facts on Thorndike's view.

Some definition of emotion would seem to be necessary,

158 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [en.

before we proceed to decide between these alternative hypotheses
regarding this relation. Unfortunately a generally accepted
psychological definition of emotion is not easy to find. Psycho-
logists, who have defined emotion, have generally defined it
in such a way as to lead on to, or support, a particular theory
of the emotions. Thus Kiilpe regards emotion as a "fusion of
feeling and organic sensation," Hoffding as "pleasure-pain in
association with the idea of its cause," Sully as "a mass jof
sensuous and representative material with a predominant
affective tone," Ward as a "complete psychosis involving cogni-
tion, pleasure-pain and conation1." The best course therefore
is apparently to enumerate those features which characterize
all emotional experiences, and to start from such an enumeration
as a provisional psychological definition of emotion.

The definitions cited indicate most of the prominent charac-
teristics of emotion as an experience.

(a) In the first place, emotion always involves an affective
relation to an object, either perceptual or ideal.

(6) In the second place, the pleasure-pain colouring is
nearly always pronounced. One might in fact maintain that
'emotion,' as popularly understood, always involves this accen-
tuated pleasure-pain factor, so much so, that a considerable
number of psychologists have taken this as the essential char-
acteristic of the experience.

(c) In the third place, 'organic resonance,' as it has been
called, is in general well-marked. Again certain psychologists,
the most notable being James, have taken this as the essential
characteristic, but it has been recognized as a prominent
characteristic from Descartes and Malebranche onwards.

(d) In the fourth place, emotion involves a feeling-attitude
of such a kind, that "actions of a special sort, and these alone,
appeal to us2." Our consciousness is, as it were, narrowed,
and also specialized, the emotion affecting cognition and action
both by way of inhibition, and by way of reinforcement. This
again has been taken as the fundamental fact by some psycho-
logists.

1 For the various definitions see Irons, Psychology of Ethics, p. 1 f .

2 Irons, Psychology of Ethics, p. 3.

vn] Instinct and Emotion 159

(e) In the fifth place, emotion involves an impulsive force,
a source of driving power, so to speak, which, in the more
marked cases, tends to suspend the higher mental processes,
and to overwhelm purposes, resolutions, and principles, by its
irresistible urgency towards immediate action.

If we consider that all emotions, to a greater or less extent,
show these characteristics, we must apparently decide against
McDougall's view, which would include only the first and fourth
as essential to emotion, the others appearing only when the
emotional state becomes accentuated. But these are the
characteristics merely of that interest, which we have all along
recognized as a necessary accompaniment of instinctive activity.

A recent writer on this subject, Alexander F. Shand1, comes
to practically the same conclusion, but on somewhat different
grounds. He points out, that, "when the activity of the
instinct is most sudden and unopposed, the emotion, if it be
brought into activity at all, will be of less intensity and definite-
ness." This seems incontrovertible, and in the limiting case
the emotion may be considered entirely to disappear. When
Shand passes on to argue that "many instincts of great indi-
vidual importance and distinctness have no corresponding
distinctive emotion2," and cites, as an instance, the nest-
building instinct in birds, he is on much more "doubtful ground.
The obvious rejoinder is, that we are in no position to say
whether there is a distinctive emotion involved in the nest-
building instinct or not. Shand' s analysis of Instinct into
impulse and sensation is also open to grave objection. If there
is not an affective element involved in all instinctive activity,
it is difficult to see how the characteristic instinct-emotions
could develop under any circumstances, and that there are
such Shand acknowledges.

We seem then compelled to take" the view that the instinct-
emotion is not an invariable accompaniment of instinctive
activity, but that the instinct-interest is, that the instinct-
emotion is due to what we previously called 'tension,' that is,
in the ordinary case, to arrest of the impulse, to the denying
of immediate satisfaction to the interest.

1 The Foundations of Character, London, 1914. 2 Op. cit., p. 371.

160 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH.

This arrest of the impulse may arise from a variety of
circumstances, but, as we have seen, in the case of the human
being one set of circumstances is specially important. With
many instinctive impulses, and, among these, some of very
great significance, there is no provision in the organism, by
means of any neural prearrangement, for that particular course
of action, which will meet the particular individual case.
Thorndike disagrees, but we shall consider his views imme-
diately. It follows, that there must be at least momentary
arrest of the impulse, while the particular course of action is
being intelligently determined — intelligently, if only oh the
perceptual level.

If this is a valid explanation of the instinct-emotion, then
we ought to find in a comparative study of the instincts of
animals, representing different stages or levels of intelligence,
that, in the case of certain instincts, the development of the
emotional element in instinctive behaviour proceeds pari passu,
on the whole, with the dropping out of inherited special adjust-
ments for particular reactions to particular situations. And
that is what we apparently do find. Romanes has discussed
the emotional manifestations of organisms at different levels1,
and though, as he points out, the inference to the emotional
life of animals "necessarily becomes of less and less validity,
as we pass through the animal kingdom to organisms less and
less like our own2," we cannot fail to be struck by the fact,
that the manifestations of emotion become rarer and rarer,
and more and more ambiguous, as we descend the scale, and
as instinctive activities become more and more fixed and definite.
First the self-feelings disappear, then the emotions connected
with the distinctively social instincts, then curiosity, and finally
we are left with fear and anger, even these disappearing in
the lowest.

What appears to be the biological function and significance
of emotion would lead us to expect precisely this phenomenon.
Biologically the function of emotion is apparently to reinforce

1 Animal Intelligence, pp. 45, 155, 204, 242, 270, 329, 334. Mental Evolution
in Animals, chap. xx.

2 Mental Evolution, p. 341.

vn] Instinct and Emotion 161

impulse and interest. This reinforcement will be necessary
in two cases, either where an obstacle must be surmounted, or
where a more or less prolonged course of trying to find the
appropriate reaction is necessary, owing to the fact that no
neural prearrangement provides for the precise action in a
particular case. In the first set of circumstances, in addition
to the appropriate emotion, whatever that may be, anger
generally develops, as a further reinforcement. In the second,
anger will not meet the needs of the situation, since only actions
of a certain kind will satisfy the impulse and interest involved,
and only the appropriate emotion can secure such actions.

Though we cannot accept McDougall's view, that the
primary emotion, as such, is merely the affective element in
instinct-experience, we are in entire agreement with him on
what appear to be the main points. There are certain instincts,
of vast importance in both human and animal life, of which
an emotion is, under normal conditions, one of the most pro-
minent characteristics. At the same time there are, it is true,
in addition, minor instincts, characterizing the behaviour of the
young child, where the interest is not usually of the emotional
type. But the important point is that the great instincts of
human nature have all their accompanying and typical emotion.

We must, therefore, in the case of man and the higher
animals, distinguish between instincts, which approximate the
' pure ' type, and the great instincts which are characteristically
emotional. We may now turn to Thorndike's view, for which
this fact would seem to be an insurmountable difficulty.
Thorndike would recognize but one type of instinct, and the
great instincts, like fear, anger, curiosity, and the like, he would
regard, not as single instincts, but rather as groups of instinc-
tive tendencies, all of the normal 'pure' type. Hence, in his
opinion, the psychologist cannot rest satisfied with 'vague'
class-names, like 'fear,' 'anger,' 'curiosity,' but must attempt
to determine what precise situation produces each particular
reaction.

Take fear. "The inner perturbation which we call the
emotion of fear, running, crouching, clinging, starting, tremb-
ling, remaining stock-still, screaming, covering the eyes, opening

D. 11

162 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH.

the mouth and eyes, a temporary cessation followed by an
acceleration of the heart-beat, difficulty in breathing and
paleness, sweating and erection of the hair, are responses of
which certain ones seem bound, apart from training, to certain
situations, such as sudden loud noises or clutches, the sudden
appearance of strange objects, thunder and lightning, loneliness,
and the dark1."

If the emotion or 'perturbation' is essentially the same in
all cases of different responses, that at least shows that the
responses belong together in some way. But possibly Thorndike
would not acknowledge that the emotion is the same. Taking,
then, the other responses which he specifies, we find that they
can be classified into different groups. Some of them belong
to the * organic resonance' of the emotion, and will therefore
show themselves whenever the fear reaches a certain intensity,
be the situation which arouses the fear what it may. Take
for example the erection of the hair. This indeed is so little
a specific response, that it is, in various animals, both a symptom
of fear and a symptom of anger2. Darwin holds that it is, in
fear, more or less "an incidental result," rather than a biologic-
ally useful reaction, comparable with "the profuse sweating
from an agony of pain or terror3." The other phenomena
mentioned by Thorndike are real responses, and these belong
to one of two groups — responses which represent ' flight' in one
form or another, and responses which represent 'concealment.'

Shand4 would distinguish four varieties of fear according
to the different reactions in each case, where the reaction is
flight, where it is concealment, where it is silence and immo-
bility, and where it is keeping close to some one or something
for protection. Of these reactions the second, third, and
fourth are apparently all varieties of a single type of reaction.
Shand indeed enumerates five further varieties of instinctive
fear, where the reaction is shrinking or starting back, where
it is paralysis or immobility, where it is crying for help or pro-
tection, where it is aggressive action as of an animal at bay,
and disinterested fear for young, where the safety of the young

1 Thorndike, Educational Psychology, Briefer Course, p. 20.

2 Darwin, Expression of the Emotions, chap. iv.

3 Op. cit., p. 102. 4 Foundations of Character, p. 201.

vn] Instinct and Emotion 163

is first secured. Three of these are very ambiguous, and
suggest something more than fear, while the other two do not
seem to be more than varieties or phases of the first and second.
It must be noted that Shand, though apparently agreeing with
Thorndike, recognizes all these varieties of instinctive behaviour
as belonging to a definite system, of which the emotion is a more
or less constant characteristic. The primary emotion is, for
Shand, always such a system. v

The one great difficulty for Thorndike's view, that there
are very many fear instincts, is, as we have already indicated,
the emotion itself, which is always, as far as human experience
goes, characteristically the same emotion, whatever the particu-
lar response may be. Not only so, but the particular response
does not of itself serve to satisfy or remove the emotion. The
emotion only disappears when the response has secured its end —
the avoidance of the danger. Shand is perfectly clear on this
point. But it explains another fact, which on Thorndike's view
is very difficult of explanation, the fact that all the different
responses may be tried in turn to escape any given danger.

Moreover, with the human being at least, it is impossible
to say beforehand what the response to a given situation will
be, that is, whether it will be of the 'flight' or of the 'conceal-
ment' type. Thorndike controverts this view1, maintaining
that the sight of a large animal coming towards us will, as a rule,
be responded to by running away, rather than by hiding,
whereas a violent thunderstorm will be responded to by hiding,
rather than by running away2. This is very plausible reasoning,
and, at a first glance, appears sound. But further reflection
will convince us that it is not sound. Behaviour will be
largely determined, first of all, by the circumstances of the
case, by what kind of response will best secure safety. It will
be determined, in the second place, by the intensity of the feai
aroused, and two individuals may behave in two entirely
different ways, in response to the same situation, according to
the degree of fear aroused. One may escape by climbing a tree,
jumping into a river, or running away, while the other stands
rooted to the spot, unable to move hand or foot.

1 Thorndike, Briefer Course, p. 21. 2 Op. cit., p. 22.

11—2

164 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH.

If for the human being 'running away' is normally the
instinctive response to the situation 'large animal approaching/
and 'hiding' to the situation 'thunder and lightning,' it is
somewhat remarkable that some animals, even better fitted
for running away than the human being, will seek ' concealment '
in the former case, and other animals — for example horses,
and domestic animals generally — respond with 'flight' to the
latter. The writer once possessed a Labrador retriever dog,
which was very much afraid of thunder. On one occasion,
he was walking with the dog a mile or so from home, when there
came a loud peal of thunder. The dog dashed off in terror,
ignoring whistles and calls. It turned out later that he must
have made straight for home, for, a few minutes afterwards —
as was discovered by comparing times — he was found crouching
upon the doorstep, trembling in every limb. At the place
where the dog took flight there was ample opportunity for
concealment, but the instinctive response was nevertheless
flight. When the dog was at home, and a thunder-storm came
on, he usually crawled under a bed, or into some dark cupboard.

We do not think the case is essentially different with the
human being. 'Flight' and 'concealment' are alternative
responses to the same situation. If there is a place of refuge
and concealment at hand, the human being may conceal him-
self, in place of running away from a large animal ; if he is out
in the open, he may take flight from a thunderstorm.

Thorndike even goes so far as to throw doubt upon the
reality of the emotion, as an essential accompaniment of the
various fear responses. "It is probable further that an im-
partial survey of human behaviour, unprejudiced by the
superstition that a magic state of consciousness, 'fear,' is
aroused by 'danger,' and then creates flight and other symptoms
of itself, would show that pursuit and capture may produce
distinctive responses, whether or no the peculiar inner trepida-
tion, which introspection knows, is present1."

Now it is undeniable, as many writers have pointed out
that instinctive response to a situation, rousing the 'fear'
instinct, may take place without our experiencing the emotion,
1 Briefer Course, p. 22.

vn] Instinct and Emotion 165

except retrospectively. We may, that is to say, apprehend
the 'danger,' and immediately make the necessary effective
response, without feeling any emotion of fear at the time.
There are also cases — for example Livingstone's experience
when seized by a lion — where the response is not effective, and
yet no fear emotion is experienced. But we should maintain
that such cases are exceptional, and cases of the first kind, at
any rate, merely confirm our position, that the emotion is not,
as such, an essential accompaniment of any instinct.

Of course it is obvious, that we may easily, by "an impartial
survey of human behaviour" alone, reach any conclusion we
please, as to the presence or absence of an element in the accom-
panying experience, which nothing but introspection is com-
petent to study ; but such a conclusion can hardly be regarded
as anything but highly unsatisfactory by the psychologist.
When we examine our own experiences of 'danger' situations,
they tell a very different story.

It must also be granted, that it is hardly psychologically
the truth to assert that 'fear' creates 'flight.' But no psycho-
logist, least of all McDougall, would maintain that it does.
'Flight' is an instinctive response to a perceptual situation,
and the perceptual experience is normally also emotional with
the 'fear' emotion. There are other instinctive responses to
the same or similar perceptual situations, the perceptual ex-
perience in each case being coloured with the same emotion.
From the observed facts two inferences seem legitimate. In
the first place, the emotion 'fear' is integrally connected with
the instinctive responses to a ' danger ' situation. In the second
place, though originally in the history of the race these responses
may have represented specific responses to specific perceived
situations, and therefore separate instincts, in the human
being, and in the higher animals, they represent the multiple
response of a single instinct, which is quite properly called fear,
and which is normally, or usually, emotional, just because of the
multiple response.

The illusory character of the definiteness, which Thorndike's
view would impart to all instinctive behaviour of the human
being, is even better seen in the case of the ' anger ' or ' fighting '

166 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH.

instinct. While Thorndike succeeds in enumerating seven
distinct instincts, which McDougall's 'instinct of pugnacity'
would apparently cover, he is compelled, in the case of several
of the seven, to allow for a variety of instinctive response.
Thus he distinguishes the 'instinct of escape from restraint,'
the 'instinct of overcoming a moving obstacle,' the 'instinct
of counterattack/ the 'instinct of irrational response to pain,'
the 'instinct of combat in rivalry,' the instinct of attack on
other males during courtship, the instinct of attack upon any
obstacle thwarting any other instinctive response1. If we take
the first of these, we find that it is the instinct aroused by the
situation "being interfered with in any bodily movements
which the individual is impelled by its own constitution to
make, the interference consisting in holding the individual."
The responses are, in the case of a little child, "stiffening,
writhing, and throwing back the head and shoulders," these
being replaced or supplemented, in the case of an older child,
by "kicking, pushing, slapping, scratching, and biting2." We
find the same kind of thing in most of the others, and, not only
so, but the same responses. It is difficult to see where any
advantage derived from the classification comes in, if the
responses are practically as complex and varied as ever.

We are compelled, therefore, to reject Thorndike's view,
that all the instincts of Man can be reduced to, or derived from,
instinctive tendencies of the simple or 'pure' type, and to
recognize, with McDougall, that some of the most important
instincts of the human being, as well as of the higher animals,
are of the 'emotional' type, that is to say, are not merely of
the nature of specific responses to specific situations, but
specific only as to the kind of situation, the emotional accom-
paniment, and the end secured by the response, and, as regards
the first and third of these, specific in varying degrees. In any
case, alike for 'pure' and for 'emotional' instinct, Thorndike's
ignoring of the affective or interest factor cannot be defended.

We have thus two groups of instinctive tendencies in Man,
which we can distinguish from one another on a psychological
basis, the one group characterized by specific responses to
1 Briefer Course, pp. 23-26. 2 Op. cit., p. 23.

vn] Instinct and Emotion 167

specific situations, like sucking, biting an object placed in the
mouth, and the like1, which are as a rule very difficult to dis-
tinguish from reflexes, the other group consisting of tendencies
specific in varying degrees as regards situation and response,
but always quite specific as regards the accompanying emotion,
when that emotion is aroused. But we cannot stop here. We
must recognize still another group of innate tendencies, which
can hardly be said to be specific at all, as regards either situation
or response, and which have associated with them no specific
emotion, a group to which would belong such tendencies as play,
imitation, and the like. It is obvious that such tendencies can
be classified with neither sucking nor fear, and yet they are
quite as undoubtedly instinctive.

This third group of instinctive tendencies is also of great
psychological interest. Though play, imitation, and the like,
certainly represent instinctive tendencies, they are as far
removed from the 'pure' instincts as they could well be.
Biologically they may be regarded as the means of supplementing
the 'unlearned reactions' of 'pure' instinct. They do not
normally determine specific ends or interests, but attach them-
selves, as it were, to the ends and interests determined by the
specific tendencies, more especially those of the 'emotional'
group. This explains the fact that they have no accompanying
specific emotion. But although there is no specific emotion,
the usual instinct-interest may be, and perhaps generally is,
present. This is best seen in the case of play. In a hunting
game, for example, there is, in addition to the specific interest,
developing it may be into emotion, of the hunting instinct, the
play interest itself, which, while it never can itself become
emotional, yet modifies throughout both the emotion and the
behaviour of the hunting instinct.

Our psychological classification of the original tendencies
of Man is not yet complete. We may take as a further basis
of classification, the fact that some tendencies appear to be
determined by some feeling of uneasiness, which we should
describe as prior to the impulse, but for the suggestion of

1 See James, Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 404. Also Thorndike,
Notes on Child Study.

168 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [OH.

relative time order, which the word 'prior' conveys. There
is no conclusive evidence, as we have already seer, that the
feeling of uneasiness is prior in time to the impulse which it
determines. Nevertheless there appears to be in some sense
an experienced 'priority,' which quite clearly distinguishes such
original tendencies from other tendencies not chara( terized by
this priority of feeling. These two groups we may call respec-
tively the group of 'Appetite' and the group of 'Instinct'
proper. Theoretically the distinction between them seems
valid; practically it is not without its difficulties.

In the 'Appetite' group we can distinguish the specific
from the general tendencies, as in the 'Instinct proper' group.
The general 'Appetite' tendencies are two, the tendency to
avoid or get away from unpleasant experiences, and the tendency
to seek or maintain pleasant experiences. We call these
general, because the tendencies are determined by nothing
specific in any experience, except its pleasantness or its un-
pleasantness. The specific 'Appetite' tendencies, most easily
recognized and identified, are the four appetites determined
by hunger, thirst, need of sleep, and sex. We should, however,
be inclined to add to these at least one tendency of an opposite
kind — unfortunately there is no definite term to denote this,
except aversion, and that will not suit here — the tendency which
we call nausea, or primitive disgust.

Our whole classification of Man's original, innate, or instinc-
tive tendencies, with the chief individual tendencies provisionally
placed in each class, may be shown schematically as on page 169.

This classification, though it is more fully wrought out,
is on the same general lines as McDougall's, from which it
differs merely as regards details, some of these being never-
theless not unimportant. The chief differences are: — (a) the
classifying of both sex impulse and primitive disgust with the
' Appetite ' tendencies, rather than with the ' Instinct ' tendencies,
(6) the addition of experimentation to the general 'Instinct'
tendencies, which is really equivalent to the transferring of
' constructiveness ' from the specific to the general, since that
is one way in which this general tendency manifests itself,
(c) the definite adding of the gregarious instinct, the courtship

VII]

Instinct and Emotion

169

Innate Tendencies

' Appetite ' Tendencies

Instinct' Tendencies

General
(Seeking of Pleasure
Avoidance of Pain)

Specific
(Hunger
Thirst
Sleep
Sex
Nausea)

General
(Play
Experimentation
Imitation
Sympathy
Suggestibility)

Specific

' Pure '

(Probably numerous though difficult to dis-
tinguish from reflexes and may perhaps
be classified as :

Reactions of Adjustment and Attention
,, Prehension

„ Locomotion

Vocalization)

' Emotional '

(Fear

Anger

Hunting

Acquisitive

Curiosity

Gregarious

Courtship

Self-display

Self-abasement

Parental)

tendency, the hunting instinct, and the acquisitive tendency
to the specific ' Instinct ' tendencies, and therefore to the group
of tendencies, in connection with which we must expect to find
an interest, which, under certain conditions, develops into a
specific primary emotion.

The obvious advantage of such a classification is that it is
psychological, and is therefore in place in a psychological
discussion of Instinct. Except for the classifications of some
of the older psychologists, and of McDougall, most classifications
of human instinctive tendencies have been in more or less
objective terms, that is, from the point of view of the instinctive
response, or the end towards which it is directed.

Thus Thorndike1 divides the tendencies into two main
groups, individual and social. Under the former head he
classifies "original attentiveness," "gross bodily control,"
"food-getting," "protective responses," "anger," and under
the second head, that is "responses to the behaviour of other
human beings," "motherly behaviour," "responses to the

1 Briefer Course, chaps, n and in.

170 Classification of Instinctive Tendencies of Man [CH. vn

presence, approval, and scorn of men," "mastering and sub-
missive behaviour," "other social instincts," "imitation."

Rutgers Marshall classifies the tendencies, professedly from
"an objective point of view1," into "three grand divisions
determined by the laws of organic development," the divisions
being : —

(1) "Instincts which function to the preservation of the
individual organic life " ;

(2) "Instincts which function to the preservation of the
species to which the individual life belongs";

(3) "Instincts which function to the preservation of those
social groups which we discover amongst many species of animals,
and which appear most markedly in the highest animal — man2."

If this distinction between individual and social tendencies
is considered desirable or important, it can quite easily, in
our classification, be applied to the ' Instinct' tendencies, both
general and specific. That is to say, these groups are cap-
able of being further subdivided into tendencies, which we
may call individual, and tendencies, which are social, or at
least necessarily imply or involve relation or interaction
between an individual and other individuals. Thus imitation,
sympathy, suggestibility, the gregarious instinct, the acquisitive
tendency, the courtship tendency, the parental instinct, are all
social in this sense, and to a less extent perhaps, but still un-
mistakably, the two self- tendencies, while play, experimentation,
anger, fear, the hunting instinct, curiosity, do not necessarily
involve any such social reference, and may therefore be classed
as individual. The ' Appetite ' tendencies must all be regarded,
psychologically at any rate, as essentially individual.

We must now take a closer survey of the various tendencies,
and more particularly those which are important from the point
of view of education. Seeing that the 'Appetite' tendencies
present somewhat special and complex problems, their discus-
sion had better be postponed. We shall begin therefore with the
' Instinct ' tendencies, and with the specific ' emotional ' group.

1 Instinct and Reason, p. 102.

2 Instinct and Reason, p. 103. Stout's fourfold classification in the recent
edition of the Manual (1913) is on somewhat similar lines.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SPECIFIC ' INSTINCT' TENDENCIES

McDougall has pointed out with great clearness and truth,
that, while all the specific 'Instinct' tendencies are characterized
by cognition of a more or less specific kind of object, behaviour
of a more or less specific character, and an emotional experience
of a quite specific quality, it is the third factor that is character-
istic and constant. It is true that certain expressive signs of
an emotion are almost as specific as the emotion itself. But
apart from this, the behaviour, due to any of the 'emotional'
specific tendencies may show considerable variation, and is
also highly modifiable as a result of education. So is it also
with the cognitive factor. We shall see presently that it is
only in one or two of the ' emotional ' instincts that the impulse
is aroused, prior to experience, by specific objects. Gener-
ally the instinctive impulse is determined by a more or less
specific kind of situation, but in the case of curiosity or the
acquisitive tendency the situation is specific to a very slight
degree. Hence, the emotional ,factor being the unalterable
and relatively permanent element, it is very fittingly chosen,
wherever possible, as the basis of identification and naming
in each case.

These facts to some extent explain the difficulty which
psychologists experience in determining exactly the instinctive,
as distinguished from the derived, impulses and tendencies
of the human being, belonging to this category. McDougall
suggests, that, in seeking to decide whether any "human
emotion or impulse" should be considered "a primary emotion
or simple instinctive impulse," we may employ two criteria:—
(1) the display of a similar emotion and impulse in the higher

172 The Specific 'Instinct* Tendencies [CH.

animals, and (2) the appearance of the emotion and impulse
in question in an exaggerated or hyper-excitable form under
pathological conditions1.

Neither criterion can be considered as quite satisfactory
from the psychological point of view. Both are essentially
objective. As regards the first, it is not clear that there might
not be primary emotions, characteristic of human nature,
which were not to be found in the higher animals at all. But
quite apart from that consideration, the emotions and impulses
which the psychologist finds in animals are essentially of the
nature of ejects from his own experience, and it is not very easy
to see, how and why the fact that a human being can read his
own emotions into the mental life of animals should afford a
criterion for determining the primary nature of these emotions
and impulses. Romanes, for example, finds ' jealousy' as low
down the scale as fishes, 'emulation' and 'pride' in birds,
'grief,' 'hate,' 'cruelty' in carnivora, rodents, and ruminants,
* revenge' in monkeys and elephants, 'shame' and 'remorse'
in anthropoid apes2. It is equally difficult to see how and why
the second criterion affords a basis for such a decision; at all
events, it is not clear a priori why a complex and secondary
emotion may not appear in an exaggerated form under patho-
logical conditions, as, in fact, it frequently does, in the case of
both 'emotions of sentiment,' and 'emotions of desire.'

It cannot be denied that McDougall's criteria are useful
to the psychologist by way of confirmatory evidence. But
the psychologist has other, and more purely psychological,
criteria available. Shand offers us four tests, one of which
is practically identical with McDougall's first: — (1) the mani-
festation of the impulse and emotion early in child life, (2) the
wide diffusion of the impulse and emotion in the animal world,
(3) irreducibility in introspective analysis, (4) manifestation
in genuinely instinctive behaviour3. These criteria are also
open to objection, but we can at least extract from them three
tests, which with McDougall's two will yield us altogether five.

1 Social Psychology, p. 48,

2 Mental Evolution in Animals, chap, xx, and Plate.

3 Foundations of Character, p. 219.

vm] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 173

These five tests, in what seems to be their order of psycho-
logical importance, are: —

(1) Irreducibility by introspective analysis to simpler com-
ponents.

(2) Arousal of impulse and emotion, with its specific and
unmistakable expressive signs, by specific objects or specific
kinds of objects, prior to individual experience of these objects.

(3) Manifestation in the early months of child life.

(4) Wide diffusion in the animal world.

(5) Occurrence in exaggerated form under pathological
conditions.

Six of the ten tendencies we have named satisfy all these
tests — anger, fear, the two self -tendencies, the gregarious
instinct, and the acquisitive tendency. It is not quite certain
whether curiosity and the hunting instinct satisfy the fifth,
and the parental instinct, and the courtship tendency, for an
obvious reason, do not satisfy the third.

Surprise appears to be the only other 'emotional' tendency
of the human being, on behalf of which a serious claim to be
included in this group can be advanced. The reason for exclud-
ing surprise is the doubt whether there is any corresponding
instinctive impulse. Both McDougall and Shand accept Adam
Smith's account of the nature of surprise1. According to
Adam Smith's account, "surprise is not to be regarded as an
original emotion of a species distinct from all others. The
violent and sudden change produced upon the mind, when an
emotion of any kind is brought suddenly upon it, constitutes
the whole nature of surprise." McDougall' s account is in
slightly different terms. Surprise, he says, "is produced by an
impression, which is contrary to anticipation, and to which,
therefore, we cannot immediately adjust ourselves, which does
not evoke at once an appropriate emotional and conative
response." There does not seem any sufficient ground for
denying the emotional nature of surprise. It is the emotional
response to unexpectedness, and it is unique only in that the
emotional response to the quale of the impression supervenes,

1 Adam Smith, The Principles which lead and direct Philosophical Enquiries,
as illustrated by the History of Astronomy, sect. I. McDougall, Social Psycho-
logy, p. 157. Shand, Foundations of Character, p. 421.

174 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

so that surprise is always merely a momentary emotion. Its
impulse and expression, simply as surprise, do not appear to
be very significant, but we should be quite prepared to admit
it as another 'emotional' tendency belonging to this group.

Educationally the most important fact to keep in mind with
regard to these specific 'emotional' tendencies is, that in them
we have — apart from the 'Appetite' tendencies, to which we
shall advert later — the original, and ultimately the sole import-
ant, motive forces determining an individual's behaviour, the
sole original determinants of the ends he will seek to attain, as
of the interests which crave satisfaction1. To escape from
'danger/ to meet hindrances, obstacles, and hostility with
active aggression, to acquire 'property,' to secure the favour-
able notice of the chosen one of the opposite sex, to protect
offspring, to obtain the praise and avoid the blame of superiors
or equals, to escape the loneliness of isolation from one's fellows,
these, however disguised, developed, or complicated, they may
be, apart, as we have said, from the 'Appetite' tendencies, are
instances of the chief ultimate forces which control the actions
of humanity.

We must now consider briefly some of the more interesting
and significant features of the various tendencies individually,
and more especially the nature of the situations which determine
them, the kind of behaviour in which they issue, the modifica-
tions produced by and in experience, and their general operation
and function in education and social development.

Fear. McDougall, Ribot, James, and others have already dis-
cussed fear so fully from the psychological, and Darwin and others
from the expression, behaviour, and biological points of view,
that there is little left for us to do in this case, except to supple-
ment the parts of their descriptions which are germane to
our present purpose, so far as we can, and to draw such con-
clusions as seem to us deserving of particular note.

In the human being the fear instinct is specialized, at the
outset, for comparatively few, if for any, particular objects.
Evidence with regard to the instinctive fears of childhood is,

1 This may possibly need qualification, but we shall consider this point in
connection with the general tendencies.

vin] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 175

as a rule, not too reliable, the source of the unreliability being
more or less general, as far as the primary emotions are con-
cerned. The general tendency we call * sympathy ' — McDougall's
' primitive passive sympathy' — operates, as we shall see, in
such a way as to cause an individual to experience an emotion,
when he perceives the signs expressive of that emotion in
another individual, or other individuals, towards whom his
attention is directed. Now this tendency undoubtedly operates
in a child from a very early age. Hence many apparently
instinctive fears may be derived through sympathy, and not
really 'instinctive.' That is to say, a child may derive fear for
a specific object through sympathy, from another person, who
is really afraid, or who successfully pretends fear, and the result
is a fear, which, without knowledge of the circumstances — and
such knowledge is apt to be very elusive — we tend to classify as
'instinctive.'

For example, it is said that children have an instinctive
fear of dead things. Not one of the writer's children has shown
the slightest sign of such. Yet one of them, when aged about
five, showed an intense fear of death — he said he could not ' get
it out of his head ' — when his mother, on one occasion, told him
' he would get his death of cold ' by going about with his shoes off,
as he had been doing against orders. This was the first occasion
on which we had known him to exhibit fear of death. We
cannot trace its origin, but we are quite satisfied that its origin
was either sympathetic, or that he had been told something
from which the fear had developed.

We have had an analogous experience with fear of the dark.
Of three children, aged from two to five, not one showed the
least fear of the dark, until suddenly one evening fear of going
out into a dark lobby was manifested, and by all three. Of the
origin of the fear, we are quite ignorant, but it was certainly
not instinctive in all three cases, and probably not in any.

If there is doubt about fear being aroused by specific objects
or situations, there is no doubt about its being aroused by specific
kinds of objects or situations, prior to individual experience
of such. Loud noises, but not all loud noises, strange faces,
but not all strange faces, a threatening aspect in human beings

176 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

or animals — and this seems to be instinctively apprehended,
probably through the operation of something akin to sympathy
— high places, and any risk of falling, anything "violently
opposed to the accustomed and familiar1," but only in a certain
way, these are the kinds of situations which arouse instinctive
fear. The general formula would appear to be "anything that
threatens ' danger ' . " And this formula applies, not merely at the
perceptual level, but at all levels. It is usually the threatened
'danger' in loud noises, like the roar of a lion, the loud bark
of a dog, that stimulates fear. A loud noise like thunder may
apparently, in the majority of children, produce a similar
effect at the first experience, but it must be remembered that
such an experience is or may be intensely disagreeable, merely
as loud noise ; the same kind of effect is produced by the horn
of a steamer close at hand, but in our own case the sensation is,
not only highly disagreeable, but positively painful, and fear
produced in such circumstances may be produced by the
experienced pain, and is therefore not prior to experience.

The notion of 'danger,' as the only way in which we can
express the origin of fear, as well as explain its characteristics
in all cases, has hitherto very strangely failed to attract the
careful notice and investigation of the psychologist. Shand
comes upon it in his search for a general law, which will express
and include all forms of the fear behaviour, but, though it is
the only notion that could have guided him aright, he has passed
it over, to formulate a law which is manifestly false, or at least
partial and one-sided2.

'Danger' may be generally interpreted as the 'promise of
pain, injury, or loss to the Self.' The general law of the be-
haviour of fear, which Shand sought, may be expressed in the
form: 'Fear in all its varieties strives to escape danger.' At
the purely instinctive level, and at the perceptual level generally,
the danger is, in the main, physical danger to the individual or
his offspring. At the higher levels, it may be as frequently
danger that threatens any part of the 'Self,' and it must be

1 McDougall, Social Psychology, p. 54.

2 Foundations of Character, p. 217. His 'law' is: "Fear throughout its
varieties strives to avoid aggressive behaviour."

vin] The Specific 'Instinct' tendencies 177

remembered that an individual's sentiments, ends, ideals,
purposes, are at these levels parts of the Self.

This notion of ' danger ' also enables us to give a satisfactory
account of the modifications of which this instinct is capable,
as a result of experience, and with the higher degrees of ' psychi-
cal integration.' The evolution of the race has secured that
certain 'dangers' should be apprehended prior to individual
experience. After our discussion of the cognitive element in
instinct-experience in Chapter IV, the sense in which we
use 'apprehend' will not be misunderstood. Learning at the
perceptual level will take place, when pain, injury, or loss is
experienced in association with any perceptual situation, and
the result may be fear at the moment — or anger, as we shall see — •
and fear of such a situation for the future. Similarly at the
ideational and rational levels. The experienced results of
situations, experienced, that is to say, by ourselves or by others
within our knowledge, will lead to such situations being labelled
as 'dangerous.' Whether the crude instinctive behaviour of
fear will manifest itself or not, will depend on a variety of
circumstances, but, in any case, fear as a motive will always
play its part in determining the behaviour.

McDougall has emphasized, and rightly emphasized, the
fact that fear is the great ' inhibitor of all action,' and, as such,
is in primitive societies the "great agent of social discipline1."
But, as McDougall has also more than once pointed out, inhibi-
tion is but one aspect of a process, of which reinforcement is the
other aspect, and it is sometimes well to look at this other aspect.
So long as the fear is not of a paralyzing degree, it directs all
our energies towards escape from 'danger.' At the higher
levels, when it is one element in a complex emotional state,
it is generally most significant when regarded as a reinforcing,
rather than as an inhibiting, agent. The individual, who is
striving to gain a prize, redoubles his efforts, when he sees the
danger of losing it to another. And so is it always, when fear
is associated with almost any motive that animates the human
being, at least if it is essentially selfish in its tendency, provided,
as we have said, the fear does not reach the paralyzing degree.
1 Social Psychology, p. 55.

D. 12

178 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH

In connection with the effect of fear in experience, there is
one other point deserving of some notice. That is its ' haunting '
character. Of all the emotions, fear probably makes the deepest
and most permanent impression upon the mind. McDougall has
related this fact to the inhibitory effect of fear by pointing out,
that, along with the inhibition of other mental activity, there
is a 'riveting' of the attention on the object feared "to the
exclusion of all others1." We cannot 'get it out of our minds.'
In other words, the 'haunting' is the result of the inhibiting
and reinforcing influence of fear, which, especially when it is
experienced in a high degree, not only keeps the attention fixed
upon the object or event feared, but persists in memory, to an
extent that very frequently becomes morbid.

Even fear experienced in dreams has this effect. We have
known individuals, who for years avoided certain streets and
street-crossings, because these were associated in a dream with
a terrifying experience. They confessed that their action was
irrational, and could by a strong effort of will pass through the
dreaded zone, but the fear remained. The same kind of thing
is notably a phenomenon of children's fears. Fortunately
most of these fears are outgrown, but in some cases they are
not. How many of the neuroses, the origin of which the
Freudians ascribe to instincts of sex, are not due rather to
the equally powerful, and at an early age far more manifest,
instinct of fear? There seems good reason to believe that
many of them are2.

Anger and the Hunting Instinct. We shall discuss these two
instincts, the fighting instinct and the hunting instinct, together,
because in many cases they are not easily separable in their
effects, as far as human behaviour is concerned. The hunting
instinct has been rather strangely ignored by McDougall. It
would deserve notice, if only for the part it plays in determining
some of the favourite amusements of both young and adult
human beings. In this respect at least, the two tendencies
are very fittingly bracketed together. But they are not less

1 Social Psychology, P- 55.

8 See Morton Prince, The Unconscious, Lect. xin.

vin] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 179

closely associated as regards nearly all the kinds of behaviour
they determine.

With respect to the perceptual situation, towards which it
is the instinctive response, anger is more closely associated
with fear. McDougall thinks that anger "occupies a peculiar
position in relation to the other instincts," because "it has no
specific object or objects, the perception of which constitutes
the initial stage of the instinctive process1." But in this
respect it does not seem to differ from curiosity, from the
acquisitive instinct, or, in our opinion, from fear. For, whether
the exceedingly doubtful cases of the determination of fear by
specific objects be accepted or not, it remains true that the
great majority of instinctive fears, and by far the most im-
portant, are determined by specific kinds of situations, rather
than by specific objects. Moreover James has pointed out2 that
the situations which produce fear produce also anger. After all
it does not seem to be of much consequence whether an instinct
is determined by a specific quak of situations, or by a specific
object.

In the cases where, according to James, fear and anger are
both produced by the same situation, though the two impulses
are antagonistic, one does not destroy the other, but merely
suspends it, and the two emotions may coexist. There is
therefore no need to assume a special differentiation of fear, as
Shand, for example, does3, to account for the fighting of the
animal which turns at bay. This phenomenon can be much
more simply accounted for. On the one hand, there is anger
present all along, its impulse being merely suspended. On
the other hand, one of the most characteristic forms of anger
is that aroused against any hindrance to, or interference with,
the impulse of another instinctive tendency. This will be a
reinforcement to the anger already involved, and hence, with
the baulking of the impulse to escape, the animal or human
being will turn in desperation, and with the most furious rage,
upon the pursuer.

The situation of the animal at bay presents several very
interesting psychological phenomena. In the first place, it

1 Social Psychology, p. 59. 2 Principle.? of Psychology, vol. u, p. 415.

3 Foundations of Character, pp. 202-3

12—2

180 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

illustrates the fact, that the stronger the impulse which meets
a check, the fiercer as a rule is the anger aroused. This is also
instanced in the anger aroused by sexual rivalry. In the
second place, and in explanation of this fact, it must be noted,
that it is almost quite generally characteristic of our emotional
life, that the motive which finally determines action may draw
a large part of its driving force from emotions experienced
simultaneously, or so short a time previously, that the emotional
disturbance has not had time to subside — emotions, which do
not themselves issue in action at all, but which thus lend their
force to an impulse, sometimes of a totally different kind. Some
instances of the ' sublimation1 ' of the Freudians may be regarded
as additional examples of this, but the sexual instincts are not
by any means unique in producing such a result.

To return to the situations which arouse anger and the
fighting impulse. In the case of the human being, any agent
threatening 'danger,' and therefore evoking fear, may also
evoke instinctive anger, any agent causing pain, injury, or loss
to the 'self,' in its narrow as in its widest sense, any agent
obstructing an impulse, or hindering the realization of an end.
The instinct may therefore be said to have two main functions.
Like fear, but not to the same extent, it is protective ; like fear,
but to a much greater extent, it is reinforcing. 'Anything
that threatens or obstructs ' would thus appear to be the general
formula for the situations producing anger and its impulse.

What of the situations determining the hunting instinct?
This question is a good deal more difficult to answer. Generally
it seems that all objects which show the fear or flight impulse
tend to arouse the hunting instinct. Hence it is evoked, not
only by the fleeing enemy, but also by anything small, timid,
or weak. At the same time it must be recognized that there
are notable exceptions, due to the operation of other powerful
impulses, and chiefly the parental instinct and sympathy.
Most frequently, perhaps, the hunting instinct is enlisted in
the service of some other instinct or appetite, more especially
anger or hunger.

^

1 See Jones, "Psycho-analysis and Education," Journal of Educational
Psychology, pp. 241-256. 1912. Also references.

vni] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 181

The cooperation of anger and the hunting instinct has been
admirably described by James1, but before going on to emphasize
the psychologically important phenomena of this cooperation,
there is one noteworthy fact in connection with anger, which
is worth indicating. The expressive signs of anger, when it is
acting in cooperation with the hunting instinct, are usually very
different from its expressive signs, as described by Darwin and
others2. Or rather, some of the expressive signs of anger, which
we generally regard as most typical, and which are so regarded
by Darwin, and also by McDougall3, would appear to be the
signs, not of anger, as such, but rather of anger associated with
a little fear, at all events of anger in its protective function.
One anger is noisy, ferocious in aspect, as if to strike terror to
the heart of the enemy, and so remove some part of the fear
from its own ; the other anger is stern, silent, and remorseless,
pursuing its enemy, not frightening him away. If the expressive
signs of an emotion are constant in anything like the degree in
which the quality of the emotion itself is constant, and there
is^good reason to believe that they are, then we can only count
as expressive signs of anger those signs which are common in
the two phases. An anger that is complicated by fear, or by
the hunting instinct, or an anger that has been baulked, and,
because it has been baulked, has become a mad rage, cannot be
taken as typical.

James, in our opinion rightly, explains many of the less
amiable characteristics of the human being under certain
circumstances, as due to the cooperation of the fighting and
hunting instincts. Of the ferocity and lust of blood, which
may occasionally animate men, who normally are ordinary, law-
abiding citizens, we find illustrations throughout history, and
none more striking than in our own times, and among our
own highly civilized peoples. Such phenomena are most easily
explicable, when we consider them as due, in the main, to this
cooperation, especially when contagion has roused to a high
pitch the emotional accompaniments of the two tendencies.

1 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, pp. 411-415.

2 See Darwin, Expression of the Emotions, pp. 240-253. 1872.

3 Social Psychology, p. 61.

182 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

A great part of the disinterested ' cruelty ' of children James
would apparently explain in a similar way1. But 'cruelty'
presents a rather complex problem. Some of the disinterested
'cruelty' of children, as, for example, the pulling off the wings
and legs of insects, may have its source merely in curiosity,
or the tendency to experiment, though the catching of the
insect is undoubtedly due to the hunting instinct. The dis-
interested 'cruelty,' which kills all helpless creatures, is prob-
ably, in most cases, due to the hunting instinct pure and
simple. But disinterested 'cruelty,' strictly so called, is quite
cold-blooded. On the other hand, real cruelty is generally
accompanied by a spasm of quite irrational and instinctive
anger, and therefore passes easily over into the ferocity based
upon the cooperation of anger and the hunting instinct.

It is thus necessary to discriminate. James quotes with
approval in a footnote2 a passage from Schneider. In
Schneider's opinion, the curiosity itself is merely a manifesta-
tion of the hunting instinct, or of its impulse, after the prey is
captured, and represents the tearing to pieces in order to devour,
which naturally follows the chase with those animals which
hunt their prey in order to satisfy their hunger3. We do not
know that this will account for the phenomena in every case.
There is good reason to think that a real and not apparent
curiosity, and a real tendency to experiment, are involved in
many cases.

1 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 412.

2 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 411.

3 Schneider, Der menschliche Wille, pp. 224-7. The chief points of the
argument are: "Es ist Jedermami bekannt, welches Gefallen ein Knabe bei
dem Anblick eines Schmetterlinges, Fisches, Krebses, oder eines anderen
Thieres, und eines Vogelnestes empfindet, und welch starken Trieb er zum
Zerzupfen, Erbrechen, Auseinanderlegen und Zerstoren aller zusammengesetzten
Gegenstande hat, welches Vergniigen er daran findet, einer FKege Beine und
Fltigel auszurupfen oder irgend welche Thiere in anderer Weise zu qualen....
In vielen Fallen wird man sagen, dass der Knabe die Binge aus Neugierde
zerlege. Das ist richtig ; aber woher kommt diese Neugierde ?... Hier handelt
es sich um vererbte Triebe, die selbst so stark sind, dass alle Ermahnungen
und Strafen dagegen wenig ausrichten....Der blosse Jagdtrieb uriterdriickt
jede ihm entgegenstehende Regung, der Wahrnehmungstrieb, der ja immer
starker ist als der Vorstellungstrieb, siegt iiber letzteren, und die Jagd beginnt. . . .
Unsere Vorfahren...haben an dem Verzehren der Beutethiere im rohen Zustande
einen thatsachlichen Essgenuss gehabt....Jetzt hat der junge Mensch nichl mehr
den Essgenuss... aber die causale Beziehung zwischen der Wahrnehmung dieser
Dinge...und dem Jagdtrieb ist geblieben," etc.

vin] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 183

The 'cruelty,' which arises from the hunting instinct alone,
or from the hunting instinct supplemented by curiosity or
experimentation, would seem to be comparatively harmless,
and in normal children yields easily to the proper treatment.
The ' cruelty ' arising from the cooperation of the hunting
instinct and an irrational, instinctive anger, is apparently in
a different category, and a more serious matter. In extreme
cases this may be a premonitory symptom of the maniacal
thirst for blood, which has not infrequently shown itself in
our midst, and which finds a ghoulish delight in murders of the
most fiendish description. In all cases it presents a most
difficult problem to the educator.

The emotional accompaniment of the hunting instinct hasJ
received no specific name. The probable explanation of this
fact is, that the emotional accompaniment of the hunting
instinct is so frequently associated with anger, and passes
so easily into anger owing to the baulking of the impulse,
which, from the nature of the case, must be the normal course
of events, that it has never been popularly distinguished as a
separate emotion. Nevertheless there can be no doubt what-
soever that there is such an emotion. It can be introspectively
recognized, and it finds its purest expression in the realm of
sport.

Both the fighting and the hunting instinct afford some
confirmation to the view that at least one of the biological
functions of play is its cathartic function. This is a modifica-
tion of Stanley Hall's well-known recapitulation theory of play,
due to Carr1. It seems as if the hunting instinct at *east finds
its necessary outlet in games and sport, is, as it were, canalized
in such manner as to attain the satisfaction of its impulse
under the conditions of modern civilized life, and consistently
with these conditions, in the activities of the playground,
the moor, and the hunting-field. It also illustrates very well
James's principle of the ' transitoriness of instincts2,' though
it is very questionable if the result of non -satisfaction of an
instinct at the proper time is ever mere atrophy of that instinct.

1 Carr, The Survival Values of Play. University of Colorado Psychological
Investigations. 1902.

2 See Claparede, Psychologic de V Enfant, p. 90, 3rd ed. 1909.

184 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

As for the fighting instinct, that finds numerous outlets
in civilized life, far removed from the crude instinctive be-
haviour in which it originally issues. As a reinforcing agent,
when difficulties have to be faced and overcome, its value, both
to the individual and to society, is incalculable. Weaklings
are what they are, as often through lack of anger in their con-
stitution, or of its developed forms as organized forces in their
character, as through excess of fear. By lack of anger we
mean, not so much lack of the emotion, which is rather rare,
as weakness in the instinctive driving force, the fighting instinct
itself, of which anger is merely the emotional manifestation. To
some extent the hunting instinct functions in a way similar to
the fighting instinct in this respect. Under certain conditions,
though not so frequently occurring conditions, it is also capable
of acting as a reinforcing agent. In both cases we can get,
in the life of the civilized and educated adult of the twentieth
century, admirable instances -of Freudian 'sublimation.'

The Gregarious Instinct. As we have seen, gregariousness
has long been recognized as instinctive in Man. The classic
description of the instinct, in the opinion of McDougall at
least, is that given by Galton. Speaking of the wild ox of
Damara-land, he says: — "Yet although the ox has so little
affection for, or individual interest in, his fellows, he cannot
endure even a momentary severance from his herd. If he be
separated from it by stratagem or force, he exhibits every sign
of mental agony; he strives with all his might to get back
again, and when he succeeds, he plunges into its middle to
bathe his whole body with the comfort of closest companion-
ship1."

The perceptual situation, which determines this instinct,
appears to be simply separation from 'kind,' and its interest
is satisfied in being with the others. That it has operated on
a very large scale, and in a very important way, in the evolution
of societies, is indubitable. McDougall seems right in assigning
to it also a large share in the sum total of influences, which
have led to the rise and development of modern cities,. and the

1 Galton, Enquiries into Human Faculty, p. 49 (Everyman Edition).

vm] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 185

depopulation of rural districts1. No doubt too, as he shows,
it operates widely in bringing crowds together in the lecture-
hall, theatre, or picture-house, to watch a procession, a race,
or a football match.

To describe the instinctive impulse, as McDougall does,
as arising out of the uneasiness felt at isolation from our
fellows2, is rather misleading. The instinct-impulse is the
cause, not the effect, of the uneasiness. In fact the peculiar
'uneasiness' may be regarded as the emotional manifestation
of this instinct. As an emotion it is not usually of sufficiently
high intensity to have secured it a definite name, but it cannot
be doubted that the more or less vague 'restlessness' is
emotional.

It is perhaps a little unjust to McDougall to attribute
to him the view that the gregarious impulse is determined
by a prior 'uneasiness'; for his whole teaching is contrary
to this view, and the only passage where it seems to occur is
in the single sentence referred to. Nevertheless there is in
the instinct itself something which suggests such a view,
something which might even lead the psychologist to maintain
that it belongs rather to the 'Appetite' grouj^ in our system
of classification, an opinion to which Galton's description
would lend some support. There is indeed something pri-
mordial about the whole experience involved in the operation
of the gregarious instinct. Marshall holds that the 'social'
instincts represent the latest stratum of instinctive develop-
ment3. This, the 'mother tendency' of the 'social' instincts,
as such, the 'social,' that is, as distinct from the 'family'
instincts, bears all the psychological marks of a very ancient
tendency. It is perhaps a matter for the biologist, rather
than the psychologist, to decide, but, if the biologist should
come to the conclusion that the gregarious instinct is indeed
very ancient, the psychologist could not refuse him full support.

Gregariousness is as variable in different individuals as any
instinctive tendency, but it is probably less modifiable than
any, in this respect also resembling the 'Appetites.' But it

1 Social Psychology, chap. xn. 2 Op. cit., p. 84.

3 Instinct and Reason, p. 173 ff.

186 The Specific l Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

would be a mistake to consider it entirely unmodifiable, for
in the highly intellectualized human being its impulse seems
to be directed to means of satisfaction quite different from
those of the crude instinct, though, even in this case, the original
impulse now and again may reassert itself.

The chief educational interest of the gregarious instinct
arises from the fact, that, at the human level of development,
its impulse takes the form which McDougall has called 'active
sympathy1.' The name is not without its disadvantages. It
suggests a close relation to, and indeed dependence on, 'primi-
tive passive sympathy,' to which suggestion McDougall himself
appears to have yielded. There is really no reason to suppose
that the relation to 'primitive passive sympathy' is anything
more than incidental to the conditions under which, in this
case, the gregarious impulse manifests itself. By saying that
'primitive passive sympathy' is incidental we mean that the
sense of isolation is, in this case, produced by refusing or repress-
ing any signs of sharing the individual's feelings. Nevertheless
' active sympathy ' is itself the impulse of the gregarious instinct,
and, in its pure state, of that alone.

The instinct is also educationally important, as the primary
basis of the natural groupings of children in and out of school,
and as furnishing, therefore, the original opportunity, outside
the family, for the operation of the general social tendencies,
imitation, sympathy, and suggestibility, determining that
development of the individual as a social individual so care-
fully described by Koyce, Baldwin, and others. Of course it
is only the primary basis. It determines the formation of the
group, but the organization of the group, without which even the
gregarious instinct could not hold it together for long, depends
on quite other conditions, for the operation of some of which
the mere grouping affords, as we have said, the necessary
opportunity.

We must not, therefore, attach too much importance to the

gregarious instinct. It may lead to the formation of a group,

and attract individuals to a group which has been formed, but,

in maintaining the group, other factors are even more important.

1 Social Psychology, p. 168.

vni] The Specific 'Instinct3 Tendencies 187

These factors will depend on the nature of the group. On the
lowest plane we have the crowd swayed by the same emotions,
and while so swayed, having the same interests and aims. The
larger the crowd, the more it attracts the individual, and the
more completely it dominates the individual personality. The
attraction and the dominancy are, however, not due to the
gregarious instinct alone, but to the emotional satisfaction as
a whole which the situation affords. There is a kind of in-
toxication by emotions. But strong emotions, by their urgency,
attain their ends forthwith, or exhaust themselves by their own
violence, and then the crowd, in spite of the operation of the
gregarious impulse, gradually falls apart into the individuals
composing it. On the highest plane we have the organized
'community,' with common interests and ends, not welded
together by emotion, but held together by these common
interests and ends, and therefore depending little upon the
operation of the gregarious instinct.

In refusing to recognize the 'consciousness of kind/ alleged
as the basis of the gregarious instinct and allied phenomena
by Giddings, we are also inclined to agree with McDougall1.
If by ' consciousness of kind ' is meant some kind of instinctive
or innate knowledge, then, as we have already seen, there is
nothing in instinctive activity which requires us to postu-
late such. a knowledge, and it creates more difficulties than
it solves.

The Acquisitive Tendency. In spite of the numerous studies
of the 'collecting' instinct, or habit, in children, there is, so
far as we know, no good systematic psychological discussion
of the instinct itself. McDougall has treated it very summarily.
James has devoted to it a little more attention, but has given
it by no means adequate treatment. Other psychologists have
either ignored it altogether, or avoided the real psychological
problems which it presents.

This is rather strange in view of the fact that no instinct,
with perhaps one solitary exception, presents more and greater
difficulties in its psychology, few present difficulties of which

1 Social Psychology, p. 298.

188 The Specific ' Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

the psychological solution is more interesting, and few play so
prominent a part in the ordinary, everyday life of Man. There
is no strong or exalted emotion, it is true, but the impulse to
appropriate and possess is powerful in the adult, as in the child,
in the civilized man, as in the savage.

The greatest psychological difficulty, which the instinct
presents for our solution, is probably as regards the kind of
perceptual situation which evokes it. It is almost impossible
to make any statement, that it is evoked by this or that situa-
tion, without coming upon some manifestations of the instinct,
which cannot be reconciled with the statement. If we say
the instinct is determined by the perception of objects which
give pleasure to the eye, the ear, or to any of the senses, we are
faced with the numerous instances where worthless odds and
ends, from which no sense-pleasure whatsoever can be derived,
are appropriated and hoarded. If we suggest that rare objects
evoke it, we are met with the cases of the misers who have
hoarded old newspapers1. The miscellaneous collection in a
schoolboy's pocket seems to defy any general formula, and,
were a general formula found to cover all these objects, would
it explain the case of the man who stole his own silver spoons
from his own dining-room, to hoard them in his barn2?

A great part of this difficulty seems to arise from the fact that
the tendency, if it is ever specific as regards its object, can easily
attach itself to practically any object, and thus becomes almost
'general,' on what McDougall has called the l afferent' side.
This fact might even lead us to classify it among the general
tendencies, were it not that the behaviour is always more or
less specific, and generally highly specific. The emotional
accompaniment too, though it has no definite name in popular
speech, unless we take the word 'greed' to signify it, is un-
mistakably specific in quality.

If we attempt careful analysis, we shall probably come to
the conclusion, that primarily any small object, which attracts
the attention and pleases, evokes the acquisitive tendency;
but, as we find it in Man, it is in the main determined by objects

1 James, Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 425.

2 James, op. cit., vol. n, p. 426.

vm] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 189

apprehended as 'valuable,' and the attaching of 'value' to the
object is largely, though not entirely, a social process. For
that reason we classified the tendency as 'social.' We want
to possess what others possess and prize, or what others would
prize, if they possessed it. The objects sought will thus fall
into two categories, and both categories, but especially the
second, afford scope for almost infinite variety.

This relation to others seems to indicate that the self-
tendencies are cooperating factors. The satisfaction in posses-
sion is not in the mere possessing, as it would be if the acquisitive
tendency alone were operative, but in the effect of this posses-
sion on our relations with our fellows, an effect which may
be either real or merely imagined. But, though this would
possibly account for most of the phenomena, there are other
phenomena which indicate that other tendencies may also co-
operate— and almost any other tendency — in giving the ' value. '

Educationally the acquisitive tendency is significant in
several ways, but there are two main points which deserve
notice. The first is that it may be used as a source of interest
both direct and indirect. What is a prized possession has
already an interest, which may be utilized in the development
of further interest; what would be prized as a possession has
an interest, which will be transferred to the means which secure
its possession.

The second is in connection with the development of the
distinction between meum and tuum., not merely in theory but
in practice. Though social in its origin, the desire to possess is,
in the first instance, anti-social in its tendency. It is thus the
cause of childish misdemeanours and crimes, which often give
the parent and teacher much concern. In dealing with this
problem, the principle to be kept in view is, that the recognition
in act of the distinction between meum and tuum must be
developed without the unnecessary weakening of a natural
impulse, which, normally developed, contributes not a little
to strength of purpose, will, and character in adult life.

Two courses may be followed, both of which are incon-
sistent with this principle, and both of which are unwise.
On the one hand, we may attempt direct repression of the

190 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

acquisitive tendency, and especially of illegitimate manifesta-
tions. This will rarely give more than apparent success, and
is very likely to cause more evils than it cures. On the other
hand we may attempt to weaken the impulse indirectly by
developing 'giving' as a habit. To call this the development
of generosity, is, in our opinion, to take an entirely wrong
view of what is happening. *" Generosity is of course a valuable
quality, but let us not be slaves to words. If the habit of
giving away toys, for example, is developed in such a manner
as to make the feeling of possession, and the pleasure in posses-
sion, practically non-existent, such generosity as results can be
of very little moral value, and it has been obtained at a very
heavy price1.

Courtship and the Self -Tendencies. One reason for recogniz-
ing the courtship tendency as an original tendency, which may
be distinguished from the sex 'appetite,' is that we do not think
the latter alone can ever account for the facts of love between
the sexes in developed human life ; our reason for associating
it with the self-tendencies is that, in the behaviour which it
determines, it is almost inseparable from these. That we
must recognize the impulse of sex on the two levels, the level
of 'appetite,' and the level of 'instinct,' seems indubitable.
Mating, even as low down as the birds, is not a matter of the
sex 'appetite' alone. Some of the phenomena might be ex-
plained by James's principle of the 'inhibition of instincts by
habits2,' if we accept that principle, but there are phenomena
which such a principle cannot explain. We do not, however,
intend to discuss the courtship tendency at present, and have
merely mentioned it for the sake of completeness, and because
of its relation, as regards behaviour, to the self-tendencies, with
which we are mainly concerned.

The self -tendencies, Ribot's 'positive' and 'negative self-
feeling3,' McDougall's 'self-display' and 'self-abasement,' or,
as emotions, 'elation' and 'subjection4', have only recently

1 Of. Franco aal Kline, The Psychology of Ownership, Pedagogical Seminary,
vol. vi, 1893, p. 455. Also Thorndik^, Educational Psychology, Briefer Course,
chap. ix. 2 Principle^ of Psychology, vol. n, p. 394.

3 Psychology of the Emotion*, p. 240. * Social Psychology, p. 62.

Tin ] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 191

been adequately recognized in the psychology of motives. One
or two of the earlier psychologists, as we have seen, recognized
some of their manifestations, but even James has missed them,
and, more strangely still, Shand, writing with the work of Ribot
and McDougall before him, has apparently chosen to ignore this
part of their work altogether, harking back to an older and
imperfect classification of the primary emotions1. On the
biological side, Darwin has given a very full treatment of
'self -display,' regarding it as a manifestation of the courtship
tendency2, so that the psychologist must, in this case, grant to
,the biologist the credit for calling attention to these tendencies,
before psychological analysis was able to discover them in their
purity.

The perceptual situation, which originally determines the
instinct of self-display, is the presence of another, and in some
way inferior, individual of the same 'kind,' that is, apart from
its manifestation under the influence of the courtship tendency,
while the perceptual situation, which determines the instinct
of self-abasement, is the presence of another, and in some way
superior, individual of the same 'kind.' In the one case there
is perceptual consciousness of superiority, in the other of
inferiority, and probably in the most primitive manifestations
of the two tendencies the superiority or inferiority is nearly
always in size or strength.

The characteristic behaviour of the two instincts has been
admirably described by McDougall in the two words, 'strutting'
and 'slinking3.' The accompanying consciousness, manifesting
itself in this behaviour, may be described as the 'am I not a
wonder?' consciousness, and the 'please don't notice me' con-
sciousness. The impulse attains its satisfaction, in each case,
when the other shows the opposite impulse and behaviour.

There are some difficulties with regard to the corresponding
emotions, which are not nearly so well defined as McDougall
would have us believe. The tendencies are partly satisfied in
their own feelings, but the real satisfaction is nevertheless in
the signs in others of the opposite feelings, 'negative' with

1 The Foundations of Character, book n.

2 The Descent of Man, 2nd ed. pp. 394 fif. 3 Social Psychology, p. 64.

192 The Specific 'Instinct* Tendencies [CH.

'positive,' and 'positive' with 'negative/ If these signs fail
to be forthcoming, the impulse fails to find its satisfaction,
and this is the point at which we should, on analogy, expect
the emotional excitement to show itself, which, if the tendency
continued to be baulked, should ultimately give way to anger.
But — confining ourselves to the instinct of self-display, where
the emotional phenomena are more definite — we find that, in
this case of the checking of the impulse through failure to
elicit the appropriate signs from others, if there is any emotion
at all aroused, prior to anger, it is not ' elation ' but the opposite
emotion. 'Elation,' and the corresponding triumphant air,
are really produced when the impulse has attained its end.

These phenomena — and the parental instinct exhibits
apparently phenomena of a similar or analogous nature —
appear to be fatal to McDougall's theory of the instinct-
emotions, but they seem to be equally fatal to our view. Is
it possible to retain our view of the nature of emotion, and
its relation to instinct-interest, at the same time explaining
these emotional phenomena? The solution we would offer is
this: In what we should call the 'joy' emotions, the emotional
'tension' may arise under conditions exactly the reverse of
those under which emotional 'tension' ordinarily arises. In
the ordinary case there is 'tension' because the satisfaction
of the interest lags behind the impulse. In the case of the
'joy' emotions, there may also be 'tension,' because the satis-
faction of the interest outstrips action, because action cannot
follow with sufficient rapidity an impulse stimulated by the
satisfaction already attained, which, from the nature of the
case, is always of the stimulating order. When an attempt
is made to interpret either 'elation,' or some of the emotional
accompaniments of parental affection, anger, and several other
instinct-emotions, in a way consistent with McDougall's position,
the denial of the emotional character of 'joy1' seems to make
the attempt quite hopeless.

The difficulties are by no means surmounted by considering
'elation' in connection with the self -tendencies alone. Con-
sider the fighting instinct. There is sometimes in the operation
1 Social Psychology, p. 149 ff.

vin] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 193

of this instinct a 'joy' or 'elation,' which is quite independent
of the satisfaction of the impulse, so far as that consists in the
destruction of an enemy, and which cannot be considered to
arise from anger at all. For some natures merely to fight is
"to drink delight of battle," the delight being in the struggle
itself, not in its successful issue. This is the kind of fighting
instinct which has characterized the great warriors of all ages.
In other spheres of action it has also characterized the great
, sailors, explorers, even reformers. It is par excellence the
characteristic of a warlike race, and, because of this, the warlike
races are nearly always capable, on occasion, of the highest
chivalry, for, when they fight, they are inspired by the joy of
battle, not by hate of the enemy. The hunting instinct and
the acquisitive tendency often exhibit analogous phenomena.

How can we account for such phenomena? One way of
accounting for them is by an appeal to the play impulse. But,
as we shall see when we come to discuss play, this will not
account for the facts. The battle which is a joy is not play,
but the grimmest reality; if it were play, the joy would dis-
appear, or at least be radically altered in quality. The real
explanation is to be found rather in the cooperation of the
'positive' self -tendency, in the feeling of strength and power
developed when we assert our superiority to circumstances,
and confidently face a difficult or dangerous situation. This
seems to be the only way in which we can explain the joyful
emotion, which appears to be quite different in quality from
the normal anger of the fighting instinct. We must take into
account, as before, the exhilarating character of the ' positive'
self -feeling itself, which, stimulating the impulse, develops
'tension' by outstripping the possibilities of action. So is it
always in the intoxication of joy, the 'tension,' in the extreme
case, being relieved by an emotional 'storm,' usually what we
call 'laughter,' the 'sudden glory' of Hobbes. but often by the
opposite kind of emotional 'storm,' 'weeping,' and sometimes
by a mixture or alternation of the two.

Bibot1 meets the difficulty of explaining 'joy,' by contend-
ing, like McDougall, that we cannot consider 'joy' emotional,

1 Psychology of the Emotions, p. 15.

,

194 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

since it is not really separable from sense- pleasure, and therefore
belongs with pleasure and pain, as a general characteristic of
emotional experience. We have already suggested that pain
may be emotional. Where sense-pleasure or any pleasure
passes beyond the mere 'satisfyingness,' which we have already
discussed, and involves 'tension,' as described, there seems no
reason to deny to it also emotional character. So too with
grief or sorrow. It is not the case that joy and grief are charac-
teristic of all emotional experience. They are specific, 'joy,'
we believe, to the 'positive' self- tendency, with the possible
exception that parental affection may sometimes involve an
independent 'joy,' 'grief to the parental instinct, with the
possible exception that 'subjection' may sometimes involve an
independent 'grief,' but in both cases we doubt the real inde-
pendence1.

Very considerable light is thrown upon these phenomena
by the fact that the self-tendencies occupy an anomalous
position in another respect. In their case it is only in the
very young child that the pure instincts, operating at the
perceptual level, make up any significant proportion of the
total manifestations of the instincts. As soon as the idea of
self emerges, a self-sentiment is formed, and, thenceforward,
they operate mainly in relation to this sentiment. In this
connection we shall have to consider their operation later.
In the meantime it is merely necessary to point out that the
formation of the self -sentiment inevitably changes the relation
of these tendencies to all other instinctive tendencies. Their
operation may come, as it were, to cover the whole field. What
I think, what I feel, what I do, so far as these come under the
observation of other people, are parts of the 'self,' with reference
to which the self-tendencies may operate. My sentiments, my
opinions, my emotions, my beliefs, my actions, my habits, are
all parts of ME, and 'positive' self -feeling is experienced,
whenever these meet the approving regards of other people,
'negative' self -feeling, whenever they are disapproved. This
is really the primary fact to keep in view in connection with the
social and educational significance of the self -tendencies.
1 See Appendix III.

vm] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 195

At the purely instinctive level, however, and apart from
their relations through the self-sentiment, these tendencies
exert their characteristic moulding influence on the behaviour
of individuals, which makes them at all levels so important
socially and educationally, a moulding influence, because they
necessarily imply a relation to others, and the recognition of
the superiority or inferiority of others. Self-display will not
repeat that behaviour which fails to procure its satisfaction.
' Negative ' self -feeling will open the door wide for the operation
of the general tendencies of imitation and suggestibility. Thus,
at the purely perceptual level, these tendencies operate, with the
gregarious instinct, and its impulse, in assimilating to one another
the individuals of a society, in opinion, feeling, and action.

The Parental Instinct. In the parental instinct, with its
emotion, we have another tendency, which, in its developed
form in the human being, reaches a high degree of complexity,
and which presents some of the same psychological difficulties
as the self -tendencies. Its importance is also at least equal
to theirs. As one main source, perhaps the only source of
altruistic conduct, it is probably more important from the
social point of view than even the self -tendencies, and certainly
deserves the very careful attention of the moralist.

In man the instinct itself, as McDougall has very clearly
shown1, is practically altruistic, for, though phylogenetically
based on the instinct of the mother, it has become the instinct
of male and female alike, but perhaps not normally to the same
extent, and, as impulse and emotion, it has expanded far
beyond the perceptual situation which originally evoked it.
In man the impulse is not necessarily confined to the individual's
own offspring, but may take within its range all children, even
all the weak, helpless, and suffering. It may develop, indeed,
so as to cover all humanity, and every living creature. In
crude instinctive human life, we may regard the parental
instinct as the counterpoise to the hunting instinct ; in developed
human life it may become the counterpoise to all the selfish
endencies.

1 Social Psychology, pp. 69-71, 73-79.

13—2

196 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

Primarily the perceptual situation which evokes the instinct
is the need or distress of the individual's offspring, expressing
itself in the characteristic cry. Even at this stage the impulse
is altruistic. Normally, in the human being, the instinct is
aroused by the cry of any child, in need, helpless, or distressed.
The impulse is always to protect and relieve. In this instance
simple statements like these tend to be misleading, owing to
the very great complexity of the instinct in man, and the
variety of situations which may evoke it, the complexity and
variety being the result of a long process of evolution, both
individual and social. The mere sight of weakness and help-
lessness, without any need or distress, much less any cry of
distress, is generally sufficient to determine the impulse and
its appropriate emotion, while a child's cry of distress arouses
the emotion in such intensity, that it passes almost immediately
into anger at the cause of the distress.

When we consider the emotional accompaniments of the
instinct, we meet difficulties analogous to those we have already
met in the case of the self -tendencies. The instinct-emotion
itself McDougall, following Ribot1, calls 'tender emotion.' The
name is not very satisfactory, but it is difficult to suggest a
better. ' Love ' is more appropriately applied to the sentiment,
and to apply it also to the primary emotion is simply to create
confusion; 'affection' might be used, but this also suggests a
sentiment; 'kindly feeling' does not sufficiently express the
emotional character, nor does 'tenderness.' We seem, therefore,
almost compelled to accept Ribot's term.

Shand denies that 'tender emotion' is primary, and would
substitute 'pity' as the primary emotion2. Possibly this is a
mere matter of terminology, but it indicates a real and important
underlying difference and difficulty. ' Pity,' as popularly used,
names an emotion which is certainly not primary. Starting
from this popular sense of ' pity,' Shand maintains, that we may
have ' pity,' which does not involve sympathy, and in that case
we have a real primary emotion, a "kind of sorrow3." It must

1 Psychology of the Emotions, p. 233.

2 Stout, Groundwork of Psychology, chap, xvi, p. 202.

3 Foundations of Character, p. 203.

vni] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 197

be remembered, however, that Shand takes a view similar to
ours with regard to the nature of emotion, holding that it is
always due to some checking of an impulse, some delay of action.

McDougall agrees with Shand in analysing 'pity,' as
popularly understood, into the two elements, sympathetic pain,
and his primary, 'tender emotion1,' while he maintains that
'sorrow' is more complex, since it involves a sentiment of love
or affection, whereas 'pity' may be felt, when there is no such
sentiment2. And McDougall holds, in opposition to Shand's
view, that the primary ' tender emotion ' is always " pleasantly
toned, save at its highest intensity3." At the same time, one
cannot help feeling that McDougall's whole description of
'tender emotion,' and the situations which evoke it, is incon-
sistent with this contention that it is always pleasantly toned.
Thus he says: "the impulse is primarily to afford physical
protection to the child4," and the original "provocative of
tender emotion is not the child itself, but the child's expression
of pain, fear, or distress of any kind5." Again, he points out
that "there are women, who cannot sit still, or pursue any
occupation, within sound of the distressed cry of a child; if
circumstances compel them to restrain their impulse to run to
its relief, they yet cannot withdraw their attention from the
sound, but continue to listen in painful agitation*"

The conclusion, that is forced upon us even by McDougall's
own description of the phenomena, is that to say it is always
pleasantly toned is to contradict some of the main facts
brought forward in the description. It must be remembered
that, in so far as any impulse attains its end, there is pleasure
as ' satisfyingness.' If the intensity of the emotion varies with
the 'satisfyingness,' we appear to have a case similar to
'positive' self -feeling, already discussed. If not, that is, if
the emotion varies with the ' tension,' in the more usual sense
of the satisfaction of the impulse being delayed or suspended,
Shand is not far wrong, in finding in this primary emotion —
whether we call it ' tender emotion ' or ' pity ' — the germ of
' sorrow.'

1 McDougall, Social Psychology, p. 253. 2 Op. cit., loc. cit.

3 Op. cit., p. 150. 4 Op. cit., p. 72. 5 Op. cit., p. 73.

• Op. cit., p. 73. The italics are ours.

198 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

Hence, the solution of the difficulty is, we believe, to be
found in recognizing that the 'tender emotion' is a 'joy'
emotion, and, next to the emotion of 'elation' itself, the 'joy'
emotion. It may be that the 'tender emotion' alone, without
the cooperation of 'positive' self -feeling, gives a 'joy5 of its
own, qualitatively different from any other emotion, and
primary, but we do not think this is a true description of the
phenomena. We must clearly recognize, that, where 'tender
emotion' becomes 'joy,' it is always developed in relation to
a sentiment of love or affection. From the very nature of
affection, the object of affection becomes, in a very real sense,
a part of the 'self.' We should therefore interpret the 'joy' of
'tender emotion' in the same way as we interpreted the 'joy'
of anger, as due to a fusion of 'tender emotion' with 'elation,'
in presence of a sentiment of love for the object.

If we employ the term ' tender emotion ' in a more restricted
sense, to denote the primary emotion corresponding to the
parental instinct, when aroused under the ordinary conditions
of 'tension,' and recognize that, as emotion, it is tinged with
pain or 'sorrow,' as Shand suggests, then we have an emotion
corresponding to 'subjection,' which is not unlike 'subjection'
in some respects, and which will readily fuse with it. We may
call this 'tender sorrow,' but there is no 'sorrow' in a strict
sense. 'Sorrow' or 'grief,' in the strict and purest sense, is
probably best interpreted as a fusion, in presence of a sentiment
of love, of the two emotions 'subjection,' and 'tender emotion,'
and that which is most characteristic of it is the latter.

This interpretation of the facts seems to involve a recognition
of, not one, but two primary emotions, corresponding to the
parental instinct. It may be that this is necessary. We are,
however, inclined rather to the view, that there is only the one
primary emotion, as such, the second, and that, in the first
case, 'tender emotion' is not present as emotion, just as anger
is not present as anger in the joy of battle. This is our real
position, though, in describing the phenomena just now, we
have perhaps been unconsciously influenced by McDougall's
view of the nature of emotion, and have employed language,
which may be a little ambiguous.

vm] The Specific, 'Instinct' Tendencies 199

Curiosity. Several of the older psychologists, as we have
seen, from Descartes to Dugald Stewart, gave particular notice
to 'curiosity,' as an instinctive tendency, and Adam Smith1
has discussed carefully and at length the allied emotions. In
modern times Karl Groos has discussed curiosity as a form of
play2, and most biologists and comparative psychologists have
noted instances of the tendency in the animal world. The
fullest treatment in recent psychology is that of Shand3.
McDougall's treatment is brief, and contains little of interest.
He uses the word ' curiosity ' to name the instinct, attaching to
it the primary emotion 'wonder.' But, in this case at least,
the one term can very well be employed for both instinctive
tendency and emotion. Not only so, but something of the
nature of emotion is, in this instance, probably felt whenever
the instinctive tendency is operating. This view Shand
apparently would not accept, for he maintains that curiosity
is 'impulse' rather than 'emotion4,' but surely it is not the
impulse that we primarily call 'curiosity.'

The instinctive tendency is easily described. The deter-
mining perceptual situation is anything which is new or, within
limits, strange. The impulse is to examine, and, if necessary,
approach, and handle, for purposes of examination, the novel
object.

If 'curiosity' is to be regarded as an emotion, as well as an
instinct, it becomes necessary to give some account and ex-
planation of 'wonder.' Probably few psychologists would
agree with McDougall5, in any case, in holding that 'wonder'
can legitimately be used to express the primary emotion,
corresponding to the instinct of curiosity, although apparently
Shand does agree6, and even goes farther, implying that this
use is quite in keeping with the ordinary use of the word.
Except in the not infrequent use of 'wonder' as a verb, in
such expressions as: "I wonder if so-and-so has happened,"

1 History of Astronomy.

2 Die Spiele der Tiere, p. 238 ff. English translation, p. 214.

3 Foundations of Character, book n, chap. xvn.

4 Op. cit.. p. 441.

5 Social Psychology, pp. 58-9.

6 Foundations of Character, p. 442 ff. It must be remembered however
that Shand regards emotion as due to 'arrested impulse.'

200 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

and the like, "wonder," as ordinarily used, always implies
more than curiosity, and even in the case of the verb, which
is most usually only another way of expressing a question,
the interest which prompts the question is not necessarily a
'curious' interest. Most psychologists would agree that
* wonder' is baffled curiosity, but beyond that it would be
difficult to find agreement. The fact is, that 'wonder' is used
very loosely in popular speech; sometimes it is equivalent to
surprise, sometimes to curiosity, sometimes to a fusion of the
two, and sometimes to a fusion of curiosity, surprise, and
' negative ' self -feeling.

The main psychological problem, in this connection, appears
to be the mutual relations of surprise, curiosity, and wonder.
Surprise, as we have already indicated, is the emotional response
to 'unexpectedness,' and passes into curiosity, when the situa-
tion is not calculated to arouse fear, anger, or some such emotion,
but continues to present a question, that is, when the 'unex-
pected,' which is always allied to the 'novel,' becomes the
'novel/ which, as 'novel/ arouses the enquiring impulse.
Wonder is developed as the consciousness of a baffled enquiring
impulse developes, but curiosity still persists in wonder, until
the wonder passes into blank astonishment, or, in the extreme
case, amazement. According to this view, there is the question,
the striving to answer the question, the baffled striving still
continuing, the 'giving it up/ corresponding to the ' unexpected/
the 'novel/ the 'wonderful/ and the 'amazing.'

This appears to be the simplest account and explanation
of the various emotions, and, as such, ought to determine the
psychological use of the various terms. If this view is accepted,
'wonder/ in its simplest and most elementary form, is baffled
curiosity, with perhaps a return of some of the original surprise1.
It is therefore hardly to be regarded as a primary emotion in
the strict sense.

There are perhaps two objections to this view. In the
first place, it may be argued, that we have already defined
emotion as 'tension/ due to the checking of impulse. If the

1 Shand, Foundations of Character, p. 444 f. Bain, The Emotions and the
Will, chap. iv.

vm] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 201

emotion 'curiosity' already involves the checking of impulse,
how is a further checking, and a new and different emotion
arising therefrom, possible ? The answer is, that we must take
the facts as we find them, and suit our explanation to the facts,
not attempt to make 'facts' to fit our explanation. If it is of
the nature of this particular impulse 'to know,' that it should
always be accompanied, as we maintain that it always is
accompanied, by the experienced 'tension' we call the emotion
'curiosity,' we must just accept the fact; if the baffling of the
impulse 'to know' always gives rise to a new emotional experi-
ence, which we agree to call 'wonder' in the strict sense, then
we must also accept this second fact.

In the second place, it may be argued, that in every other
case an instinct has associated with it, and characteristic of
it, one, and only one, emotion, while, in this case, we appear
to have three or four. Again, if the facts compel us to take
such a view, there does not seem to be any escape from it.
But the facts do not really force us to go so far. Surprise may
require to be regarded as a primary emotion, but the primary
emotion, corresponding to the instinct of curiosity, is the
emotion of curiosity; the others are secondary, not primary.
That curiosity should, under certain conditions, pass over into
wonder, is at any rate not more peculiar than that fear should,
under certain conditions, pass into anger, or that 'tender
emotion' should pass into sorrow.

The importance of curiosity and wonder, as the basis of
that 'intellectual curiosity' and disinterested love of the truth,
which furnish the driving power in scientific research, and
philosophical investigation and speculation, has been sufficiently
emphasized in the past, and by many writers of all shades of
opinion. Perhaps it has been over-emphasized. In education,
at all events, the tendency has been to interpret that interest
which the teacher must utilize and guide, in order that success-
ful school work may go on, almost solely in terms of curiosity.
This involves two educational errors. The one lies in ignoring,
or belittling, practical interests, which are sometimes more
valuable, and often more fruitful, than theoretical interest.
The other is what amounts to an assumption, that theoretical
interest is always reducible to curiosity. To interpret curiosity

202 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

vaguely as the impulse, or desire, 'to know' amounts to a
suggestion that the questioning attitude always involves
curiosity, when, as a matter of fact, it frequently does not
involve curiosity at all, or only to an insignificant extent. A
gap in my knowledge may be theoretically of no significance,
I may not even be conscious of it as a gap, while practically
it may mean the difference between success and failure in
something I wish to do. In such a case — and in everyday life
there are scores of them — it is some other impulse, not curiosity,
that makes me conscious of the gap, that gives it significance,
that furnishes the motive force inducing me to strive to fill it
up, that gives, in other words, the desire 'to know.' The
other side of the story has been so often emphasized, that there
seems little danger in occasionally emphasizing this side.

Many other tendencies, apparently belonging to this group,
have been claimed as simple and instinctive by various writers,
but in practically every case these can be clearly shown to be
either complex, or manifestations of one or other of the ten-
dencies we have discussed. Thus James would recognize
'sociability' and 'shyness1,' ' secretiveness2,' 'cleanliness3/
'modesty' and 'shame4,' 'love5,' 'jealousy6.' Some of these
are merely alternative names for tendencies we have discussed.
'Secretiveness' is the only one which offers any difficulty, and
that seems to be, not a single tendency, but the manifestation,
under certain conditions, of several, as, for example, fear,
acquisition, self-abasement. The others are obviously either
derived or complex, and some can be shown to involve senti-
ments, which we shall proceed to discuss immediately.

Shand, in his Foundations of Character, sets himself the
problem of discovering and formulating the fundamental
principles of human character. Working over only part of
the ground, for he announces another similar work on the
'sentiments,' he has succeeded in formulating as laws one
hundred and forty-four such principles. The psychologist can
only regard this formidable total with dismay. If this is to
be taken as the only possible kind of formulation of the laws

1 Principles of Psychology, vol. IT, p. 430. 2 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 432.

3 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 434. 4 Op. cit., vol. II, p. 435.

6 Op. cit,, vol. n, p. 437. « Op. cit., vol. n, p. 439.

vm] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 203

of character, a science of character, in any real sense, must be
regarded as unattainable.

Nevertheless it is undoubtedly possible to formulate laws,
applicable to the emotional ' instinct ' tendencies, which will
be fundamental, general, and few, and such laws may justifiably
be regarded as the fundamental laws of human character, to
the extent that these tendencies form its basis. Of laws of this
kind there appear to be at least five, if we include two, for which
James is responsible, and these laws may be called : the law of
transference of impulse, the law of fusion of emotions, the law of
complication of behaviour, the law of inhibition by habit, and the
law of transiency.

(1) The law of transference of impulse may be expressed in
the form : as a result of experience, and under certain more or
less definite conditions, the instinctive impulse may come to
be evoked in connection with objects or situations, different
from those which originally evoke it.

This law was recognized by Spinoza and Malebranche,
Hutcheson, Hume, and Adam Smith, and great stress was laid
upon it by the English Associationists. McDougall has also
treated it in some detail1. In human life, the most important
case of 'transference' is probably from the end to the means
for attaining that end. But similarity also determines ' trans-
ference,' and likewise association by contiguity in space or in
time, as McDougall very clearly shows. At the same time we
must be very cautious in ascribing to mere contiguity a result,
which, in this as in other cases, is really due to the fact that
the part-experience gains significance from the whole of which
it is a part. In other words, we may classify the case of ' trans^
ference,' as due to association by contiguity, but it is explicablej
only in terms of meaning. Curiosity may afford an exception
to this law, if we take it in any strict sense, but it is apparently
the only exception.

(2) The law of fusion of emotions may be expressed in the form :
any primary emotion may fuse with any other primary emotion,
with certain possible exceptions, to produce an emotional ex-
perience, different from the emotions involved, and suo genere,
but in general analysable into its elementary components.

1 Social Psychology, pp. 34-40.

204 The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

An exception may be 'positive' and 'negative' self -feeling,
which, if McDougall's analysis is right1, alternate, rather
than fuse, to give the complex emotional experience we call
'bashfulness.' It must be noted, however, that the fusion is
more or less incomplete in cases where the respective impulses
are incompatible, and, in such cases, the component emotions
are as a rule easily distinguishable.

(3) The law of complication of behaviour follows from the
law of fusion of emotions, and may be expressed in the form :
where different impulses are evoked by the same situation, and
different emotions fuse in the resulting experience, the behaviour
will at all times be a complication of the behaviours correspond-
ing to the respective impulses ; where there is imperfect fusion,
owing to the incompatibility of the impulses, the behaviour will
show alternation, rather than complication, and occasionally both.

It is perhaps worth remarking, that, in the case of the
human being, instinctive behaviour is highly modifiable, but
this does not apparently affect the operation of the law.

The next two laws, the law of inhibition by habit, and the
law of transiency, have both been fully discussed by James2
and we may therefore take his statement of the laws.

(4) "When objects of a certain class elicit from an animal
a certain sort of reaction, it often happens that the animal
becomes partial to the first specimen of the class on which it has
reacted, and will not afterward react on any other specimen3."

To a certain extent this may be regarded as a law of the
formation of a sentiment, but it also appears to be valid apart
from a sentiment, in the usual sense at least. We shall discuss
the sentiments presently.

(5) "Many instincts ripen at a certain age and then fade
away4."

To these five laws we might perhaps add two other funda-
mental laws of human character, which have a somewhat wider
range, but also apply to the instinct tendencies, — the law of
selection by experienced results, and the law of development by
stimulation.

The only additional remark we have to make is in connection

1 Social Psychology, p. 146. 2 Principles of Psychology, vol. II, pp. 394-402.

3 Op. cit., p. 394. * Op. cit., vol. n, p. 398.

vm] The Specific 'Instinct' Tendencies 205

with the fifth law. Whether the law is generally operative or
not, it is certain that, in the cases where it is operative, the
final result cannot be adequately expressed by the phrase ' fade
away,5 if that implies no effect left on the nature and character.
This is very obvious with some of the more important tendencies,
and presumably a similar phenomenon may, on careful investi-
gation, be found in the case of all. Many facts, quite apart
from those brought to light and emphasized by psycho-analysts,
indicate that there is a process of 'replacement' or 'sublimation,'
which may be of the nature of 'transference/ as we have ex-
plained it, but often is not, and which may exercise a profound
influence upon character and development. This kind of
result is most evident, perhaps, in the case of instincts and
appetites bearing upon the preservation of the race, but it can
be shown to hold of many other instinctive tendencies, and it
is important in exact proportion as they are important in
'full,' normal life1.

The ' Pure ' Instincts. The complex emotional instinct ten-
dencies are comparatively easy to specify with more or less
correctness, and to describe. It is not so with the simple or
'pure' instinct tendencies, partly because of the fact that the
line of demarcation between them and reflexes is very difficult
to draw, except theoretically, and partly because they are very
early overlaid by numerous 'learned reactions.' Nevertheless
it is at least possible to indicate, as we have done, the main
groups in which these tendencies may be classified.

There appear to be four such groups. We may speak there-
fore of instinct reactions of adjustment and attention, instinct
reactions of prehension, instinct reactions of locomotion, and
instinct reactions of vocalization, giving, in each case, a fairly wide
signification to our terms. Some of the reactions which would
be included under each head may be reflex, but there cannot
be any doubt that many of them are instinctive. Tentatively
we should classify under the first head (reactions of adjustment
and attention) ' sucking,' ' biting object placed in the mouth,'
'licking,' 'pointing,' and the like; under the second head,

1 See Jones, "Psycho-analysis and Education," in Journal of Educational
Psychology, vol. i, 1910, p. 498, vol. m, 1912, p. 241.

206 The Specific l Instinct ' Tendencies [CH. vin

'clasping object placed in palm of hand,' 'grasping after distant
object,' 'carrying object to mouth,' and the like; under the
third, ' sitting up,' ' standing,' ' creeping,' ' walking,' ' running,'
' climbing,' or at least the initiatory movements in each ; and
under the fourth, 'crying,' 'babbling,' 'echolalia.'

Though the psychology of these 'pure' instinct tendencies
is naturally simple, the part played by them in the develop-
ment of the human being is by no means unimportant. Quite
the reverse. The 'motor adaptation1,' through which the child
comes to recognize and know his material world, is founded
upon and developed out of these unlearned instinct reactions ;
speech itself, the gateway to the child's social world, is no less
founded upon them ; and all physical dexterities, in particular,
-represent chains of activities, the first links of which are always,
or almost always, these same simple instinct reactions.

The mode in which these developments take place can also
be described in more or less general terms. One of two things
may happen in any particular case. On the one hand, a
reaction may, owing to circumstances, create a situation which
has an interest in relation to some one or other of the complex
emotional tendencies, and the course of activity thus initiated
is maintained by the interest in question. On the other hand,
results produced may be satisfying with reference to an existing
instinctive, or more generally appetitive, tendency, and the
particular reaction tends thenceforward to be bound up with
the particular appetite. The process has been admirably
described by Stout2, except for the fact that Stout largely
ignores, or seems to ignore, the instinctive basis of the whole.

Thus, while there is no evidence in the case of the human
being of anything approaching the long chains of 'pure' instinct
actions, which we find in some of the lower organisms, we can
also say that there is no need of, nor any opportunity for,
instinct manifestations of this order. Without them the pro-
vision of the means of adjustment is complete, and on better
lines and after a more efficient model for the particular kind
of work in hand.

1 Stout, Groundwork of Psychology, p. 91. See also Manual.

2 Op. cit., chap. vin.

CHAPTER IX

INTERESTS AND SENTIMENTS

We owe to Shand1 a specialization of the word 'sentiment'
for psychological purposes, which almost all the psychologists
of the present day adopt. According to this use, a 'sentiment'
is denned as "an organized system of emotional tendencies,
centred about some object2." As Stout3 puts it, "an object
which has been connected with agreeable or disagreeable
activities, which has given rise to manifold emotions, which
has been the source of various satisfactions or dissatisfactions,
becomes valued or the opposite in and for itself," and we call
the organized disposition, thus formed, a 'sentiment.'

Theoretically this definite recognition of the 'sentiment,'
as an important determining element in human behaviour,
seems valuable, and even necessary, for psychology; but
practically it involves several difficulties of a more or less
serious nature, which psychologists have almost entirely
ignored. If we take McDougall's definition, which is probably
the clearest and the most concise of the various definitions,
our first difficulty arises when we try to attach a fuller meaning
to 'organized system of emotional tendencies.' The main ques-
tions that face us are: What is organization of emotional
tendencies? How many tendencies must be involved before
we can speak of an organized system? How is an organized
system of emotional tendencies, centred about an object,
developed ?

Before attempting to answer these questions, we shall
postulate that a sentiment is to be regarded, not as innate,

1 Art. "Character and the Emotions," in Mind, N. S., vol. V.

2 McDougall, Social Psychology, p. 122.

8 The Groundwork of Psychology, pp. 221-2.

208 Interests and Sentiments [CH.

like the instincts, but as a product of experience, and as in-
volving the ideational, as distinct from the perceptual level of
intelligence, and therefore a psychical integration that is on
a higher plane altogether.

This postulate is inconsistent with Shand's view, that some
of the sentiments are innately organized1. We can find nothing
in the evidence he brings forward in support of this thesis,
that cannot be more easily interpreted without assuming innate
sentiments. He first of all argues that "all primary emotions
and impulses are innately connected with the emotion of
anger2." So far as this is merely another statement of the
fact that interference with the working out of any natural
tendency may evoke anger, we of course accept it, but without
accepting Shand's view of the primary emotions as * systems,'
thus innately connected with the anger 'system.' When he
goes on to argue that the satisfaction of any instinctive impulse
involves 'joy,' and its frustration 'sorrow3,' we are quite
unable to agree, without attaching such meanings to 'joy' and
'sorrow,' as to empty them of their whole specific content as
emotions.

Hence we are quite unable to accept Shand's conclusion
that the primary emotional systems of anger, fear, joy, and
sorrow are innately connected with every emotional impulse
and with one another4, in any sense corresponding to the sense
in which he understands this connection. It goes without
saying, therefore, that we cannot accept the view that this
innately organized system of emotional tendencies is also
innately connected with certain objects.

The organization of emotional tendencies in the sentiment
can only mean for us the association through experience of
certain emotional tendencies with an object, or rather idea.
This involves that such organization as there is must be
looked for in the idea, not in the emotional tendencies them-
selves. In so far as several emotional tendencies are associated
with the idea of an object, so that the emotions tend to be

1 The Foundations of Character, book i, chap. iv.

2 Op. cit., p. 35. 3 Op. cit., p. 36.
* Shand, op. cit., p. 37.

ix] Interests and Sentiments 209

readily evoked by the appropriate situations of the object,
either perceptually experienced, or ideally represented, the
sentiment itself, as a 'disposition/ may be said to be an
organized system of tendencies. The first question, therefore,
if our postulates are granted, does not present any serious
difficulty.

Answering the second question, we may legitimately main-
tain that a single emotional tendency, with the idea to which
it is connected, is an organized system of the kind we call a
'sentiment.' Morton Prince defines a sentiment as "an idea
linked with an instinct1." And our view practically amounts
to this. Any instinct may, in ideational consciousness, pass
into a sentiment. If an emotion, say fear, is so strongly asso-
ciated with a certain object, that, whenever the idea of that
object rises in consciousness, the emotion to a greater or a less
degree is experienced, there seems no sufficient reason for
refusing to recognize this as a sentiment. If we always deal
with complex sentiments, we shall always have extreme diffi-
culty in arriving at a real psychological understanding of the
character of the system or disposition. It is important that
we should recognize the sentiment in this its simplest form2.
Even in this form it may have considerable complexity, due
to the fact that the idea itself has its associations, the idea
itself is a centre of relations.

Our third question can now be answered with comparative
ease. When any emotion is intensely or frequently excited by
any object, the idea of that object, whenever it comes into
consciousness, reinstates, or tends to reinstate, the emotion.
Thus the simplest kind of sentiment is formed as an ' emotional
disposition' in ideational consciousness. Once formed, a senti-
ment, especially if it is frequently active, tends to develop
in strength and in complexity, and it may develop in com-
plexity in two ways. On the one hand, the emotionally
tinged idea carries its emotional accompaniment with it, so
to speak, into the various ideational complexes into which it
enters. On the other hand, the fact that an idea already

1 The Unconscious, p. 452.

2 McDougall also recognizes this. Op. cit., p. 163.

14

210 Interests and Sentiments [CH.

carries with it an emotion tends to cause other emotions to be
easily aroused in connection with it, and an emotional complex
is therefore formed around the idea in question.

Examples of both kinds of development are by no means
rare, either under normal or under pathological conditions.
The commonest examples of development in complexity on the
idea side are probably those cases, where a concrete particular
becomes a concrete general sentiment, as when love for a
particular dog develops into love for dogs in general. An
example of development on the emotion side is where what
begins as a sentiment of fear develops into a sentiment of hate.
Thus an individual A is associated in our minds with a terrify-
ing experience or with frequent terrifying experiences. At
first the idea of A is merely the centre of a fear sentiment, but
the fear sentiment will easily develop into hatred, and, under
certain conditions, as, for example, if A belongs to a different
town, or, better still, to another nation, it may also become a
hatred of all who belong to that town or nation.

Before going on any farther, it is necessary for us to try
to determine the exact relation of a sentiment to an instinct.
An instinct may also be regarded as a 'disposition,' in virtue
of which an individual experiences a certain emotional excite-
ment in presence of a particular object or situation. How does
it differ from a sentiment? We might answer by saying that
the one is innate, the other acquired as a result of experience.
But this difference, however important it may be, does not
appear to be the distinction upon which the psychologist ought
to lay chief stress. Psychologically the main distinction is
that the instinct 'disposition' is perceptual, that is, involves
only perceptual consciousness, while the sentiment ' disposition '
is ideational, and is a sentiment because it is ideational.
This means that the sentiment 'disposition' may become
active, and therefore its emotional tendency may be evoked,
independently of the perceptual situation which is required
to evoke the same emotional tendency in the case of the
instinct.

Unless we keep firm hold of this distinction, our recognition
of sentiments can only lead to confusion. We have already

ix ] Interests and Sentiments 211

seen that in Man an instinctive tendency may, as a result of
experience, come to be evoked by an object or situation different
from that which originally and naturally evokes it, and some
of our human instincts are more or less generalized in this
respect, apart from experience. At first sight it seems merely
an extension of these phenomena, when an instinct, or rather
its emotional tendency, becomes associated with the idea of
an object or situation, in the case of the human being, or of
any animal capable of ideal representation. But it can easily
be shown that the formation of a sentiment involves more
than the extension of instinct phenomena.

The sentiment provides a setting which controls and limits
the activity of the instinct. This is perhaps best seen in the
way of repression. In the case of an instinct, as we have seen,
the evoking of an emotion by a particular situation does not in-
hibit the evoking of any other primary emotion at the same time
by the same situation. The emotions evoked may show more
or less fusion; only their impulses, if antagonistic, tend to
inhibit, or inhibit, one another. It may be objected that there
are cases where instincts totally inhibit one another, and it
must be granted that this may be so in the case of the two self-
tendencies, or perhaps anger and the 'tender emotion.' In the
latter case, however, it is certain that we may have also emotional
fusion of a kind, though the impulses tend to inhibit one another,
and at any particular moment only one can operate. Further
one and the same object may evoke different instincts with their
emotional accompaniments, if presented in different perceptual
situations. In both instances the effect of a sentiment is to
introduce stability and control, by inhibiting instincts and
emotional tendencies which would otherwise be evoked. This
repressive function of the sentiment also explains how and why
sentiments can, to such an extent, control opinions and beliefs.
Its repressive action is by no means confined to perceptual
experience, and many of the 'dissociations' of abnormal psy-
chology are also to be explained in this way.

There is another relation of the sentiment which is important
psychologically. That is the relation of a sentiment to an
acquired interest. This problem has been very much neglected

14—2

!212 Interests and Sentiments [CH.

by psychologists, and recent psychologists, with the exception
of Stout1, have almost altogether ignored this relation.

The two usages of the word 'interest,' as applied to an
experienced feeling, and as applied to that which determines
the objects, with regard to which we shall have the feeling,
can be at times very confusing. When we speak of ' an interest '
or 'interests' in the plural, we are generally using the term in
the second sense. Baldwin and Stout suggest2, that we ought
to distinguish between the two meanings, by using a different
terminology in each case, and they propose the terms 'actual
interest' and ' dispositional interest.' Perhaps it would be
better to speak of 'interest experience' and 'interest disposition,'
but, at all events, some such distinction would be a psychological
convenience.

Now an instinct is an 'interest disposition,' since it deter-
mines 'interest experience' in relation to particular objects.
We must therefore distinguish further between native and
acquired 'interest dispositions.' Are we then to regard a senti-
ment as simply an acquired 'interest disposition' on the idea-
tional level? If I have an acquired interest in, say, botany,
can I call this a sentiment of ' love for botany ' ? Surely there
is some distinction underlying even the loose popular use of
the terms, although popular speech often confuses the two.
The distinction seems to be, that the activity of a sentiment
always involves emotional excitement, whereas the activity of
an 'interest disposition' involves merely ' worth whileness,'
'interest experience.' In a sense the sentiment is merely a
particular type of 'interest disposition.' Nevertheless the
distinction seems worth drawing and worth adhering to.

This distinction is interesting in view of our refusal to
admit McDougall's contention, that the evoking of an instinct
necessarily involves an emotional excitement. Acquired 'in-
terest dispositions,' like sentiments, are based upon instincts.
Just as the instinct may be active without emotional excitement,
so the 'interest disposition' at the higher level, founded upon
it and developed out of it, may be active without emotional

1 See Groundwork of Psychology, p. 221.

2 Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology, s.v. Interest.

ix] Interests and Sentiments 213

disturbance; while, just as the activity of the instinct may,
under other conditions, involve emotional excitement, so we
have the sentiment founded upon it, and developed out of
it, largely through and because of this emotional excitement,
involving always in its activity some emotional disturbance.

In the human being, though the acquired 'interest disposi-
tions ' and sentiments play an analogous part on the ideational
level to the part played by the instincts on the perceptual
level, they also involve a synthesis, or an integration, of a higher
order. The part played by simple interests and sentiments,
corresponding to individual instincts, is comparatively unim-
portant. In most cases our acquired interests merge in one
or other of the great sentiment complexes which are developed.
These great sentiment complexes supply, as it were, the final
reservoir of energy. Normally the 'interest experience,' deter-
mined by an acquired interest, passes into ' satisf yingness '
without any emotional excitement. But if there is a check,
if some obstacle intervenes, the necessary energy to overcome
it is drawn from the appropriate sentiment, and the strength
of the impulse seeking satisfaction, and therefore the amount
of resistance that will be overcome, depends, in the last resort,
on the organized force which the sentiment represents, or at
least that part of the organized force, which, in the particular
circumstances, can be brought to bear.

In some respects this might be regarded as a repetition of
instinct phenomena, for certain instinctive tendencies, as we
have seen, are reinforcing agents, but it is a repetition of the
phenomena on a higher plane. Organized force, in place of
individual force, is evoked, and for that reason the emotional
excitement will much more rarely reach the intensity which
paralyses action or renders it ineffective .

It must be recollected too that every idea belongs, not
merely to a knowledge system, but also to an interest or senti-
ment system. This we might infer from our previous discussion
of 'meaning.' But independent evidence is forthcoming in
various phenomena of ideomotor action, of suggestion, and of
abnormal conditions of consciousness. On the basis of this
fact, an explanation of the affective element in belief may bo

214 Interests and Sentiments [CH.

obtained. Belief, in any real sense, is more than mere cognition.
It has relations to feelings and action, which some psychologists
have emphasized as the essential elements of the conscious
state. Obviously this relation to feeling and to action in the
experience is due to the fact that a belief is either itself an
'interest disposition,' or an element in an 'interest disposition'
or in a sentiment.

Finally we must recognize that, under normal conditions,
there is a ' dispositional whole,' so to speak, which controls
human experience and action. McDougall has shown that
this 'dispositional whole,' constituted by 'interest dispositions'
and sentiments, presents usually in its arrangement a kind of
hierarchy1. There is a relative order of dominance, often with
one single dominant or 'master' sentiment. Dominance is
determined partly by the original strength of the interests
involved, partly by the organization of the system, and partly
by the frequency with which it has operated in the past.
Hence habit, too, in its wider aspect, habits of thought and
attitude, must be studied in relation to interests and sentiments.
It is unfortunate that this part of psychology should be in so
backward a state, for the importance of the psychology of
habits, interests, and sentiments to the educator can hardly
be overestimated.

We employ the word ' sentimental' to describe two kinds
of character, the character whose actions are swayed by senti-
ments rather than reasoned principles, and the character of
those people who tend to revel in the emotional excitement
itself, which the activity of a sentiment involves. The first
of these meanings, at least, leads us to another important
distinction, more particularly as regards the abstract senti-
ments, that is, the distinction between sentiment and 'ideal.'
Consider, for example, the sentiment 'love of justice' and the
'ideal of justice.' What is the psychological difference between
the two? It would appear to be this. The sentiment 'love
of justice' is a disposition, constituted by certain emotional
tendencies, that is, those characteristic of 'love' sentiments,
associated with the abstract idea of justice. The 'ideal of

1 Social Psychology, p. 259.

ix] Interests and Sentiments 215

justice,' on the other hand, involves reflection upon the meaning
of ' justice,' and the acceptance of justice as a determining end
of action, that is, recognition by the 'self of * justice' as repre-
senting law for the 'self.' Thus the ideal, though it is generally
based upon the sentiment, is more than the sentiment, and
involves activity on a yet higher plane, and a yet larger syn-
thesis. This distinction is obscured in popular usage, but is
worth being adhered to and emphasized in psychology. Action
determined by sentiment may show all kinds of inconsistencies
and incongruities, owing to two facts, the fact that it is emo-
tionally controlled, and the fact that the ideational conscious-
ness, at the heart of the sentiment, is not rationalized by reflec-
tion upon the meanings of the ideas involved and their relations.
Action determined by an ideal is, within the limits of the ideal,
consistent and harmonious. The ideal therefore represents a
higher level of psychical integration than the sentiment, just
as the sentiment represents a higher level than the instinct.

We have no intention here of entering upon a detailed
discussion of the psychology of ethics, but the points we have
touched upon had to be cleared up for two reasons, in the first
place, in order to show how the instincts of man are involved,
and their operation complicated, in the characteristic pro-
cesses and dispositions of the human mind, in the second place,
in order to make intelligible some parts of our subsequent
discussion of the general instinct tendencies.

To enumerate the sentiments in any human being is impos-
sible, but it is possible to classify them. Various schemes of
classification have been proposed. That which seems most
convenient for psychology is into 'simple,' and 'complex,' on
the emotional side, and then into 'sentiments of love and
hatred' and 'sentiments of value,' under each head. The
classes 'sentiments of love and hatred' and 'sentiments of
value,' do not appear to be mutually exclusive, and, indeed,
the latter seem to cover the whole field. This difficulty can
be obviated by explicitly excluding the former, and calling
the class ' sentiments of value, which are not sentiments of love
or hatred.'

A ' simple ' sentiment consists of a single emotional tendency,

216 Interests and Sentiments [CH.

associated with, an idea or idea-complex. Such sentiments are
numerous, and are very prominent characteristics of various
pathological conditions, like the 'phobias.' Under normal
conditions, such sentiments play a relatively unimportant part
in human behaviour, as compared with the 'complex' senti-
ments. The 'complex' sentiment consists of more than one
emotional tendency, associated with an idea or idea-complex.
The great 'complex' sentiments may be exceedingly complex
on both sides.

The 'sentiments of love and hatred,' or 'sentiments of
attraction and aversion' are those we usually think of when the
word 'sentiment' is used. They are numerous, and some of
them are of very, great importance. The idea at the centre of
the sentiment need not be the idea of a person. We have such
sentiments as, love of home, love of animals, love of the sea,
love of justice, dislike of animals, dislike of traits of character,
dislike of material things, belonging to the class of which we
usually take affection for friends and hatred of enemies as the
typical sentiments. Such sentiments are generally complex on
the emotion side, but not often very complex on the idea side.
They are relatively simple, compared with some of the great
general 'sentiments of value.'

In a sense all sentiments are 'sentiments of value.' We
may nevertheless conveniently distinguish by this name senti-
ments involving primarily neither like nor dislike, neither love
nor hatred. These constitute the most important group of all
in the normal, developed character, the group to which the
great sentiments, like the religious sentiment, the national
sentiment, and the personal or 'self sentiment, belong. These
great 'sentiments of value' are in the highest degree complex,
both on the emotion side, and on the idea side. This becomes
very evident, when we consider the extent to which they tend
to 'polarize' words1. The religious sentiment best illustrates
this effect, and the words, which the followers of certain religions
consider it blasphemy to utter, may be regarded as striking
instances, though they are extreme cases. The pervasiveness
of any sentiment may be judged from its polarization of the

1 Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Professor at the Breakfast Table.

ix] Interests and Sentiments 217

words expressive of ideas belonging to its system. All words,
which are significant to any individual, are to a certain extent
polarized for that individual, since meaning, as we have seen,
is primarily affective. But such polarization is very different
from the polarization of a word, which, when uttered, causes
emotional reverberations through the whole nature. This
effect on words may, therefore, be taken as an index, not only
of the extent of the system, but of the strength of the sentiment,
the intensity of the emotional tendencies it organizes.

McDougall has traced, carefully and in detail1, the develop-
ment of what he calls the ' self -regarding sentiment,' but we
prefer to call simply the 'self sentiment,' showing what an
important part it plays in the formation of character and the
control of behaviour. The 'self sentiment' appears to us to
play an even more important part than that assigned to it by
McDougall.

The two self-tendencies, very early in life, attach them-
selves to an 'idea of self,' thus forming a sentiment. From
one point of view, this ' idea of self ' is almost entirely the idea
of a social self from the outset, the idea of a system of relations
between the 'self and other 'selves' being predominant in the
sentiment2. Just because the self-tendencies necessarily in-
volve a social reference, the development of this aspect of the
'self will be controlled throughout by the social reference, and
the expansion of the 'idea of self to include all those things,
with which the ' self ' is identified, which become or may become
objects of the "judgments, emotions, and sentiments" of other
men3, family, home, school, church, native town, native land,
will depend on the relations of the 'self with other 'selves.'

But the 'idea of self develops in a more intimate way,
which, though also socially conditioned, is not to the same
extent dependent upon this social reference. The 'self,' as it
were, extends inwards, as an organizing influence. All senti-
ments, in so far as they are 'sentiments of value,' become, in
proportion to the extent to which they are 'sentiments of value,'
integral parts of the 'self.'

1 Social Psychology, chaps vn, vm, ix. 2 Op. cit., p. 186.

3 Op. cit., p. 206.

218 Interests and Sentiments [CH. ix

Something in which I am deeply interested, a religious
belief, it may be, is spoken of disapprovingly or slightingly.
There may be no reflection upon me, either expressed or im-
plied. Yet the sentiment directly involved is not left to fight
the battle alone. The fact that the opinion is my opinion
inevitably involves the 'self sentiment' also. The circum-
stances may even be such as to favour a cold, dispassionate
argument, as to the merits of the case, but nine times out of
ten, if there is a strong sentiment involved, the matter is treated
as a personal matter, and the emotional tendencies of the
'self sentiment' play their part, sometimes to create lifelong
enmity between two people, because of a slight difference of
opinion which, on the surface, appears merely intellectual.

If this phenomenon occurs with opinions strongly held, it
occurs far more frequently with the sentiments of affection
for individual persons. The greater the affection, the more
intimate becomes the connection with the 'self,' and the more
readily does the ' self sentiment ' become involved in the activity
of the 'love sentiment.'

Any attempt to interpret such phenomena in terms merely
of social reference will inevitably represent only half the truth.
Under normal conditions, the 'self sentiment' must be regarded
as occupying an unique position among the sentiments, and
among the interests, in virtue of which it is an organizing force
of the utmost importance.

When the ' self sentiment ' is lacking, or weak, or developed
in a one-sided way, the whole personality is involved in the
weakness or one-sidedness. Overweening self-confidence, lack
of self-confidence, pride, servility, vanity, lack of self-respect,
are not characteristics of a single sentiment, but of the character
as a whole. Further, as McDougall has also very clearly
shown, a 'master' sentiment in the hierarchy of sentiments,
which takes the place of the 'self sentiment' as the organizing
force of character, however powerful it may be, can produce
in the character as a whole only the appearance of strength,
which may deceive for a time, but ultimately is almost certain
to reveal the real weakness in a time of crisis1.

1 Social Psychology, pp. 260-61.

CHAPTER X

THE GENERAL 'INSTINCT' TENDENCIES

Of the general instinct tendencies, which McDougall terms —
in our opinion too widely — 'general innate tendencies,' play,
imitation, and sympathy are frequently spoken of as instincts.
If the difference between such tendencies and instincts is
merely the difference between general and specific, which
ultimately appears to reduce itself to a difference of degree,
then there is little to be said in criticism of such a way of speak-
ing. There is, however, a further distinction to be drawn, as
regards the interest or emotional factor involved. When we
contrast imitation with anger or fear, it is evident that the
emotional factor is a pronounced characteristic in the latter
case, but hardly obtrudes itself, even as felt interest, in the
former. Even in this respect the distinction does not seem
an absolute one. For curiosity does not show any very pro-
nounced emotional tone, and the acquisitive tendency still less,
that is to say, under normal conditions. Here too then the
difference appears to be merely one of degree between the
general and specific tendencies.

So much may be conceded, and yet the classification of the
instinct tendencies into general and specific may be none the
less convenient, though the line of demarcation between the
two groups may, on closer examination, prove to be somewhat
arbitrary. All the general tendencies are general, in that their
arousal is not dependent upon a specific object, situation, or
idea, nor even upon a more or less specific kind of object,
situation, or idea, and in that the behaviour to which they lead,
their expression, is as little specific. That they involve an
affective element, an interest, goes without saying, but this

220 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

affective element is not of the nature of emotion, nor does it
show any tendency to develop into a particular and characteristic
emotion in each case. And there is one other distinguishing
mark, which might almost be called decisive. Under normal
conditions the general instinct tendencies do not determine
ends, but rather attach themselves to, and operate in connection
with, ends ultimately determined by the specific emotional
tendencies. There may be some apparent exceptions to this
principle, and particularly in the case of play, but they are
exceptions of the kind which 'prove the rule.'

These general instinct tendencies, like the specific tendencies,
have all been fully discussed and described by various psycho-
logists, notably by Karl Groos, by Baldwin, and by McDougall.
Our purpose here is, as before, to indicate those points which
appear to be of educational interest, rather than to traverse
ground already traversed.

Play. The classical discussion of the play tendency is that
of Karl Groos1, though the theory of the biological function
of play, which is generally associated with his name, can be
traced, as we have already seen, to much earlier writers. Groos
apparently finds no difficulty in treating play as an instinct,
even though he interprets it so widely as to include experi-
mentation, to some extent imitation, and even 'love play' or
courtship. We must remember, however, that Groos regards
instinct from the purely objective point of view, that, in his
opinion, "the idea of consciousness must be rigidly excluded
from any definition of instinct which is to be of practical
utility2."

This wide interpretation of play by Groos tends to obscure
his view as to the psychological nature of play, as does his
biological conception of instinct. Nevertheless, though it looks
like an inconsistency, Groos, unlike many of his successors,
examines the psychological aspect of play very carefully. Ap-
parently McDougall, in criticising the theory of play developed

1 The Play of Animals, and The Play of Man.

2 " Der Begriff des Bewusstseins 1st vielmehr iiberhaupt beiseite zu lassen,
wenn man den Instinkt in brauchbarer Weise definieren will." Die Spiele der
Tiere, p. 57. Trans., p. 62. See also McDougall, op. cit., p. 30, footnote.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 221

by Groos, has forgotten this part of his work1, since he thinks
it necessary, in order to account for play, to modify this theory
" by the recognition of some special differentiation of the instincts
which find expression in playful activity2." Undoubtedly this
would be necessary, if we were to try to account for certain
psychological phenomena of play by any purely biological
theory, and, in that case, a biological interpretation of the
instincts, differentiated or not, would not carry us very far.
But the accusation cannot be justly laid against Groos, that he
has neglected these psychological phenomena, for, as we have
said, he has discussed the psychological nature of play, as well
as its biological function.

Our interest being mainly psychological, our first and chief
question is naturally this one regarding the psychological
nature of play. In what respects are playful activities differ-
entiated from serious activities, play from work? The first
and most easily recognizable psychological mark of play activi-
ties is their ' worthwhileness ' and ' satisf yingness ' in and for
themselves. That is to say, the activities are exercised for
their own sakes, not for the results which may be obtained
through them.

Karl Groos seems to reject the view that this is a mark of
play, but on grounds which are entirely insufficient. "It seems
a very mistaken proceeding," he says, " to characterize play as
aimless activity, carried on simply for its own sake3." This
conclusion is arrived at in view of the fact that the pleasure
afforded by play may be accounted for in other ways, as due
to the satisfaction of the instinct involved, or to the pleasure
of energetic action, simply as exercise, or to the 'joy in success,
in victory,' the satisfaction of that 'striving for supremacy,'
which is instinctive.

Groos quotes in support of his conclusion Souriau, Lange,
and Grosse, but the gist of his argument, including these quo-
tations, is that in play we always have an end to attain, the

1 Die Spiele der Tiere, Chap, v, in English translation.

2 Op. cit., p. 112.

3 Op. cit., Eng. trans., p. 291. In his second edition (1907) Karl Groos
has made several changes at this point, but the main effect of the argument
seems unchanged.

222 The General 'Instinct* Tendencies [CH.

value of which is enhanced by the imagination, that the player
always looks to the results of his efforts, and that a game which
is not competitive fails to interest.

Now we may grant that all this is true, and yet hold that
the play activity, as such, is carried on without any reference
beyond itself. In a game the naive play activity is organized
with reference to an end, and there is satisfaction in attaining
the end, and also, if it is a competitive game, in beating our
opponent, but, even in a game, the activity has a 'worthwhile-
ness' and ' satisf yingness ' of its own, and the end may some-
times be specially created for the sake of that activity. Where
play involves exercise, it is true that the exercise, as such, has
a stimulating effect on the whole organism, and is felt as exhilara-
ting, but this effect can still be distinguished from the enjoyment
of the activity as play, and the distinction becomes clearer,
when we place exercise, which is taken as exercise, it may be
from a due regard to physical health, alongside of exercise which
is involved in play.

The statement that in play we always have an end in view,
and look always to the results of our activity, will not bear
examination, when it is made regarding all play, alike play
unorganized, as in day-dreaming, the random running, jump-
ing, and the like, of young children, what we call friskiness in
many young animals, and play organized in the form of a more
or less definite game. Dewey has recorded an observation
very much to the point here. "In watching a group of six-
year-old children I noticed the following: About half of the
children played the game, i.e., they planned their movements
to get to the goal first. The other half were carried away with
what they were immediately doing ; if the one who was * It ' got
to running away from the goal, he kept on running, in spite of
the fact that others were making for the goal. Their present
activity was so immensely satisfying that it was impossible to
check and guide it by some result to be reached, even such a
simple one as touching the goal first1."

The last sentence gives Dewey's interpretation of the obser-
vation, and it is also ours. We fail to see that any other

1 The School and the Child (edited by Findlay), pp. 75-6.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 223

interpretation of this, and numberless phenomena of the same
kind in children's play, is possible. It might be argued of
course that in all such cases the child is following some instinc-
tive line of behaviour. That may be, but at any rate there is
no conscious end beyond the activity, no looking for results
outside the activity, and that is the essential point which we
wish to emphasize.

We may take it then that the first mark of the play activity,
as distinguished from serious activity, of play as distinguished
from work, is that, in the former case, the activity is pursued
for itself without reference to results, in the latter case it
exists for the results. For Groos this distinction is obscured
by his inclusion of the experimentation tendency under play.

But, since this distinction applies only partially, if even
partially, to organized play or games, it is necessary for us to
seek a further means of psychologically distinguishing play
from the serious occupations of life, or work in a general sense.
This second distinction, upon which Groos lays chief stress, and
which undoubtedly cuts very deep into our whole mental life,
is virtually that between 'belief and 'make-believe1.' We
may put it this way. A game is play organized with reference
to a definite end. The end, as end, has value. But the value
of the play end is a ' make-believe ' value, that is to say, it does
not belong to the systems of ends and values characterizing
real life. In the attitude we call 'belief we are conscious of
a 'real,' to which our actions must adjust themselves. This
means that, in so far as we feel that our actions are conditioned
by a world of reality, over which we have no control, and
which exists independently of us, our attitude is that of ' belief,'
and this attitude of ' belief ' underlies all our serious occupations,
not only as regards the conditions to which we must adjust
ourselves, but also as regards the ends or values which we seek
to attain, as regards the conditions, because they are conditions
imposed by the 'real,' as regards the ends or values, because
they belong to a world of ends and values, also apprehended
as real.

1 See Stout, Analytic Psychology, vol. IT, chap. xi.

224 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

By saying that the end or value sought in a game is a ' make-
believe' end or value, we mean that we are conscious of the
value as depending upon ourselves, and not as forming part of
a real world over which we have no control. We, as it were,
make the world of values and conditions for ourselves, and then
' make-believe,' pretend, that it is real, but remain all the while
conscious, 'at the back of our minds,' that it is only * pretend.'
This is the source of the feeling which Baldwin calls1 the 'don't
have to' feeling.

Why do we 'make-believe' in this way? Either because
the 'make-believe' is itself pleasant or satisfying, because it
is itself a play of the imagination, or because we wish to play,
and make a 'pretend' end in order to play. In either case this
second distinction, however deep it may go, is obviously not
the fundamental and ultimate distinction, but is derived from
the distinction we have already drawn, the distinction which
depends on recognizing play as an activity in and for itself.

This second distinction is not without its psychological
difficulties, and the most serious of these arises from the fact
that in a game more than mere play is involved. In the first
place the choice of end or value is not entirely a choice at
random. Only certain 'pretend' values will have an appeal.
We must recognize, therefore, that the other instinctive ten-
dencies of the human being will necessarily have a share in
determining the ends to be sought in a game, just as they
determine the ends sought in a serious occupation. And, as
we have already seen, some of our human instincts in the de-
veloped civilization of the present day issue mainly in the form
of play. In the second place emulation and rivalry exert a
considerable influence in most games, and introduce, therefore,
another additional factor. The source of this influence must
naturally be sought in the self-feelings, and tendencies, which
we have already discussed. What is the effect of this influence
on a game, as play? It may obviously cause a very consider-
able complication. For this influence will add to the energy
with which the end is sought, and sometimes to such an extent
that the other motives — the other instinctive tendencies

1 The Play of Animals, Editor's Preface.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 225

involved with the play motive itself — are almost entirely sub-
merged, and the play motive entirely. When that takes place,
it is very questionable how far we are still entitled to call the
game play, and we know that, practically, play may be trans-
formed into earnest quite suddenly. Theoretically, however,
the psychological separation between play and earnest can still
be made on the basis of our second distinguishing mark, even
when our first distinguishing mark has practically disappeared,
for earnest will not supervene on play while the mental back-
ground remains that of 'make-believe.'

A third difficulty arises when we consider the professional
player of any game. Does he play, or is he engaged in his serious
occupation or work? As in the case we have just considered,
the answer will depend on his psychological condition at any
moment. In so far as he is conscious while 'playing5 that he
is earning his livelihood, just in so far his mental attitude is
' belief/ and he is working. But if, and so far as, he forgets all
about the world of real things and values — and this must
generally, we believe, be the true psychological state, in the
great majority of cases — and, remembering only the 'pretend'
end of the game, realizes only the pleasure of playing the game,
he is really playing.

This 'make-believe' attitude which characterizes organized
play may be otherwise described as detachment from the world
of real life. Groos works out a very interesting parallelism
between the phenomena of work and play, in this respect, and
the phenomena of alternating, dissociated, or multiple person-
alities1. The 'make-believe' in play is, as he points out, of the
nature of more or less conscious self-deception. The deeper
we become engrossed in the play activity, the more does the
real world recede from consciousness, and also the real self that
acts in the real world. In the extreme case, this detachment of
the world of play from the real world, of the self that plays
from the self that acts in the real world, may take on a patho-
logical character. This or an analogous danger has long been
recognized as one of the dangers of over stimulating or over-
indulging the aesthetic imagination of the child. The danger

1 The Play of Animals, English translation, p. 303.
D. 15

226 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

is present in all play, when carried to excess, and is not confined
to the aesthetic imagination as a form of play. There is one
definite group of the derelicts of life, characterized by the fact
that the play world has usurped for them the place of the real
world, and the play personality has become dominant over the
work personality. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull
boy." All play and no work makes the man, that grows out
of the boy Jack, a hopeless inefficient in the world of the
'real/

Baldwin has indicated another danger, involved in the
'don't have to' feeling, that is characteristic of the 'make-
believe' consciousness1. That is the danger which may arise
from a misinterpretation of the freedom of play, leading to a
confusion of such freedom with moral freedom, not so much
on the part of the child, as on the part of those responsible for
the child's education, as the parent, the teacher, or even the
educational theorist who lays down principles for the guidance
of the parent or teacher.

The sense of freedom involved in play may be said to be of
two different kinds. In the first place, there is the sense of
freedom which arises from the fact that the ends which I value
in play are valuable largely because I make them so, and the
conditions to which I adjust myself in attaining these ends are
the conditions of a self-created world. In the second place,
there is the sense of freedom arising from the consciousness
thaKl can leave off when I want to, that I am under no com-
pulsion to play. The freedom that matters in the game of life
differs essentially from both. The ends and values are not
ends and values because I will them to be such, though I exer-
cise my moral freedom in willing them as ends and values for
me. When I come to a moral crisis in life, it is not open to me
to say "I don't want to play," though the compulsion is an
inner compulsion. That organized games are a valuable moral
influence, cannot be gainsaid, but it must at the same time be
emphatically asserted, that their value in this direction is
strictly limited. A game is a game, the rules of a game after
all are simply rules of a game. But life is real, and the law of life

1 The Play of Animals, Editor's Preface.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 227

a real law. That children should do what they like, when they
like, and how they like, in the interests of their moral freedom,
is, taken by itself, a very dangerous principle.

There is one other point, in connection with the psycho-
logical nature of play, that deserves some little notice. Groos
makes play fundamental in the development of the aesthetic
consciousness. Now aesthetic creation is undeniably a develop-
ment of play activity in many cases. But this is not quite
the same thing as saying that aesthetic appreciation is derived
from the play impulse. A detailed analysis of aesthetic appre-
ciation is quite out of the question here, but certain general
and more or less obvious principles may be indicated, upon
which its explanation would seem to depend. Partly no doubt
aesthetic appreciation depends upon absorption in, and fellow
feeling with an object (what German writers have called
Einfuhlung and Einsfuhlung), but it depends also on pleasure-
pain experiences, which are deeper and more fundamental than
the play impulse. Absorption in, and fellow feeling with an
object depend to some extent on 'make-believe,' and to that
extent on what is undoubtedly the play impulse, but they
depend also on sympathy, on imitation, and on suggestibility.
Hence to derive the aesthetic consciousness entirely or mainly
from play, appears to be quite illegitimately narrowing the
scope of aesthetics, and the appeal of the aesthetic.

When we consider the biological function of play along with
its psychological meaning, we have the key to its educational
significance. The theory of the biological function of play,
which Karl Groos develops, may be called, as Baldwin, suggests,
and as Karl Groos himself calls it, the c exercise theory ' of play.
According to this theory, activities, which are of service in real
life, are developed through play. These activities are of two
kinds, corresponding more or less to the two aspects of play
we have already considered. On the one hand, there are
relatively general activities, involving the development of
motor coordination and control, of sensory experience, and of
general psychical functions. On the other hand, there are
relatively special activities, directed towards the attainment
of special ends instinctively determined, developing at one

15—2

228 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

and the same time a fuller consciousness of these ends, and a
command over the means necessary for attaining them.

The specific instinctive impulse operating through play is
best seen, as far as the human being is concerned, in hunting
games or games of combat. But other general tendencies also
operate through, or with, play, and this is particularly the case
with imitation. Hence, apart from the operation of any special
instinct, we may have the development of domestic games and
social games, which are of the utmost importance in preparing
for the domestic and social activities of adult life.

Experimentation. Very closely associated with the play
tendency, and, in its manifestations, very difficult to distin-
guish from it, is the tendency we have called 'experimentation.'
Groos includes it under play. Several other writers include
some of its manifestations under play, but assume also an
instinctive tendency, which they call * constructiveness ; (e.g.,
McDougall), and some assume even two specific tendencies,
'constructiveness' and 'destructiveness/ while a few writers
recognize all three, experimentation, constructiveness, and
destructiveness, as independent of one another and of play.

There seems no good reason for the unnecessary multiplica-
tion of instinctive tendencies, and experimentation, as a general
tendency, can obviously be made to include both constructive-
ness and destructiveness, at the same time explaining them,
for there is not sufficient evidence to justify us in regarding
them as specific instinct tendencies. On the other hand, if
we include experimentation under play, we thereby lose to a
considerable extent one of our criteria of play. For in play
the activity itself, as we have seen, satisfies, while it is of the
nature of experimentation that the results of the activity
should be the source of satisfaction.

The pleasure of 'being a cause1' does not quite adequately
express or describe the nature of the interest involved in ex-
perimentation. If it did, we might perhaps be justified in
including experimentation under play. The interest is rather

1 The Play of Animals (translation), p. 88.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 229

an interest, not in producing as such, but in what is pro-
duced, and in this aspect the tendency is more or less allied to
curiosity.

In animals as in young children, this tendency is often very
clearly shown. Perhaps the best description of the kind of
actions in which it manifests itself is the description by Miss
Romanes of the behaviour of a cebus monkey1. "To-day he
got hold of a wine-glass and an egg-cup. The glass he dashed
on the floor with all his might, and of course broke it. Finding
however that the egg-cup would not break for being thrown
down, he looked round for some hard substance against which
to dash it. The post of the brass bedstead appearing to be
suitable for the purpose, he raised the egg-cup high over his
head and gave it several hard blows. When it was completely
smashed he was quite satisfied."

Hobhouse has placed on record his opinion that animals learn
more from experimentation than from imitation2. Whether
the same is true of children or not, it is at least certain
that they do learn in this way, and that this tendency plays
a very important part in extending their experience, as well
as in developing motor control. As regards its biological
function, therefore, experimentation may be said to supplement
play, and to cooperate with imitation, in preparing the child,
both generally and specially, for the activities of adult life.

The most interesting point in connection with experimen-
tation, at least from the standpoint of a psychology of education,
has been very little noticed by previous writers. That is its
relation to what may be called the ' work ' tendency, as opposed
to the ' play ' tendency. At a certain stage in the development
of the child, usually somewhere about the seventh year, there
is an important transition from interest in the activity to
interest in the result produced, as an intended result. This
we may call the development of the 'work' tendency, which
differs from experimentation, in that the interest in experi-
mentation is satisfied with whatever result emerges, while in
the case of 'work' the result which emerges is not satisfactory,

1 Romanes, Animal Intelligence, pp. 484-95.

2 Mind in Evolution, p. 204, footnote.

230 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

unless it is the result aimed at, or sufficiently approximating
to that to be taken for it by the child.

Though the 'work' tendency may, therefore, be distin-
guished from instinctive experimentation, it may also be re-
garded as a development from it/ And experimentation
certainly cooperates in rendering results, of little significance
to the child in themselves, sufficiently interesting as results,
and as the results intended, to stimulate long and strenuous
effort.

^Imitation. Like experimentation, imitation has been in-
cluded under play by Karl Groos. There is no doubt that the
three tendencies have a great deal in common. They all
involve activity on the part of the individual, generally, though
not necessarily in the case of play and experimentation, mani-
festing itself in outward action. They also combine and co-
operate in so many and so intricate ways, that it is often
difficult to disentangle the exact share of each in a particular
activity, where all are playing their part.

Imitation, "however, has one characteristic, which, theoreti-
cally at any rate, marks it off unmistakably from the others.
It is a social tendency, dependent on the interaction of at
least two individuals, and, as a social tendency, it is allied to
sympathy and suggestibility, rather than to play and experi-
mentation. Baldwin, indeed, includes sympathy and suggesti-
bility under imitation1. Such procedure is more capable of
defence than that of Karl Groos, for sympathy can easily be
regarded as imitation of feeling or emotion, and suggestibility
as imitation of opinion or belief.

It is most convenient to separate these three social ten-
dencies by restricting imitation to the direct copying of
behaviour. Theoretically the distinction is sufficiently clear.
Practically there is a similar difficulty to that experienced on
the other side, as it were, in separating imitation from play.
Both sympathy and suggestibility may lead to the same kind
of behaviour as would be produced through direct imitation.

1 Mental Development in the Child and in the Mace, and Social and Ethical
Interpretations of Mental Development.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 231

Hence, from the objective side, it may be quite impossible to
say whether any behaviour is due to imitation, to sympathy,
or to suggestibility. The evidence of introspection will, as a
rule, serve to distinguish ; where this is not available, the
distinction must always be more or less hypothetical.

In contrast with those who have endeavoured to explain
much of the apparently instinctive behaviour of animals as
due to learning, largely through imitation, Thorndike would
deny that there is such an instinctive tendency as general
imitativeness, at least as a characteristic of the child1. The
apparent results of such a tendency he would explain as the
result of learning from experience, or an illustration of the
'laws of habit2.' This position, so far as it bears upon the
learning of animals, has been very carefully examined by
Hobhouse3. If it means that animals and young children do
not imitate indiscriminately any and every kind of action,
that their imitative behaviour is not wholly undetermined by
other instinctive factors, we should be inclined to agree. Imita-
tion will certainly depend on ' attentiveness/ and attention will
be determined by some interest. Hence imitation will be of
behaviour which is interesting, and presumably interesting
because of its appeal to specific instinctive tendencies. From
this point of view, Thorndike's contention is simply another
way of expressing the opinion we have expressed, that ends
are determined by the specific tendencies, and that the general
tendencies attach themselves, as it were, to ends already
determined.

But, even when we consider them objectively, the facts do
not warrant Thorndike's conclusion that there is no general
instinctive tendency of imitation. He illustrates his position
at length by considering the case of language, and he apparently
maintains that the child does not learn to speak by imitation,
but merely through a process of trial and error. Surely this
is largely a quarrel about words. We might reply by asking
Thorndike why the child, let it be granted that it cannot at
first make sounds at all like the sounds made by the adult to

1 Educational Psychology, Briefer Course, p. 41.

2 Op. cit., p. 42.' a Mind in Evolution, pp. 142-51.

232 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

be imitated, ultimately learns to do so. If he learns by trial
and error, what is he trying, and what constitutes error? To
explain the whole process as due merely to the original 'atten-
tiveness' of man to the movements of other men, stimulated
by the " original satisfyingness of the approval so often got by
doing what other men do1" is, on the one hand, to ignore
many of the facts, and, on the other hand, to admit something
very like imitation.

To illustrate by the acquiring of oral speech by the child
is itself misleading, for oral speech is a very complex process,
and undoubtedly involves, and must involve, more than purely
instinctive imitation. Some of the writer's own observations
show clearly the variability of children in the acquiring of oral
speech, and also phenomena which are with difficulty, if at
all, reconcilable with Thorndike's statements in regard to the
comparative difficulty of learning one syllable and learning a
two or three-syllable series2. The writer has sat with a child
of two, and flung at him hard words of all kinds from 'hippo-
potamus' and 'rhinoceros' to 'Nebuchadnezzar' and 'Maher-
shalalhashbaz,' getting them returned with absolute accuracy
every time.

Numerous and well-known facts of animal learning3 seem
to prove beyond any doubt the existence of the general ten-
dency of imitation. In the case of the human being, leaving
out of account conscious imitation, which plays a considerable
part in the acquirement of speech, we can only account for the
acquiring of tones, gestures, accent, which are all picked up in
the most amazing way by children, by an imitation which is
instinctive.

In dealing with human behaviour, it is necessary for us to
distinguish somewhat sharply three distinct types of imitation.
These we might call ' perceptual ' or purely instinctive imitation,
'ideational' imitation, and 'rational' or 'deliberate' imitation.
It would be a great mistake to suppose that imitation, as an
instinctive tendency, plays the same kind of part in each case.

1 Briefer Course, p. 45.

2 See Journal of Experimental Pedagogy, vol. in, 1915.

8 See Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, chap. xiv.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 233

In the third case, indeed, imitation, as such, is of relatively
little importance. This is the 'persistent' imitation of Baldwin,
and its characteristic as persistent depends in no way upon the
impulse to imitate, but on the value of the end.

Evidences of purely instinctive or ' perceptual' imitation
are found far down the animal scale. It is of course very
difficult to distinguish such imitation from the imitation of the
second type, but theoretically the distinction is easily enough
drawn. In the case of 'ideational' imitation, we always have
imitation of an action which appeals, because of interest in the
actor, in the action itself, or in the result. We have called it
* ideational,' because this appeal seems generally, if not neces-
sarily, to involve ideational consciousness, and may operate in
the absence of the action or behaviour on which it is modelled,
that is, it is not necessarily imitation at the moment when the
action imitated is perceived. This form of imitation is only
found in the higher animals and man, though Small found fairly
strong evidence of it in rats1.

Imitation has already been so fully discussed by several
writers, that there does not appear to be much new, that can
be said about it. One or two phenomena, however, require
some emphasizing from our present point of view.

In the first place, imitation is one way in which personal
influence acts upon the child, and an important way, if our
various sayings like 'example is better than precept' are to be
believed. In connection with this the question arises: what
factors mainly determine a child's imitation of persons, apart,
that is to say, from an interest in an action itself, or in its result,
otherwise determined ? It is commonly asserted that the child
tends to imitate his superiors, rather than his equals or inferiors.
This statement requires some qualification. As regards purely
instinctive imitation, that appears to be quite independent of
the relationship of inferiority and superiority, and, so far as
personal influence is felt by the child through the medium of this
type of imitation, it will be mainly the influence of those with
whom he associates most. As regards the second and third

1 See Hobhouse. Mind in Evolution, p. 150, footnote, or American Journal of
Psychology, Jan. 1900.

234 The General l Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

types of imitation, it is unquestionable that the child will tend
to imitate his superiors, rather than his inferiors, that ' negative
self -feeling ' will favour imitativeness, but at the same time it
must be remembered that great superiority, the superiority
which causes wonder rather than simple admiration, will so
far inhibit imitation. It appears to follow from this that the
child's behaviour will be modelled rather upon the behaviour
of slightly older and bigger children, than upon the behaviour
of grown-ups, that is, so far as these types of imitation are
concerned.

In the second place, as Baldwin has shown, imitation of all
three types plays a very important part in the development of
the child's experience, and particularly his knowledge of his
social environment and of himself as interacting with his social
environment. The three stages in the development of the
knowledge of other selves, mediated through imitation, have
been called by Baldwin the 'protective,' the 'subjective,' and
the 'ejective' stages1. It is not quite clear that all three stages
are moments of the process of imitation, except of the deliberate
kind. But, at all events, by imitating the acts and movements
of the persons around him, or those acts which specially interest
him, the child gets to know how it feels to do so and so, and his
experience of such actions and movements can be, and is,
utilized to illumine the actions of other people. Thus the child
learns to know himself by means of his social environment,
through his own experience secured partly in imitating his
social environment, and he learns to know his social environ-
ment in terms of his knowledge of 'self.'

In the third place, the development of the child through
imitation is not only development as an experiencer, but, in
the process, his whole being as a dynamic system is organized.
This side of the process has been rather strangely subordinated
by most psychologists, owing to their tendency to dwell upon
the cognitive side. But it is by no means less important.
Through imitation the child learns to attain ends, which are
determined by specific tendencies, but provision for the attain-

1 Social and Ethical Interpretations of Mental Development. Also Stout,
Manual of Psychology, p. 542 (1901 ed.).

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 235

ment of which is not innately organized. This is especially
the case with what Baldwin has called ' persistent,' and we have
called * rational ' or ' deliberate ' imitation. We might, therefore,
say that \imitation plays a considerable part, not only in the
development of self-knowledge, of the 'idea of self,' but also
in the development of self-control, of the dynamic self, under-
standing self-control, as it ought to be understood, in a wide and
positive sense. Self-control has been too often interpreted in
terms of mere inhibition. Real self-control is involved in the
whole development of the child as a 'doer.'

Sympathy. The most satisfactory treatment of sympathy
in modern psychology is probably that of McDougall1. He
at least tries to get a clear and definite conception of what
sympathy is in its primitive form, and then applies this concep-
tion consistently in the interpretation of the complex experi-
ences and dispositions in which sympathy is involved. "The
fundamental and primitive form of sympathy," he says, "is
exactly what the word implies, a suffering with, the experienc-
ing of any feeling or emotion when and because we observe in
other persons the expression of that feeling or emotion2."

The ' sympathetic induction' of emotion is then, according
to McDougall, due to an instinctive tendency, which he else-
where calls ' primitive passive sympathy ' to distinguish it from
'active sympathy.' a manifestation of the gregarious instinct
we have already considered. Sympathy, in the ordinary
popular sense of the word, is a modification of c tender emotion ' *
by the sympathetic experiencing of another's pain or sorrow'
But there is no psychological need for the word in this sense,
and hence we may quite legitimately specialize it for the root
sense of 'feeling with.' It by no means follows of course that
this 'feeling with,' this 'sympathetic induction of emotion'
is due to an original and independent tendency of human
and animal nature. We have already seen in our historical
sketch what differences of opinion may arise regarding this
point, and similar divergence of opinion may be found among
present-day psychologists. Tarde and Baldwin explain 'con-
1 Social Psychology, pp. 90-96, 168-173. 2 Op. cit., p. 92.

236 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

tagion of feeling,' or the sympathetic induction of emotion,
as one of the phenomena of imitation; James speaks of sym-
pathy as an emotion, and Shand apparently takes a similar
view; Spencer and some others have taken the view of Mc-
Dougall, but few have consistently adhered to it; some have
called sympathy an instinct.

This divergence of opinion is not, as a rule, a divergence
with respect to the facts, but rather with respect to the inter-
pretation of the facts. Thorndike, however, appears to deny
many of the facts. Especially he says that we do not have
this sympathetic induction of emotion in two important cases,
'pugnacity — anger' and 'parental instinct — tender, emotion1.'
Now it cannot be denied that one of these, at least, presents
some difficulty, but it is possible to show, that we have, under
appropriate conditions, 'sympathetic induction of emotion,'
'contagion of feeling/ in both.

With anger two results are possible. The anger of A may
provoke anger in B, either against A or against the object of
^4's anger. Thorndike rightly holds that the former cannot
be taken as due to 'sympathetic induction.' If the anger of A
is directed towards B, the perceptual situation for B is one
which rouses instinctive anger against A ; similarly, if the
object of A9 s anger is at the same time the object of B's 'tender
emotion,' or part of his larger 'self; not very different is the
case where B has a sentiment of dislike for A. On the other
hand, where these or analogous conditions are not present,
there can be little doubt that anger is contagious, and especially
so if opposite conditions are present, if, for example, the object
of A9 s anger also threatens or may threaten B, or is the object
of a sentiment of dislike in B, or if A is the object of a sentiment
of affection in B. And under any of these circumstances, the
anger of B may be due directly to 'sympathetic induction/
because it would not have been aroused had it not been for
A's anger. The actor and orator often rely on this 'contagion
of feeling' to produce indignation in an audience, not against
them, but against the object of their indignation. The facts
seem, undeniable, the sole difficulty, in the case of anger, being

1 Briefer Course, pp. 45-6.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 237

the possibility of arousing an opposing, not a sympathetic
anger.

With the ' tender emotion ' the facts seem even more clearly
against Thorndike and in favour of McDougall. As with
imitation, Thorndike bases his argument on complex phenomena,
which seem to support it, but only because they are unanalysed.
Of course a great deal turns on the exact meaning we assign to
'tender emotion,' and, in the human being, it is very difficult
to separate it, as pure emotion, from the sentiment of affection.
But the sentiment of affection, on its emotion side, is to begin
with 'tender emotion,' and nothing is more certain than that
affection begets affection, kindness is reacted to with kindness,
not after reflection upon the benefits received, but as an
immediate response. Ordinarily, too, we explain the affection
of the child for the parent on this basis. It is also undeniable,
that, where there is a sentiment of affection between A and B,
the manifestation of the ' tender emotion ' in A will immediately
evoke the 'tender emotion' in B. Thorndike may hold that
these instances are not relevant, that they are analogous to the
anger of A provoking the anger of B against A. We may even
grant this, and it only makes the phenomena of contagion of
'tender emotion' slightly less numerous, and perhaps less
striking, but leaves quite sufficient incontestible facts to prove
the case against him. Actor and orator rely on being able to
produce 'tender emotion' in an audience, not directed towards
them, but towards the objects of their 'tender emotion/ and to
produce it sympathetically. When your companion puts a
penny into the beggar's hat and you follow his example, it
may be mere imitation, but, if your companion has shown
signs of the 'tender emotion' with his action, in nine cases out
of ten you will imitate the feeling as well as the act.

Thorndike is only concerned to deny the phenomena of
sympathy (and of imitation) as general. He admits particular
cases like "smiling when smiled at, laughing when others
laugh, yelling when others yell, looking at what others observe,
listening when others listen, running with or after people who
are running in the same direction, running from the focus
whence others scatter, jabbering when others jabber, and

238 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

becoming silent as they become silent, crouching when others
crouch, chasing, attacking, and rending what others hunt, and
seizing whatever objects another seizes," but he admits them
as instances of imitating1.

The interpretation of the facts of 'sympathetic induction'
without assuming an instinctive tendency to experience emotion
directly, when we observe its expressive signs, is best represented
by Adam Smith's account of sympathetic phenomena. Sully
has given a somewhat similar account in recent times. The
direct communication of feeling by 'contagion' he does not
deny, but explains through imitation. Gregarious animals
imitate the expressive signs, movements, and sounds, and
through these something of the feeling is communicated2. But
'sympathy proper' depends, he says, upon a "representative
consciousness, sufficiently developed to allow of an apprehension
of another sentient creature as such3." This he follows by
what is practically a restatement of Adam Smith's view. Its
plausibility depends on our failing to recognize that it is not
the imaginative realization of another's situation, which pro-
duces the emotional result, but of that other as experiencing
in such a situation certain emotions. The 'contagion of feeling'
is direct and immediate, dependent upon our apprehension of
the expressive signs of an emotion in another, or our imaginative
realization of another as feeling and expressing the emotion, but
not upon our imaginatively putting ourselves in the other's place.
That may reinforce an emotion, sympathetically originated, or
it may originate an emotion, otherwise not experienced, but it
can never explain the obvious facts of 'contagion of feeling.'

The 'sympathetic induction' of feeling and emotion plays
an exceedingly important part in the development of the child.
There is no reason to doubt that the child interprets directly
in this way the expressive signs of an emotion, whether it is
an emotion he has already himself experienced, or one which
he has never before experienced, "provided it is one which he
is humanly capable of feeling4." In this way the instinctive

1 Briefer Course, p. 47.

2 The Human Mind, vol. n, p. 109.

3 Op. cit., vol. n, p. 110.

4 Mellone and Drummond, Elements of Psychology, p. 246.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 239

impulses and primary emotions of the child may be extended,
independently of his own experience of such objects, to objects
which evoke definite primary emotions in the people around
him. Thus we may have, as we have already seen, all the signs of
an instinctive response, with appropriate emotion, to definite per-
ceptual situations, which, without knowledge of all the circum-
stances, we are quite unable to distinguish from an original
manifestation of the instinct in question.

But these phenomena are not by any means confined to what
we may call the simulation of a purely instinctive response. All
the emotional attitudes of the persons with whom the child
comes frequently in contact may become characteristic also of
him. In this way the sentiments and interests characteristic
of the family circle become the sentiments and interests of the
child. In this way, when he becomes a member of a wider social
circle, or of different social groups, a school, a church, a club,
a profession, the sentiments, characteristic of such social circle or
social group, tend to be adopted, so far at least as the sentiments
of the various groups are not inconsistent with one another.

As between two individuals, there are certain circumstances
which favour, and other circumstances which hinder, the
'sympathetic induction' of feeling and emotion. A sentiment
of friendship favours, a sentiment of antipathy hinders it,
apparently quite generally; a feeling of the superiority of the
inducing source favours, a feeling of the inferiority hinders,
again quite generally. Excessive violence in the manifestation
of some emotions, especially anger, may also hinder, and at
all times an induced emotion may be favoured by the state of
interest or feeling at the time.

As one of the main avenues of personal influence, sympathy,
in the sense of 'primitive passive sympathy,' is of enormous
importance in the education of the child. It is a positive and
direct factor in the development of the child's emotional ex-
perience. Where circumstances are favourable, and especially
where there is a sentiment of affection on the part of the child
for the individual, say the teacher, who is the source of the
influence, 'active sympathy' cooperates strongly with 'primi-
tive passive sympathy' in determining assimilation between

240 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

the sentiments and interests of the child and those of the
teacher. But it must always be recognized that the influence
of 'active sympathy' is primarily negative, that is, in the
direction of control, and only indirectly positive, that is, in the
direction of development.

To limit the operation of sympathy to the child's emotions
and sentiments is to narrow unnecessarily the scope of the
tendency. Wherever a teacher has a real interest in, a real
enthusiasm for, his subject, the children in the class will
normally be inspired with the same interest and enthusiasm.
But it is perhaps in the sphere of the moral sentiments that
sympathy is most important. It is not a matter of great
difficulty to get a child, say of nine or ten, to understand what
honesty, or fairness, or punctuality is, by a process of intellectual
instruction, proceeding in the usual way from the simple to the
complex, from the concrete to the abstract. But\such ideas
may not be in the least degree determinants of conduct; an
idea, as such, has no motive force. The sentiments of love of
honesty, love of fairness, and the like, represent something
more than this, and that something more is the emotional
factor, which gives the idea motive force. This emotional
factor will be conveyed to the child through the ' sympathetic
induction' of the teacher's emotion. The teacher who has no
real love of fairness or honesty cannot inspire the child with
these sentiments, though he may give the child a perfect know-
ledge of what these ideas 'honesty' and 'fairness' mean intel-
lectually. It is also notorious, that emotion, which is merely
pretended, in such cases rarely, if ever, establishes itself through
sympathetic induction in the child, and this would seem to be
further evidence, if that is necessary, of the instinctive character
of the sympathetic tendency.

Suggestibility. McDougall defines suggestion as "a process
of communication resulting in the acceptance with conviction
of the communicated proposition in the absence of logically
adequate grounds for its acceptance1." Accepting in the mean-
time this point of view we should define suggestibility as the

1 Social Psychology, p. 97.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 241

tendency, under certain circumstances, to accept or act upon
the opinions and beliefs of another person, or opinions and beliefs
another person would have us accept and act upon, without
ourselves having adequate logical grounds for accepting them.

The claim of this tendency to be regarded as an instinctive
tendency is rather doubtful. In the first place it seems almost
necessarily to involve the ideational level. In the second place,
even though we waive this objection, the phenomena of sugges-
tion may be explicable as manifestations of other and really
instinctive tendencies, and therefore, even if instinctive, do not
imply an independent instinctive tendency.

A review of the conditions under which suggestibility shows
itself will lead us to suspect that it depends to a very considerable
extent on the attitude involved in * negative self -feeling.' If
we could show that it depends wholly on ' negative self -feeling,'
then we should merely recognize its phenomena as manifesta-
tions of this tendency on the ideational level. These conditions
are of two kinds, subjective and objective, dependent, that is
to say, on the individual who is suggestible, or on the source
from which, or circumstances in which, the suggestion is given.

The chief subjective conditions favouring suggestion are:
(a) youth, (6) inexperience, (c) lack of knowledge of the topic
in connection with which the suggestion is given, (d) low vitality
through fatigue, sickness, or the like, (e) individual disposition
favourable to suggestion, (/) abnormal conditions, artificially
induced, as in hypnotism, or pathological. All these are con-
ditions under which 'negative self -feeling ' would tend to be
evoked. In suggestion, however, the emotion itself does not
appear to be evoked, or evoked only in low intensity, but with
our view of the relation of emotion to instinctive tendency this
objection cannot carry much weight.

The objective conditions fall into three subdivisions, (a)
conditions affecting the source from which the suggestion
comes, (6) conditions affecting the manner in which it is given,
(c) conditions affecting the circumstances under which it is
given. The conditions affecting the source are quite generally
all conditions which give the source authority or prestige.
This authority or prestige may be due to recognized personal

D. 16

242 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

superiority in some or all respects, or it may be merely the
authority of numbers. The conditions affecting the manner
in which a suggestion is given are all conditions which give it
vividness, impressiveness, or authoritativeness, independently
of conditions affecting the source. The conditions affecting
the circumstances are all conditions which tend to create in
the mind of the ' patient' a context into which the suggestion fits.

It is not quite clear how these objective conditions, except
the first group, can evoke the ' negative' self- tendency. We
must therefore give them somewhat closer attention, and the
result may be the throwing of some light also on the operation
of the subjective conditions. Speaking generally, we may say
that suggestion will be favoured, that is, beliefs and opinions
will be accepted, in so far as the rousing, by association or
otherwise, of ideas which would oppose the acceptance of such
beliefs and opinions can be in any way inhibited. As far as
the first group is concerned, this is effected by the prestige of
the source. In the case of the last group, the mental attitude
at the time, or the whole complex, into which the suggested
belief or opinion is incorporated, may be regarded as effecting
the inhibition. In the case of the second group, the idea itself
is made, as it were, to force its way against all opposition.

We have so far been using the kind of language which is
generally used with regard to suggestion, but without any
intention of committing ourselves to the view of suggestion
which such language implies. In the case of the second group
of objective conditions, at least, some explanation seems to be
required, of how an idea, even if unopposed, becomes a belief,
and is acted upon as a belief.

McDougall declines to admit the propriety of speaking
about 'suggestive ideas,' or of 'ideas working suggestively in
the mind,' holding that such expressions imply that "such
ideas and such working have some peculiar potency, a potency
that would seem to be almost of a magical character1." For
him the essential thing is that the idea should occupy con-
sciousness unopposed. If it issues in action we merely have
ideomotor action. Thus, in another connection, we are told

1 Social Psychology, p. 101.

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 243

that, if we have an idea of a bodily movement in the focus of
consciousness, "the movement follows immediately upon the
idea, in virtue of that mysterious connection between them,
of which we know nothing beyond the fact that it obtains1."
Hence the acting upon a suggested idea, if it is an idea of action,
involves for him no additional mystery, and a ' suggestive idea '
is not different from any other idea. Similarly, if the idea is a
belief, which, from the nature of the case, cannot immediately
issue in action, its potency is due merely to the fact that it is
'accepted with conviction,' and it is on the same footing, there-
fore, with the idea accepted with conviction on logical grounds2.

In both cases, McDougall appears to ignore a very real
difficulty, in the latter case the psychological difficulty involved
in the experience of ' conviction,' in the former the psycho-
logical difficulty involved in the issue in action of a mere idea.
Is it certain that movement follows immediately on the idea
of movement, that the phenomena of 'ideomotor action' have
not been misinterpreted by Bain3, James4, Stout5, McDougall,
and others? "An idea which is only an idea, a simple fact
of knowledge, produces nothing and does nothing6."

Thorndike emphatically denies that the idea, as such, acts
itself out, apart, that is to say, from the effect of exercise and
habit7. The effect of habit involves psychological problems,
with which we have no intention of dealing at present, but
there is no evidence that habit is itself the source of underived
motive force, and we should, therefore, regard the motive force
of an idea, derived from habit, as derived by habit from some
previous source. Setting habit aside, then, we find that
Thorndike's view is that "the connection, whereby the idea
of a movement could, in and of itself, produce that movement,...
does not exist8." The opposite view would appear to be equi-
valent to the recognition of an idea as itself a motive force, the
view that "the tendency of an idea to become the reality is a
distinct source of active impulses in the mind9."

1 Social Psychology, p. 242. 2 Op. cit., p. 101.

3 The. Senses and the Intellect, 4th ed., p. 358.

4 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 522. 5 Manual of Psychology, p. 486.

6 Ribot, Psychology of the Emotions, p. 19.

7 Educational Psychology. Briefer Course, chap. vi.

8 Op. cit., p. 83. 9 Bain, op. cit., p. 360.

16—2

244 The General 'Instinct' Tendencies [CH.

This matter is of very considerable psychological importance.
Either ideas, as such, have motive force, or they have no motive
force. If they have motive force, it does seem absurd, as
McDougall holds, to speak of 'suggestive ideas.' If of them-
selves they have no motive force, it is difficult to see why any
absurdity or impropriety is involved. But has any evidence
ever been brought forward to show that ideas, as mere cognition,
have any motive power whatsoever? We should of course
hold that the idea which is mere cognition does not exist, is a
mere psychological abstraction. In order that there should
be an idea at all, there must be 'meaning,' and 'meaning'
always involves more than mere cognition. Here we seem to
have the key to the solution of the difficulty.

Apart from the operation of habit, an idea will have motive
force in proportion to the impulsive force of the affective factor
in its 'meaning,' which implies, that it will have motive force,
dependent upon, and in proportion to, the motive force of the
'interest disposition' it arouses, or the emotional tendency it
evokes. A 'suggestive idea' will therefore be 'suggestive,'
because, and in so far as, the 'interest disposition' it arouses,
or the emotional tendency it evokes, can inhibit or repress any
tendencies, which would counteract its being realized, as action,
or as belief. In our opinion belief itself has its source in the
working out of the instinctive interest of a perceptual situation,
so that it involves no factor essentially different from the factors
involved in the suggestion issuing in action.

Applying these results to suggestibility, and the whole pro-
cess of suggestion, we are forced to conclude that no idea can
be suggested, unless it can be, as it were, linked on to a habit,
'interest disposition,' sentiment, or emotional tendency. When
so linked, it will have the potency for belief, or for action, of the
habit, 'interest disposition,' sentiment, or emotional tendency
in question. This conclusion appears to be confirmed by some
of the most recent work in abnormal psychology, where, if
anywhere, emphasis has always hitherto been laid upon sugges-
tion and suggestibility, to the ignoring of their relation to
feeling. Thus Morton Prince holds that the "linking of an
affect to an idea is one of the foundation stones of the pathology

x] The General 'Instinct' Tendencies 245

of the psycho-neuroses," and of their treatment, that "upon it
'hangs all the law and the prophets'1."

Are we to hold then that there is no independent general
tendency, which can be called suggestibility, least of all an
innate or instinctive tendency, and that all the phenomena of
suggestion can be otherwise explained? It is very difficult to
say. After we have taken full account of ' negative self -feeling,'
and the various habits, 'interest dispositions,' sentiments, and
instincts, which are appealed to in the process of suggestion,
and which determine the suggestibility of an individual, there
may be a remainder that can only be explained by an innate
general tendency. In the present state of our knowledge we
should prefer not to hazard an opinion.

Whatever ultimate view we adopt regarding the psycho-
logical character of suggestion and suggestibility, the educa-
tional importance of the phenomena is not materially affected.
Like sympathy, suggestibility is a condition determining thel
assimilation of the interests and sentiments of the child to
those of the social milieu in which he lives. Sympathy affects \
only the emotional or feeling factors in these interests and \
sentiments. The transmission of the intellectual factors, the
ideas, the opinions, the beliefs, round which the feelings and 1
emotions are associated and developed, is the work of suggestion^ — )
If we consider once more an abstract sentiment like 'love of
fairness,' we shall see more clearly the part suggestion plays.
' Love of fairness ' involves an idea that certain things are ' fair '
and other things ' unfair,' and the opinion or belief that ' fairness '
is right. The belief is both intellectual and emotional, as we
have seen. We may, however, regard the transmission to the
child of this opinion or belief regarding fairness, so far as it is
intellectual, as well as the opinion that certain things are 'fair,'
as the work of suggestion, just as the transmission of the emo-
tional tendencies, which make the sentiment an effective control
of action, is the work of 'primitive passive sympathy.' In the
opinion or belief, that is not properly a sentiment, the work of
suggestion may be practically everything.

1 The Unconscious, p. 449, et passim.

CHAPTER XI

THE 'APPETITE' TENDENCIES

When we come to consider the 'appetite' tendencies, we
are immediately faced with new and difficult problems, the
general nature of which has already been indicated in our
discussion of 'pain sensations.' While we have no intention
at present of entering upon a full and detailed treatment of
these 'appetite' tendencies, there are certain important points,
which require to be brought out and emphasized for the sake
of completeness. At the same time we might suggest, that
no really satisfactory psychological study of the appetites is
hitherto available, and that there is here a department of human
experience which requires and demands careful exploration by,
the psychologist.

First of all let us see how the 'appetite' tendencies are dis-
tinguished from the 'instinct' tendencies, strictly so called,
\ According to Baldwin's Dictionary, the distinction of 'appetite*
j from 'instinct' depends upon the fact, that 'appetite' "shows
f itself at first in connection with the life of the organism, and
does not wait for an external stimulus, but appears and craves
satisfaction." The internal stimulus arises as a "state of vague
unrest, involving, when extreme and when satisfaction is denied,
\ painful sensations of definite quality and location1."

Reid2, and, as we have seen, Dugald Stewart also3, took
as the characteristic marks of 'appetite': (a) that it depends
on states of the body, (6) that it is accompanied by 'uneasy
sensations,' (c) that it is not constant in its operation, but
periodical (Dugald Stewart prefers to say 'occasional'). Bain's

1 Art. "Appetite," signed by Baldwin and Stout.

2 Active Powers (Works, p. 551).

8 Active and Moral Powers of Man, vol. i, p. 6.

CH. xi] The 'Appetite' Tendencies 247

account of ' appetite' is in these terms: "Certain wants of the
system lead to a condition of pain, with the natural urgency
to work for its abatement or removal. The conscious relief
from pain is followed by an accession of positive pleasure,
which provides an additional motive, so long as the increase
continues. The measure of the voluntary prompting is the
measure of the painful and pleasurable feelings involved in the
case1." Finally Sully defines the 'appetites' as "periodic
organically-conditioned cravings2."

All these different accounts are in substantial agreement as
to the facts, that is, that there is an 'uneasiness,' which may
become pain, arising from recurring organic needs, and deter-
mining a 'craving.' Bain very rightly lays stress upon the
fact that the satisfaction of the 'appetite' involves 'positive
pleasure.' Thus we have the three phases of the ' appetite '-
'uneasiness' or pain, 'craving,' positive pleasure in removal of
'uneasiness.' Dugald Stewart emphatically asserts that, in the
case of hunger, and presumably the same kind of statement
would hold of the other 'appetites,' the 'craving' or desire is
not for happiness, that is, the removal of the 'uneasiness' and
the accompanying satisfaction, but for food3. If this is more
than a mere quarrel about words, the psychological analysis
of the pure 'appetite' does not seem to lend the statement
much support. If this difficulty may in the meantime be set
aside, we can, in view of the generally accepted opinions re-
garding the nature of 'appetite,' distinguish the 'appetite'
tendencies as those in which the impulse, as 'craving,' seems
to arise from organic 'uneasiness,' or more generally 'pain,'
the 'instinct' tendencies as those in which the impulse seems
to arise from a presented perceptual situation, determining in-
stinctive interest.

It must be observed, however, that it is possible to consider
many of the specific instinct tendencies of animals as deter-
mined, in a certain sense, by an 'uneasiness.' --For certain
instincts are only evoked under certain conditions of the organ-
ism. These conditions make the original setting, which may

1 The Senses and the Intellect, p. 260. 2 The Human Mind, vol. II, p. 17.
3 Outlines of Moral Philosophy, p. 32. Also op. cit., loc. cit.

248 The 'Appetite' Tendencies [CH.

be represented vaguely in consciousness by what we called in
a previous chapter the 'underlying impulse.' Not all the
instinctive tendencies are conditioned in this way, at any rate
in the human being. Fear and anger, for example, are certainly
not determined by a prior ' uneasiness.' Nevertheless a certain
'setting' of the organism may, and does, predispose to either.

This leads us to consider the relation, if any relation can be
established, between the ' instinct ' tendencies and the ' appetite '
tendencies. Baldwin and Stout point out that the movements
>y which an ' appetite ' is satisfied are mostly reflex and instinc-
tive1. They instance the 'instinct of sucking' to satisfy the
'appetite for food.' This is a very interesting relation, if it
holds as a general relation between the simple and 'pure'
instinct tendencies of the human being and the 'appetites.'
More psychological work is necessary here, but there are at
least strong grounds for the belief that some such relation does
exist in the case of the majority of these simple instincts. Bain
is also apparently awake to this relation, when he finds in it the
germ of volition. "To bring together and make to unite the
sensation of the appeasing of hunger with the acts of sucking,
prehension, masticating, and swallowing, is perhaps the earliest
link of volition established in the animal system2."

But this relation merely serves to bring into relief the
difficulty, to which we have already alluded, of making any
psychological account of the 'appetite' tendencies conform to
the general account we have given of Instinct. That difficulty,
we believe, can only be surmounted by considering the ' appe-
tites' as representing an earlier stage of conscious life, which,
in the human being and the higher animals, is overlaid by the
stage to which the development of the specific 'instinct' ten-
dencies belongs. At the earliest stage of conscious life, the
stage, shall we say, of the amoeba, the taking of food — Jennings'
'food reaction' — would not normally involve any experience of
the kind we have in connection with the hunger 'appetite.'
The reaction of the organism to the ' food situation ' would be of

1 Baldwin's Dictionary, loc. cit.

2 The Senses and the Intellect, p. 263. See also Wundt, Human and Animal
Psychology, lect. xxvi.

xi] The 'Appetite' Tendencies 249

the general nature of 'instinct' behaviour, perception of object,
interest in object, specific response to object, all of course pre-
senting a more or less rudimentary aspect, in keeping with the
rudimentary conscious life. So far as 'uneasiness' or 'pain'
was developed, it would be developed as ' tension,' and would be,
therefore, of the nature of 'emotion,' corresponding to this
earliest stage of conscious life, the resulting behaviour being of
the kind, which Jennings has described as characterizing such
organisms, when the usual responses fail of ' success,' and danger
to the life of the organism is imminent1. If, then, we may take
this view, we can regard the ' appetite ' tendencies in the human
being and the higher animals, as representing the 'instinct'
tendencies of a more primitive conscious life, in the condition
of 'tension' owing to a submerging of primitive cognition, and
therefore involving also the emotions of this lowest stratum
of consciousness. The theoretical difficulty would disappear
with the disappearance of the gap between 'instinct' and
'appetite.'

The specific 'appetite' tendencies are specific in very much
the same way as the specific 'instinct' tendencies. Their
enumeration is not free from difficulty, but practically all
psychologists are agreed as to hunger, thirst, and sex ' appetites,'
while the 'appetite' for sleep or rest (either one or two ten-
dencies), and the 'appetite' for exercise or activity have been
added by several2. We have added 'nausea' or 'primitive
disgust,' and, if James is right as regards the innateness of what
he calls the 'instinct of personal isolation3,' that also might
apparently claim inclusion.

We do not intend to discuss in detail these specific ' appetite '
tendencies, but, at the same time, it would seem necessary that
we explain why we classify 'disgust' here, especially since it
would not come under ' appetite ' in the ordinary sense, and since
McDougall and others have classified it among the specific
'instinct' tendencies. The principle we have applied in the
classification is the principle we have just enunciated. When,

1 The Behaviour of Lower Organisms, " Trial and Error. ' ' See also Washburn,
The Animal Mind, chap. m.

2 E.g., Reid, Works, p. 553.

8 Principles of Psychology, vol. n, p. 437.

250 The 'Appetite' Tendencies [CH.

and so far as, specific impulse is determined by logically prior
specific 'uneasiness,' disagreeableness, or pain, we have to do
with an ' appetite,' not with an ' instinct,' and it does not matter
whether the impulse is 'to '-wards or ' from '-wards.

The best recent discussion of 'disgust' is that of Shand1.
He distinguishes two types of primitive ' disgust ' : (a) the more
familiar type, where the stimulus seems to be due to taste or
smell sensations, determining nausea, and (6) the 'disgust'
aroused by the touch of clammy or slimy objects, such as snails,
worms, and the like. He also notices a third type, which may
not be primitive, and which shows itself in the pushing away,
or turning the eyes and head away from, an object which is
merely perceived visually, and which is not in contact with
the body. We are not convinced that there is sufficient evi-
dence to justify our considering even the second type as primi-
tive, while some of the phenomena ascribed to it, and to the
third type, may be accounted for by James's ' instinct of personal
isolation.' In any case the first type is simple and primitive,
and it is this type that our classification includes.

Our reason, then, for classifying this 'disgust,' which is
undoubtedly primitive, and which, we believe, underlies all
other forms, with the 'appetites,' although it is perhaps more
properly an 'aversion,' is that the phenomena, characteristic
of its manifestation, conform to our description of the 'appetite'
tendencies, rather than the 'instinct' tendencies. The impulse
is determined primarily, not by perception of an object or
situation, but by a specific kind of disagreeableness or 'uneasi-
ness ' in sensation, which, on being experienced, may determine
perception of an object or situation as 'disgusting,' but is,
logically at least, prior to such perception.

It must be confessed that this classification of 'disgust' is
not without its difficulties. Setting aside the difficulty that
'disgust' differs from most other 'appetites' in the absence of
that pleasure in gratification, which is a general characteristic,
and the 'craving' which it determines, on the plea that we
cannot expect the same kind of pleasure, or the same kind of
'craving,' in the case of an 'aversion,' which may yet be truly

1 Foundations of Character, book n, chap. xiv.

xi] The 'Appetite' Tendencies 251

an 'appetite' in the technical sense, we are faced with the
further difficulty that a primary emotion, or something very
similar to a primary emotion, is evoked in connection with this
tendency, just as in connection with the specific emotional
'instinct' tendencies, and that it also, like them, enters into the
formation of complex emotions and sentiments. It might even
be objected that 'disgust' shows none of the periodicity charac-
teristic of other specific 'appetite' tendencies, but such an
objection can only carry weight if we limit very rigidly the
'appetite' tendencies to three or four.

In the light of these difficulties, it must be acknowledged
that a strong case can be made for including 'disgust' among
the 'instinct' tendencies, and that no serious exception can
be taken to classifying it in this way. At the same time, if
' appetites ' are marked off from ' instincts ' by the characteristic
we have selected, and we believe this to be the most fundamental
distinction that can be drawn, 'disgust' must be placed where
we have placed it. We noticed an analogous difficulty on the
other side in discussing the gregarious instinct. Such difficulties
are a further indication of the need for regarding 'appetites'
and 'instincts' as, in a sense, continuous with one another.

In virtue of the 'craving' characteristic of, and developed
in connection with, so many of the 'appetites,' which might
almost have been taken as the ' appetite ' mark, these tendencies
seem to bear somewhat the same relation to 'desire,' as the
'instinct' tendencies bear to 'sentiment.' From this point of
view the simplest form of 'desire' is an 'appetite' tendency
associated with the idea of an object. By the older psycho-
logists the term ' desire ' was used in a very general and indefinite
sense ; even now its meaning is not at all clearly defined. We
believe it would be well, in the interests of a scientific termin-
ology, to restrict the application of the term to the ideational
level. This would save us from the very serious confusion of
'desire' with 'purpose' or 'aim.' It is true that an 'end' may
be 'desired,' but, as 'end,' it is 'purposed.' 'Desire,' as such,
does not seem to imply the rational level at all ; purpose, aim,
end, ideal, do. This usage would also prevent the tendency
to confuse the 'object desired' with the source of the impelling

252 The 'Appetite' Tendencies [CH.

force of the desire. To say that the 'object desired' is not the
real 'object of desire' no longer appears paradoxical when we
restrict * desire ' in the way suggested, for it is obvious that the
real object of 'desire,' in this restricted sense, is always some
pleasure, or the satisfaction of relief from some 'uneasiness'
or pain, or, we might say, is in an experience, not in the attain-
ment of an end, as such.

Some of the most important ethical controversies of modern
times appear to be due to the fact, that one set of thinkers
have based their account of motives on 'desire/ the other on
'purpose,' one on 'appetite,' the other on 'instinct.' It is
evident that both kinds of motive force must be recognized,
and apparently both are psychologically ultimate in the human
being. Though 'purpose' may always involve 'desire,' they
are psychologically distinct, and 'desire' is closely related to,
and of the type of, 'appetite.'

Still another point is worth noting. In addition to the two
classes of emotion, which McDougall recognizes, the 'emotions
of instinct' and the 'emotions of sentiment,' Shand recognizes
a third class, the 'emotions of desire1.' In this Shand appears
to be right. The emotions, hope, despondency, despair, differ
from the emotions belonging to either of the other classes, and
they differ in respect of a prospective reference, which is the
prospective reference of 'desire.' The older psychologists
classified ' desire ' itself as an emotion, but it is rather the general
characteristic of a group of 'appetitive' and emotional ten-
dencies.

The mention of 'desire' leads us to the consideration of the
general 'appetite' tendencies. Of these there are two, the
tendency to seek pleasure, and the tendency to avoid pain.
These tendencies manifest themselves in connection with the
specific 'appetite' tendencies, but they also manifest themselves
independently. Their primary 'appetite' form is best seen in
the sense 'feelings,' or rather the impulses arising from them,
which, as Stout has very forcibly pointed out2, are always

1 Foundations of Character, book in.

2 Manual of Psychology, book n, chap, vm (2nd ed ). Also Analytic
Psychology, vol. n, chap. xn.

xi] The 'Appetite' Tendencies 253

involved in the feelings. That is, as original 'appetites/ the
one tendency is the tendency to seek or to maintain sense
pleasure, the other the tendency to avoid or escape from
sense pain.

On the lowest level, what we may call the 'appetite' level
itself, the importance of these general tendencies depends on
the fact that they determine the formation of acquired 'appe-
tites' on the sense level, which may play a very great part in_
the life of an individual. We speak of the 'smoking habit,' the
' drinking habit,' the ' drug habit,' though the important factor
is not the 'habit,' but the 'appetite,' which has been acquired.
It may be maintained that habit itself can give rise to an
acquired 'appetite.' That is probably true, but, in the ac-
quired habits we have named, and in others of the same type,
more is involved than what we may call the ' appetite of habit '
or of 'routine1.'

The most usual acquired 'appetites' are developed in close
dependence upon the pleasures, associated with the satisfaction,^
of natural 'appetites,' and normally manifest themselves as
'cravings' for these pleasures. Probably in most cases organic
changes are also produced, which cause recurring organic condi-
tions, determining the acquired 'appetites' in the same way as
naturally recurring organic conditions determine most of the
natural 'appetites.'

Very important facts come into view when we consider the
interaction of these general 'appetite' tendencies with the
'instinct' tendencies, or tendencies derived therefrom. It is
neither true to say that "directly or indirectly, the instincts
are the prime movers of all human activity," that "the instinc-
tive impulses supply the driving power, by which all mental
activities are sustained2," if we use 'instinct' in anything but
the widest sense, nor is it true to say that "the effort to hold
fast pleasure, or to regain it, and to avoid pain, are the only
springs of all practical activity3." The truth is that, in the
human being, both sets of forces are ultimate motive forces,

1 Cf . Bain, The Senses and the Intellect, p. 264.

2 McDougall, Social Psychology, p. 44.

8 Lotze, Microcosmus (trans. Hamilton and Jones), i, p. 688.

254 The 'Appetite' Tendencies [CH.

and a knowledge of the phenomena and laws of their interaction
is of the utmost importance.

The simplest case of interaction, and the most frequent, is
the operation of what has been called the ' general law of selec-
tion in mental life.' Any activity, instinctive or otherwise,
which constantly leads to disagreeable or painful results, tends
to be discontinued; any activity, which leads to satisfaction,
or involves agreeable results, tends to be continued and strength-
ened. In this way modification of instinctive behaviour be-
comes possible through and by means of the general 'appetite'
tendencies.

But the satisfaction, which attends the successful operation
of an instinct, as pleasant, may itself become the object of
'desire.' In this case an acquired 'appetite' on the ideational
level can be formed in connection with instinctive activity.
Normally the function of this pleasure is to "contribute to the
practical efficiency" of the instinctive impulse, or of the end
which it determines on the rational level1, that is, to act as a
reinforcing motive. So long as ' worth whileness ' passes into
' satisf yingness ' in the ordinary way, through the effort to
attain the end, the accompanying pleasure is fulfilling its proper
function. Where the acquired 'appetite' generally arises is
where the mere excitation of the feeling or emotion becomes
the object of 'desire.' The sentimentalist, who revels in the
mere emotional experience, as such, is a case in point. The
normal function of emotion, like the normal function of pleasure,
is to reinforce effort for an end. In the case of the sentimen-
talist, the emotion itself becomes the end, or rather the object of
'desire,' the effort, which it ought to stimulate, being aborted
or absent.

The formation of these acquired ' appetites ' is educationally
very significant on account of their bearing upon the 'doctrine
of interest.' We may consider acquired 'appetites' of the two
nds mentioned, as well as 'desire,' as representing what
might bewailed 'interest dispositions of the appetite order.'
Interest-experience, as 'worth whileness,' is associated with the

1 Dewey, "Interest in relation to the Training of the Will," in Educational
Essays, ed. by Findlay, p. 108.

xi] The 'Appetite' Tendencies 255

'appetite' tendencies, as with the 'instinct' tendencies. But
the interest disposition, built up on the model of the ' appetite,'
if we may so speak, is very different from the interest disposi-
tion, built up on the model of the 'instinct.'

Though the commonest form of 'interest dispositions of the
appetite order' is probably that developed in connection with
specific 'appetite' tendencies, or with its basis in the pleasures
of sense generally, nevertheless the interest disposition with
its basis in the pleasures of emotional excitement, or analogous
pleasures, is by no means rare. Apparently the excitement of
any of the primary emotions is capable, under certain conditions,
of affording pleasure, and the sentimentalist can therefore revel
in all sorts of emotional satisfaction, though the 'interest dis-
positions of the appetite order,' belonging to this class, develop
specially in connection with particular instinctive tendencies,
as, for example, the 'positive' self -tendency, or the gregarious
instinct.

All such dispositions represent an altogether lower plane
of mental development, as compared with the 'interest dis-
positions of the instinct order.' The one kind of interest
disposition involves the tendency to attach value to the agree-
ableness of an experience, and the stronger such a tendency, the
more does the mere pleasurableness of the experience come to
dominate the ends sought by the individual; the other in-
volves the tendency to attach value to objects, and to the
activities possible with regard to such objects. Consequently
the one tends to narrow the whole outlook, the other to widen
it in proportion as the idea of the interesting object or activity
can enter into relation with the ideas of other objects or
activities. The difference is not only that the one seldom
rises above the level of ' desire,' while the other rises to the level
of 'purpose,' but rather that the one tends to general retro-
gression and intellectual degeneration, the other to progress
and more complete organization and power.

An example from the school may make this clearer. The
teacher who always tries to make school work interesting by
effort, on his part, to attract the pupils to attend by means of
story, illustration, picture, and, in short, all the tricks of the

256 The l Appetite' Tendencies [CH. xi

'show lesson,' not merely develops mental 'flabbiness' in these
pupils, but also develops the 'appetite' for such lessons. Let
us say the subject is geography. There is developed in the class
an 'interest in geography,' but it is an 'interest disposition of
the appetite order.' It fastens upon the pleasant, amusing,
and enjoyable parts of the lesson, is impatient of everything
not coming under these categories, and ends in a 'craving'
for mere amusement, which becomes more and more fastidious
and difficult to satisfy, and which is accompanied, on the intel-
lectual side, by a greater and greater tendency towards passivity
in the mere enjoyment of the experiences.

The use of other forms of 'indirect' interest in school may
produce analogous results. Where prizes and rewards are
abused, an acquired ' appetite ' of a simple kind may be estab-
lished. Where emulation is abused, the ' desire of praise ' may
develop as 'appetite.' The instance we have given shows the
development of a disposition, more complex, possibly rarer than,
but at least as dangerous as, those developed in either of these
ways.

Of course we do not require to go to the school-room for
examples of such phenomena. The 'craving' for amusement is
a growing evil of our times ; and the ' craving ' for amusement
has precisely the same source, and the same natural history,
as the 'interest in geography' we have just mentioned. The
picture house of the present day caters almost solely for ' interest
dispositions of the appetite order.' It also develops them with
enormous rapidity, and often with enormous destructiveness,
where there are no counteracting influences.

APPENDIX I

MEANING AS AFFECTIVE

The view that * Meaning ' is originally and primarily affective
appears to demand some further elucidation and possibly
justification. It goes without saying that, if we restrict the
signification of the word 'Meaning' in such a way as to connote
only cognitive elements in experience, to assert that primary
Meaning is affective is simply to talk nonsense. It is almost
equally clear that, if Meaning at any stage in its development
is cognitive, and cognitive only, then it must at all stages of
its development be cognitive at least in part, but then also
there seems to be no room for it at all in the earliest and most
rudimentary perceptual experience.

In connection with this problem there are two considerations
neither of which must be lost sight of. The first is that the
problem is a psychological one, and that, therefore, whatever
signification we attach to any term must be a psychological
signification, if the term is employed to denote a psychological
phenomenon. This is the same point we have had to emphasize
in connection with the biological sense of the word * instinct.'
In the present case the danger of confusion of thought arises
from the side of logic. The other consideration is that pure
cognition is psychologically unintelligible, and that, therefore,
Meaning, psychologically regarded, can never be cognitive only,
even in its developed form as secondary Meaning. If there is
any hesitation or doubt about accepting this conclusion, the
doubt will probably be dissipated by the careful examination
of a concrete case. I am going, let us say, a boating expedition,
and immediately after breakfast glance at the barometer, which
is falling rapidly. My immediate cognition is of a column of
mercury in a certain position — we may start at this point,
though obviously the analysis might begin still farther back —

D. 17

258 Meaning as Affective [APP.

and this apprehended situation has for me Meaning, both
primary and secondary probably, but we are only concerned
in the meantime with the secondary. The Meaning may be
expressed as 'bad weather coming.' There may or may not
be concrete imagery, but the imagery, if it is present, is not the
Meaning. Nor is the Meaning a mere conceptual synthesis,
eviscerated of everything concrete and particular. Such is
perhaps the logical, but not the psychological Meaning. It is
concrete and particular by its relation not only to my present
cognition, but also — and this is the more important fact — by
its relation to my present interest, and it would still be concrete
and particular, in the same way and for the same reason, if
my interest were to formulate the conceptual principle that a
falling barometer portends worse weather.

From this second consideration, then, it follows that there
is always an affective element in psychological Meaning. Our
contention is that this element is the primary and original
factor without which Meaning, as such, could never arise, and
which actually, if we may put it in that way, converts the bare
sensation into experience.

Let us go back to primary Meaning. Take the apprehension
in perceptual experience, and for the first time, of a particular
object or situation which determines an instinctive reaction.
On the bare cognition side we have certain sense impressions,
arising from the qualification of the experience by the nature
of the object acting through the sense organs. At best — that
is with the minimum of Meaning conceivable — the object
would be apprehended as a 'that.' As a matter of fact there
is always a certain 'whatness' about the apprehension of any
object or situation, however unfamiliar and new. It is this
element of 'whatness' we should call Meaning in this case.
This 'whatness' appears to be determined by the relation of
the object to the instinctive impulse and interest. That is to
say, in the case of an apprehended situation or object, with
reference to which an animal behaves instinctively, the 'what-
ness' in the experience can only be described as affective.

The position will perhaps become clearer, if we consider
the matter from the point of view of 'Appetite' rather than

i] Meaning as Affective 259

'Instinct.' A certain object is apprehended for the first time.
It is not an object the apprehension of which determines any
specific behaviour prior to individual experience. With the
first apprehension of the object, however, the experience is, let
us say, markedly disagreeable or unpleasant. Assuming that
the experience, apart from this affective element, is a bare
'thatness' — it is doubtful whether it can ever be so in reality
for reasons which, however, do not seem to affect our argument
— it appears obvious that it is the affective element which gives
the experience its primary ' whatness.'

The same conclusion will be arrived at by following another
line of thought. The Meaning of a situation is what determines
our attitude — that is, in the simplest case, motor attitude —
towards that situation. Primarily, and independently of the
Meaning which is significance, this can only be the relation of
the situation to us, as determined for us in affective experience.
To use a term employed by Driesch1, Meaning is the 'regulating'
factor in perceptual experience, and it is the ' regulating ' factor
just because it is affective in the first instance.

Moreover, in living experience, or from the psychological
point of view, Meaning, even in its secondary form as signifi-
cance, is, as we have seen, never purely cognitive. The whole
process of 'acquirement of meaning,' and acquirement of
significance, as described by Stout, depends upon continuity of
conative process, but it is impossible to conceive of cognition
being influenced in any way by conation except in and through
affective experience. Just as the psychologist, for purposes of
analysis, may concentrate attention on the cognitive aspect of
experience in isolation from the whole to which it belongs, so
he may similarly abstract the cognitive aspect of Meaning, as
significance, and for the time concentrate attention on the
Meaning of logic. Nevertheless he must always be carefully on
his guard against the temptation to take this partial aspect for
the whole. Otherwise he will, as many psychologists have
done, create for himself insoluble difficulties, when he under-
takes the task of explaining the origin and development of
Meaning as we find it in concrete experience.

1 The Science and Philosophy of the Organism, vol. n, p. 45 et passim.

17—2

260 Driesch's Physiological Criteria of [APP.

APPENDIX II

DRIESCH'S PHYSIOLOGICAL CRITERIA OF
REFLEX ACTIVITY, INSTINCT, AND 'ACTION'

It is desirable that some notice should be taken of a view
and interpretation of Instinct recently submitted by Driesch
(The Science and Philosophy of the Organsim — Aberdeen Gifford
Lectures for 1907-8), more particularly because he indicates
a physiological conception of Instinct, which would apparently
satisfy the biologist, and which has considerable interest for
the psychologist.

Little contribution had been made by physiologists to our
conception and knowledge of Instinct, apart from the con-
tributions already noticed, until comparatively recent times.
The new movement in physiology — and in biology — of which
the view of Driesch is the outcome, began, according to Driesch's
account, with Loeb, who, accepting for physiology the position
that Instinct is a compound or chain reflex, treated Instinct
physiologically from this point of view. Driesch argues that
Loeb has assumed as a fact what is really a problem for
physiology, and his own contribution is in the attempted
physiological solution of this problem.

It must be premised that both Loeb and Driesch when
discussing Instinct confine their attention to instinctive be-
haviour. Driesch again and again asserts that science is
concerned only with 'bodies in motion.' But, by considering
the behaviour with reference to the stimulus which evokes it,
both may be said to cover the whole field of Instinct, so far as
it can be covered by the physiologist.

Driesch classifies organic movements into 'single motor
acts' and 'coordinated motions.' The elemental 'single motor
act' is the 'motion at random1,' that is "an indefinitely variable
motor effect following some sort of stimulus, and having no
specific relation to the locality of the latter." Of such original
organic movements, there are, he says, two kinds requiring to
1 The Science and Philosophy of the Organism, vol. n, p. 20.

n] Reflex Activity, Instinct, and 'Action' 261

be distinguished from one another : those which show an abso-
lute, and those which show a relative, contingency, that is,
those in which any stimulus may be followed by " every possible
movement, in every geometrically possible direction out of a
strictly indefinite number of possibilities," and those in which
possible movements are restricted by a definite 'action system.'

The 'coordinated motions' include 'chain reflexes,' Instinct,
and 'action.' In distinguishing between these Driesch suggests
that the ' chain reflex ' is stimulated by the simple and elemental
agents in nature, instincts by specific objects, 'individualized
stimuli,' while in 'action' there is determination both by
'individualised stimuli' and by experience. He further sug-
gests, though this part of his theory is not developed, that we
must assume some kind of innate 'knowledge' in the case of
Instinct, to account for the operation of the 'individualised
stimuli.' It is necessary to give his own words. If we allow
ourselves, he says, "the use of the common pseudo-psychological
terminology, we may say that all cases in which individualised
stimuli were at work would require the assumption of a some-
thing that would be nearly related to the ' innate ideas ' refuted
by Locke in another sense. Physiologists of the old school of
the German ' Naturphilosophie ' often have spoken of a sort of
dreaming as being the foundation of instinctive life. It would
be this sort of dreaming that we should meet here, and the only
difference between the old investigators and ourselves would
be one of terminology : we should not speak of dreaming or of
innate ideas, but, as naturalists arguing from the standpoint
of critical idealism, we should say that an autonomic, an
entelechian natural factor was found to be at work in instinctive
life, as far as the reception of stimuli is concerned1."

The view of 'action' appears to be really fundamental.
Trying to avoid the psychological implications of 'experience,'
Driesch suggests the alternative expression 'historical basis.'
'Acting' is then "correspondence between individualised stimuli
and individualised effects occurring on a basis of reaction that
has been created historically from without2." To the acting
something — which cannot be a machine — Driesch applies the

i pp. 44_5. 2 p< go.

262 Driesch's Physiological Criteria of [APP.

term 'psychoid,' thus avoiding once more the use of psycho-
logical terms like 'mind/ 'soul,' or 'psyche.' Moreover he
also affirms that, though the 'psychoid' may also be the 'basis
of instinctive phenomena1,' in that case we should have to
distinguish between the two 'psychoids,' the instinctive ' psy-
choid' characterized by the absence of 'experience2,' and the
'action' 'psychoid' characterized by its presence.

To summarize Driesch's views. He distinguishes 'action'
from Instinct by the presence of learning in the former and its
absence in the latter, for that is what the distinction really
amounts to, and he distinguishes Instinct from reflex activity
by the 'specificity' of the stimulus in the former and its
generality in the latter.

Before criticising this definition of Instinct from the psycho-
logical point of view, let us turn to what Driesch has to say
regarding learning, the ' historical basis ' of ' acting.' His schema
for rudimentary 'experience' is simple enough. The 'elemental
fact' is the recognition of 'sameness' in an impression to an
impression that has gone before. This is one of the two
* immediate functions' of the 'historical basis.' The other is
'association by contiguity.' The fact corresponding to this
second function is that "any sensation is not only regarded as
the 'same' or 'different,' but that it also awakens the remem-
brance of other sensations of the past, which were connected
with it in time or space upon a former occasion3."

Psychological criticism of this is easy. Recognition of
'sameness' and 'association by contiguity' are in no sense
elemental, save as modes of explicit remembering. Both
depend upon more fundamental psychological functions, with-
out the clear recognition of which the processes are unintelligible
and the terms psychologically meaningless. Driesch's reply
would probably be that he is not speaking psychologically
except for illustrative and descriptive purposes. Hence the
psychological criticism appears to miss the mark. Neverthe-
less it suggests the real line of attack on Driesch's position, and
such an answer would merely reinforce the suggestion. The

1 p. 83. 2 p. 83. 3 p. 97.

n] Reflex Activity, Instinct, and 'Action* 263

suggestion is that the physiological account both of * acting'
and of Instinct is necessarily imperfect and incomplete.

Driesch himself is quite aware of this imperfection and
incompleteness, and his full discussion of learning is explicitly
in psychological terms, though even in this case it is doubtful
how far we may take the discussion as really psychological.
In fact it is not very clear what Driesch really understands
by psychology. He speaks of * psychology' and of 'pseudo-
psychology.' Sometimes the latter opprobrious term is ap-
parently directed against spiritualism and allied developments,
but it is impossible to be certain that it is not sometimes
directed also against a quite legitimate and scientific psy-
chology.

In any case his psychological description of learning runs
somewhat in this way. In order that there may be learning
on any considerable scale the power of 'abstraction' must be
present, that is to say, the capacity of resolving the sense
datum into its elements, and recombining these elements
freely (Stout's 'conceptual analysis and synthesis'). The main
difference between the learning of man and the learning of
animals is due to the operation of this factor1. Learning on
the lower level depends largely on 'association by contiguity'
of unanalysed wholes. The simplest type of learning or
remembering is the mere recognition of 'sameness,' but of this
by itself we can have no objective evidence in the behaviour
of the organism. 'Association by contiguity' is really a second,
and higher, stage of remembering. Even this, by itself, though
concerned in 'acting' is not 'acting,' and perhaps should not
be called 'experience.' 'Association by contiguity' only be-
comes 'experience,' and becomes 'acting,' when one of the
associated elements is "able to call forth liking or to overcome
disliking." Such experience is the origin of volition and the
basis of ' acting ' at the lowest level.

Random movements, "called forth by unknown general
causes from without and within," are the starting-point of
'acting.' The effect of each movement may be noted and

1 pp. 107-9.

264 Driesch's Physiological Criteria of [APP.

may determine pleasure or pain. Hence arises desire for
certain effects, and desire to avoid other effects. Effects of
movements, ( liking ' or ' disliking ' of these effects, sensations of
movement, and stimulations to movement all enter together
into the 'historical basis.' We have two cases or types of
* acting.' On the one hand there is acting which starts from
chance, and is of the kind we call 'trying.' In this the object
is to gain a 'liked' or avoid a 'disliked' experience. On the
other hand there is learning by experience that "a simple
secondary phenomenon always accompanies the primary one
which is the proper motor stimulus of your acting," and then
"in response to that secondary or indicating phenomenon"
performing the action which originally followed the primary
stimulus. The example Driesch gives of this second type of
learning is learning to identify different tramway lines by
different colours1.

In the one case, therefore, a stimulus a (' disliked,' say) may
call forth in succession reactions A, B, C9 A and B failing to
abolish the 'disliked' factor, and C proving successful. Then,
on a subsequent occasion, the stimulus a calls forth the reaction
C at once. This is typical learning by 'trial and error.' In the
other case a reaction ('liked,' say) is called forth at first by
stimulus a with which b is always associated, and later by
stimulus b alone. Both these cases offer examples of the
' historical basis.' " In the first it is not only the former stimuli,
but former effects also, that are responsible for the specificity
of the reaction ; in the second it is former stimuli only2."

The psychological defects of this description of the process
of learning from experience in its most rudimentary form are
very obvious, and have already been indicated in our criticism
of Lloyd Morgan's views. But accepting the description as
accurate we find the greatest difficulty in understanding why,
and on what evidence, Driesch refuses to recognize such learning
as a characteristic of Instinct. There is ample evidence that
many familiar and commonly recognized instincts are within
varying limits modifiable, change their 'specificity,' as a result

1 pp. 62-4. 2 pp. 110-3.

n] Reflex Activity, Instinct, and 'Action' 265

of experience. In such cases the behaviour would apparently
according to Driesch's schema cease to be instinctive, and
would become 'acting,' since it would depend for its 'specificity'
partly on an 'historical basis.' Surely this would leave a very
narrow field for the operation of Instinct.

Moreover, in the human being at least, all acting does not
originate in random movements which have led to 'liked' or
'disliked' experiences, as Driesch seems to assert. This is
simply Hobbism and has been refuted time and again. In
human behaviour we must take account of 'acting,' and very
important kinds of 'acting,' originating in impulses which are
prior to, and determine, ' liking ' and ' disliking ' of reactions and
results. And the facts of instinctive behaviour would seem to
indicate that the same kind of thing is found, though not on
the same scale, in animal life.

On the other hand, the suggestion that 'specificity' of
stimulus distinguishes the instinct from the reflex is a very
interesting one. But 'specificity' is relative as regards aspects,
dependent upon discriminating power, and dependent upon
precedent and concomitant stimuli and organic conditions.
The reflex itself may depend upon the 'specificity1 of the
place to which the stimulus from a simple and elemental
power of nature is applied, and on the 'specificity' of organic
conditions when it is applied. Moreover, at the other extreme,
the ' specificity ' of reaction seems to tend towards disappearance
with the development of general conceptions and a knowledge
of general laws in the case of the human being. Hence, though
the physiologist may perhaps reasonably look for interesting
and valuable results from investigations along the lines sug-
gested by Driesch, his criterion is necessarily suspect from the
very outset.

The simple truth appears to be that, as far as our present
knowledge will enable us to judge, physiology can never give
us an adequate account either of Instinct or of ' acting,' and, so
long as we confine our view to the objective study of 'motions
of animals,' and the stimuli which produce these motions, we
shall give a very incomplete, and in all probability very mis-
leading account of the behaviour of organisms, even when these

266 Driesch's Physiological Criteria [APR II

organisms are fairly far down the scale. The introduction of
the conception of a 'psychoid' — if that is legitimate for the
physiologist — merely masks our ignorance, is of no real service,
and tends to obscure rather than clear up our notions regarding
the various phenomena involved. The same appears to be
true regarding the entelechian factor which takes the place of
'innate ideas,' innate knowledge, or 'clairvoyant intuition,' in
determining the ' specificity ' of instinctive action, or rather the
reception of the specific stimulus which evokes it. Such an
attitude as Driesch adopts seems tantamount to refusing to
accept the assistance of a different science studying the same
facts from another point of view, and taking refuge in mere
meaningless terminology — for these terms are quite meaningless
as far as physiology is concerned — to escape the disagreeableness
of confessing ignorance, of acknowledging that there is a blank
and apparently insurmountable wall across the path. At present
the only clear and approximately adequate account of all the
phenomena from the point of view of descriptive science is an
account in terms of psychology, and the only satisfactory
attitude is a frank recognition of this fact.

APPENDIX III

THE 'JOY' EMOTIONS

We must concede that the 'joy' emotions present formidable
difficulties to our theory of the nature and source of emotion,
as to practically all theories of the emotions hitherto pro-
pounded. When we describe emotion as arising from 'tension'
it is evident that we can only include the 'joy' emotions under
our description by very considerably extending the meaning
of the word 'tension.' In fact objection might be taken with
some show of reason to our using the word in any such
sense at all. Apart from other considerations, however, one
apparently sufficient justification for using the term in this

APP. in] The ' Joy' Emotions 267

way is the advantage which the psychology of the emotions
seems to derive from employing what one might call a kind of
general formula to express the conditions under which emotion
is developed. This is one point of view from which we would
have the reader regard the word 'tension' as we employ it,
that is as a kind of technical term, specialized for this purpose
in the psychology of the emotions.

But after all there is perhaps more to be said in favour
of the term. The position appears to be this. Among the
primary and fundamental emotions in human experience two
groups can be distinguished. The one group, of which we may
take Fear as type, is 'unidimensional,' if such a term may be
used in this connection. The emotion arises under conditions
which may quite properly be described as 'feeling-tension,' and
is either present in varying degrees of intensity or absent
altogether. The other group, of which the Self-feelings may
be taken as type, is ' duodimensional.' Here it is not merely
a case of the emotion being either present in varying degrees of
intensity or absent, but, when present, it is either 'positive' or
'negative.'

In the one group the 'tension' is due to satisfaction of
the impulse or interest being delayed or impeded, and when
satisfaction is attained the 'tension' disappears. In the other
group the 'tension' may arise either when the satisfaction is
denied, or when it is being attained. This is the fundamental
fact. But the difficulty is to bring this last type of emotion,
the emotion which arises when satisfaction of the impulse is
being attained, under our general description of emotion as
'tension.'

Emotion, we have said, is 'feeling- tension,' and 'feeling-
tension,' we maintain, arises when the appropriate action does
not follow immediately upon the impulse or stimulus. Let us
consider carefully, in the light of this description and theory,
what happens in the case of a typical 'joy' emotion, say the
'elation,' which, according to McDougall's account, accom-
panies the manifestation of the positive self-tendency or self-
display. This tendency either finds its satisfaction or not. If
it does not find its satisfaction, or if satisfaction is delayed,

268 The 'Joy' Emotions [APP.

the emotion aroused is not 'elation,' but either its opposite or
anger. On the other hand, if it does find its satisfaction,
'elation' may be experienced as an emotion. But there are
two cases. The tendency finds its satisfaction in the mani-
festation of negative self-feeling by the others, before whom
the self -display takes place. When this condition is realized
either of two things may happen. The self -display may end
in the experiencing of a mild gratification, that its end has been
attained, the ordinary experience of an impulse and interest
satisfied, or the admiring regards of the others may stimulate
positive self -feeling to a still higher degree, and self -display
may tend therefore to be accentuated. According to our view,
it is only in the latter case that the emotion in question, as such,
can be experienced. The mild gratification or satisfaction in
the former case is not emotional.

It is at this point then that our real problem faces us. Why
should satisfaction in the second case become emotional ? Our
answer is that the experience becomes emotional because here
again there may be 'feeling-tension' owing to the fact that
the satisfaction is itself stimulating and the situation, which
satisfies, at the same time accentuates the impulse by further
stimulation, so that action cannot 'keep up the pace.' One
cooperating factor — perhaps essential — is the rapidity with
which the satisfaction mounts up as the satisfying situation
developes. Another possible cooperating factor may be intro-
duced by the satisfaction, as such, tending to suspend further
action, but we do not think that this is ever an important
factor. Admittedly this 'feeling-tension' is very different in
quality from that experienced in cases where the satisfaction
of an impulse is retarded or obstructed. But may not any
differences of this kind be fully explained by the fact of the
satisfaction itself? While granting, therefore, that the use of
the term 'tension' in this sense might be challenged, we are
strongly of opinion that some such term is certainly applicable
to the experience in question.

Our analysis of 'elation' has led to a description of the
phenomena which can be applied quite generally to all the
'joy' emotions. In the case of all of them satisfaction is found

in] The 'Joy' Emotions 269

in a situation which is itself stimulating to further action.
Moreover the satisfaction also is of a stimulating or exciting
order. It is emphatically 'sthenic.' Emotion in the positive
direction, so to speak, is not necessarily evoked in every case.
There may be simply gratification, which is certainly not
emotional in our sense. But, on the other hand, emotion
having the 'joy' character may be evoked. In such cases our
general formula of 'feeling-tension' will be applicable to such
emotions, not because there is delay or lack of satisfaction, but
rather because satisfaction is in excess, or ahead of the action
to which the satisfaction in question, or the situation which
determines it, is a stimulus.

It is obvious therefore that 'joy,' as we understand it, is
not synonymous with that pleasure which is mere satisfaction,
and that it is not a general character of all emotions, or a
general condition of the affective life. Whether we should
recognize more than one essentially primary 'joy' emotion is
another matter. That is the view towards which McDougall
inclines. To be dogmatic on such a point is mere foolishness.
Self -feeling certainly originates one 'joy' emotion; tender
emotion may give rise to another. But the primary emotions
do not function in water-tight compartments, so to speak,
though our psychological analysis of emotional experience is
apt erroneously to suggest that they do. Hence there appears
to be nothing intrinsically absurd in the view that all cases of
'joy' emotion are what they are, because of the participation
of positive self-feeling in its emotional form, that is to say, that
' joy' as a primary emotion is nothing but the positive emotion
attached to the self-tendencies, is simply McDougalFs 'elation.'

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INDEX

Aberrations of Instinct, 105 f.
Abnormal psychology, 68, 211, 244

states, 56, 213
Ach, N., 138
Acquired appetites, 52, 253 ff.

educational significance of, 254 ff.
Acquired characteristics, transmission

of, 78, 79

Acquirement of meaning, 130, 259
Acquisitive instinct or tendency, 53,
73, 169, 170, 171, 173, 179, 187 ff.,
193, 202, 219

educational significance of, 189
Addison, Joseph, quoted, 77
Admiration, 32, 33, 35, 234
Aesthetic consciousness, 227
' Affections,' 39, 41, 43, 45, 49, 51, 54
Affective aspect, 21, 145, 156, 158, 166

element or factor, 155, 220, 240, 244,

259

Altruistic tendencies, 38, 195
Ambition, 53

Ammophila, 92 f., 123, 144
Amoeba, behaviour of, 248 f.

experience of, 145
Analgesia, natural, 146
Anger, 25, 39, 85, 160, 161, 165 f., 169,
170, 173, 177, 178 ff., 192, 196,
198, 200, 208, 211, 219, 236, 248
Animal, at bay, 179 f.

behaviour, 2, 8, 19, 43, 56, 62, 64, 97

inclinations or propensities, 23, 50,
52, 53, 72, 73, 74

mind, 43, 55, 56, 58, 62 f., 76

psychology, 42, 72, 76, 172
'Animal spirits,' 25, 33, 34
Ants, observations of, 102, 106
Appetite, 23, 25, 39, 44, 45, 49, 51, 52,
73, 149, 168, 169, 170, 185, 190,
205, 246 ff.

general tendencies, 168, 169, 252 f.

specific tendencies, 168, 169, 249 f.
Aristotle, 56
Association experiments, 138 ff.

of ideas, 37, 41, 210
Associationism, 8, 21, 42, 118
Associationists, English, 42, 203

Attention and adjustment, reactions of,

169, 205
Aversion, 23, 40, 41, 44, 103, 168, 216,

250

Bacon. Francis, 12

Bain, A., 77, 243, 246, 248

Baldwin, J. M., 72, 80, 186, 212, 220,

226, 227, 230, 233, 234, 235,

246, 248
Behaviour, 2, 3, 4, 10, 18, 22, 83, 84,

85, 97, 98, 100, 102, 112 f., 125,
146, 152, 153, 155, 191, 230

of human beings, 164, 165, 204,

207, 232
of living organisms, 2, 3, 6, 12, 18,

56, 81, 98, 150, 231, 263, 265
of lower organisms, 5, 6, 10, 206,

249
Behaviour experience, 103, 116f., 134,

137, 141

Belief, 49, 193, 213 f., 233, 243, 244, 245
Bergson, H., 58, 61, 68, 82, 83, 89, 92 ff.,

98, 100 f., 107 ff.
Biological account, 2, 10, 15, 19, 78 f.,

86, 126, 141, 152, 191

view of Instinct, 19, 57, 69, 76, 78 f.,
81, 94, 110, 112, 119, 122, 124,
150 f., 220, 257
Biology, 2, 5, 11, 21, 55, 69, 76, 85, 86,

98, 124, 260
Bipolarity, of cognition, 88

of experience, 88, 129
Body and mind or soul, 26, 33
Bonnet, C., 69, 72, 76, 131
Bostock, J., 70 (footnote), 75
Brain, localization of functions, 74, 75

physiological study of, 5, 75
Brehm, A. E., 77
Biichner, L., 77. 78, 105
Buff on, G. L. L., 76
Biihler, K., quoted, 136
Butler, J., 24, 38, 41, 55

Cabanis, P. J. G., 69 ff., 74

Carpenter, W., 75

Carr, H. Wildon, 111, 126

276

Index

Cartesianism, 24, 38
Character, 64, 73, 205, 214

laws of, 202 ff.

Clairvoyance, 66, 101, 102, 109
' Clairvoyant intuition,' 66, 68, 266
Cognition, and cognitive aspect, 20, 48,

58, 82, 88, 134, 135, 141, 147 ff.,

158, 171, 244, 249, 257, 259
' Collecting instinct,' 187
Combe, G., 71 f.
' Common sense,' 48 f., 82
Comparative psychology, 42, 55, 70,

76, 126, 160
Complex emotions, 35, 36, 44, 172,

204, 251
Complication of behaviour, law of, 203,

204
Conation, 48, 116, 122, 127, 128, 158,

259
Conative unity and continuity, 116,

259

Conatus, 36
Conceptual knowledge, 62, 89, 101, 108

thought, 62, 91, 92, 108, 110
Condillac, E. B. de, 131
* Consciousness of kind,' 187
Constructiveness 53, 73, 168, 228
Contagion of the emotions, 181, 236
of the imagination (Malebranche),

28 ff.

Contiguity, association by, 262 f.
Courtship tendency or instinct, 169,

170, 173, 190, 191, 220
Cranioscopy, 71
Criteria of instinctive behaviour, 260 ff .

of instinctive impulse, 171 ff.
Critical Philosophy, 48, 57, 60, 82
Cruelty, 172, 182 f.
' Curative instincts,' 67
Curiosity, 23, 28, 31, 35, 45, 52, 85, 153,

160, 161, 169, 170, 173, 179,

182 f., 199 ff., 219
(emotion), 199, 200 f.
educational significance of, 201 f.
Cuvier, G. L., 76

Damaraland, wild ox of, 184
Danger, 163, 164 f., 174, 176, 180
Darwin, Charles, 15, 55, 76, 78, 79, 80,

162, 174, 181, 191
Darwin, Erasmus, 70, 72, 77
Decay of instincts, 205
Definition of Instinct, 13 ff., 64, 65, 74,

75, 77, 81, 88, 99, 100, 125, 220,

261 f.
Descartes. 13, 14, 24 f., 33; 35, 37, 38,

42,' 48, 82, 1 3, 199
Desire, 23, 24, 25, 34, 35, 36, 39, 41,

44, 49, 51, 52, 251 f., 255
emotions of, 172, 252

Development by stimulation, law of,

204

Dewey, J., 222
Disgust, 67, 168, 249 ff.
' Disinterested cruelty,' 182 f.
Dissociation, 211

in play, 225
Driesch, H., 259, 260 ff.
Du Bois-Reymond, 5 (footnote)
Dynamic of experience, 10, 60, 87

Education, 1, 20, 150, 153, 155, 170,

229, 239

Educational theory, 43, 71
Ego, 60, 83

Egoistic tendencies, 22, 38, 83
Elation, 190, 192 f., 198, 268 f.
Emotion, 1, 10, 22, 23, 26, 27, 33, 35,
41, 43, 46, 65, 125, 143, 155 ff.,
187, 192, 193, 209, 238, 249, 257,
266 ff.

characteristics of, 33, 34, 158, 199
complex or secondarv, 35, 36, 44,

172, 204, 251
definition of, 158, 267 f.
expressive signs of, 26, 173, 181
intoxication by, 187, 193
James-Lange theory of, 10, 26
primary or simple, 25, 36, 44, 161,
163, 171, 172 ff., 191, 196, 200,
203, 208, 239, 251, 267
qualitative differences between emo-
tions, 143
Emotional experience, 85, 148, 180,

194, 204, 213, 239, 254 f.
Emotional instincts, 166f., 169, 170,

171 ff., 203, 251

Emulation, 52, 53, 153, 172, 224, 256
English empiricists, 38 ff.
Environment, 3, 79, 80, 144

adjustment to, 78, 80
Errors of Instinct, 67, 78, 105 f.
Evolution, 22, 69, 76, 106, 112
theory of, 56, 76, 78 f., 141
Experience, 3 f., 8, 10, 15, 17, 19, 21,
48, 60, 81, 83, 84, 86, 88, 93,
96, 97, 101, 112, 113 f., 119 f.,
124, 126, 128, 129, 145, 151, 214,
258 f., 261, 263
explanation of, 3 f., 7, 10, 85 f., 88,

124
'primary tissue' of, 112, 113, 114,

131

Experimental psychology, 8
Experimentation, 169, 170, 220, 223,

228 ff.

educational significance of, 229 f.
Experiments with chicks, Lloyd Mor-
gan's, 120
Spalding's, 99 f.

Index

277

Fabre, J. H., 76, 92, 99, 103, 104
'Factors of reinstatement,' 113, 114,

117

Faculty psychology, 16, 71, 73
Fear, 39, 45, 85, 155, 157, 160, 161 ff.,
169, 170, 173, 174ff., 160, 200,
202, 208, 209, 219, 248, 267

of death, 67, 175

of the dark, 175

haunting character of, 178
Fechner, G. T., 59
Ferguson, Adam, 47 f.
Fichte, J. G., 58, 60 f., 83
' Fighting ' instinct, 157, 165 f., 178,

184, 192 f.
Finalism, 124, 128
Flourens, G., 74
Freedom in play, 226 f.
Freud, S., 68
Freudians, 178, 180
Function of Instinct, 68
Fusion, law of, 203 f.

Gall, F. J., 71
Galton, F., 184, 185
Games, 183 f., 223, 226
German philosophy, 57

psychology, 21, 57
Giddings, F.,' 187
Green, T. EL, 48

Gregarious instinct or tendency, 40, 46,
47, 52, 73, 169, 170, 173, 184 ff.,
195, 251

educational significance of, 186 f.
Grief, 172, 194

Groos, Karl, 67, 77, 199, 220, 221, 223,
225, 227, 230

criticism of play theory, 220 ff.
Grosse, E., 221
Grotius, H., 22

Habit, 49, 79, 112, 190, 214, 231, 243,

253

race, 79
Hall, Stanley, recapitulation theory of

play, 183

Haller, A. von, 69
Hartley, D., 69, 70, 71, 75
Hartmann, E. von, 58, 61, 65 ff., 77,

89, 98, 101, 110
Hate or Hatred, 25, 34, 35, 45, 55, 86,

172, 210, 216
Head, H., 146

Hegel, G. W. F., 24, 58, 61, 65, 82
Hegelianism, 82
Herbart, J. F., 57, 59
Herbartianism, 16
Herbert, Lord, of Cherbury, 13 f., 98,

110
Hereditary transmission, 3, 78, 79, 80

Heredity, 3, 79, 86, 100, 112, 115

social, 80

Hobbes, T., 22 f., 26, 38, 193
Hobbism, 265

Hobhouse, L. T., 17, 101, 106, 229, 231
Hoffding, H., 158
Hope. 45, 252
Huber, F., 102
Hume, D., 21, 22, 41, 42 ff., 48, 49, 50,

58, 60, 77, 82, 151, 203
Hunger, 25, 44, 52, 168, 169, 180, 247,

249
Hunting instinct, 167, 169, 170, 173,

178 ff., 193

of Ammophila, 92 ff., 123
of Sphex, 104
Hutcheson, F., 24, 38, 39 ff., 48, 49, 85,

151, 203

Idea, 35, 38, 42, 62, 82, 209, 216, 242 ff.,

245

of self, 217, 234 f.
suggestive, 242, 244
unconscious, 65, 68
Ideal, 49, 177, 214 f.
Ideal representation, 91, 209, 211
' Ideal system,' 37, 82
Ideational level, 177, 209, 210, 213, 233,

241

Ideomotor action, 213, 242 f.
Image, 137, 139, 258
Imagination, aesthetic, danger of over-
stimulation, 225
play of, 224

Imitation, 15, 28, 35, 42, 50, 54, 73, 153,
168, 169, 170, 186, 195, 219, 220,
227, 229, 230 ff.
types of, 232 f.

Impulse, 84 ff., 91, 94, 95 f., 153
Inclination, natural, 20, 22, 24, 26, 27,

28, 31, 33, 35, 45
Inhibition, 158, 177, 211, 235
Inhibition by habit, law of, 190, 203,

204
Innate ideas, 14, 101, 261, 266

knowledge, 27, 44, 78, 109, 112, 187,

261, 266

Insects, behaviour of, 99, 108, 144, 152
Instinct emotion, 159 f., 192, 196
experience, 15, 16, 17, 89, 112, 130,
134, 140, 141, 149, 155, 157,
161, 177
interest, 130 ff., 141, 156, 159, 192,

247

tendency, general, 219 ff.
tendency, specific, 171 ff., 234, 247,

249

Instinctive behaviour, 2, 17, 18, 86,
98 ff., 109, 121. 138, 145, 152,
160, 172, 204, 260

18—3

278

Index

Instinctive impulse, 85 f., 150, 152, 153,

159 f., 171, 185
tendency, 152, 153, 154, 166, 202,

204, 206, 211, 224, 244 f., 248
Instinctus naturalis, 14
Intellectualism, 8, 37, 43, 58
Intelligence, 16, 19, 20, 43, 66, 89, 96 f.,

108 f., 120
and Instinct, 16, 2b, 80, 89, 108,

110, 111 ff.

Interest, 10, 19, 20, 33, 68, 87, 91, 103,

120, 122, 125, 133 ff., 141 ff.,

i 155, 157, 159, 206, 211 ff., 219,

239, 244, 245, 254 ff.
indirect, 256

' Interest disposition,' 212 f., 255
of the ' appetite ' order, 254 ff.
of the ' instinct ' order, 255
Introspection, 4, 9, 21, 56, 138, 141, 157,

165, 172, 231

Introspective psychologv, 21 ff., 56, 93
Intuition, 66, 90 f., 109
Intuitive knowledge, 89, 91, 101
Irons, D., quoted, 26

James, W., 7 (footnote), 9 {footnote),
10, 16, 26, 71, 135, 138, 151, 153,
154, 158, 174, 179, 181, 182, 183,
187, 190, 191, 202, 203, 204, 236,
243, 249, 250

Jennings, H. S., 5 f., 10, 248, 249

Joy, 25, 34, 35, 36, 41, 192, 194, 198,

208, 269
emotions, 192 ff., 198, 266 ff.

Justice, love of, 214 f.

Kant, I., 57, 59, 61, 82
Keller, Helen, 147
Kinaesthetic imagery, 137, 138
Knowledge, 27, 33, 60, 109 f, 131f.
conceptual, 62, 89, 101, 108
innate, 27, 44, 78, 109, 112, 187,

261

of Instinct, 27, 44, 64, 66, 67 ff., 78,
81, 89 ff., 98, 101. 106, 109, 112,
187, 261, 266
unconscious, 66
Kiilpe, 0., 158

Lamarck, J. B., 78, 79

Lange, K., 221

Language, 231 f.

Lapsed intelligence view of Instinct,

79

Laughter, 193
Learning, 99, 100, 119 f., 125, 138, 177,

231 f., 262 ff.

by trial and error, 231 f., 264
Leibniz, G. W., 57 f.
Lewes, G. H., 70

Life, 60 f., 109, 110

phenomena of, 2 1.
'Life impulse,' 8, 82, 85, 88
Livingstone, L\, experience with a lion,

165
Localization of brain functions, 74,

75
Locke, John, 1 (footnote), 21, 38, 42,

43, 48, 58, 60, 70, 110, 261
Locomotion, reactions of, 169, 205
Loeb, J., 260
Logic, 257, 259
Logical sense of ' meaning,' 136, 138,

257 f.
Love, 25, 34, 35, 45, 196, 197, 202, 216,

218

maternal, 67, 70
of dress, 67
of progeny, or parental, see 'parental

instinct'

sexual, see ' sexual love '
Lubbock, Sir J. (Lord Avebury), 76,
102

McDougall, W., 7 (footnote), 9, 15, 16,
20, 28, 37, 46, 53, 55, 56, 88
(footnote), 111, 123, 126, 151,
153 ff., 159, 161, 165, 166, 169,
171, 172, 173, 174, 177, 178, 179,
181, 184, 185, 186, 187, 190, 191,
192, 193, 195, 196, 197, 198, 203,
207, 212, 214, 217, 218, 219, 220,
235, 236, 237, 240, 242 ff., 249,
251, 267, 269

Magendie, F., 74

Make-believe, 223 ff.

Malebranche, N., 26 ff., 37, 38, 41, 42,
43, 48, 55, 67, 158, 203

Marbe, K., 138

Marshall, H. Rutgers, 13, 170, 185

Martineau, J., quoted, 36

Meaning, 95, 97, 112, 119, 122, 128,

130 ff., 148, 213, 217, 244, 257 ff.

primary, 97, 116 f., 129, 133, 134,

139, 141, 257

secondary, 97, 117, 118, 131, 136,
139, 141, 257

Mechanism, 65, 66, 72, 77, 124, 127

Mechanistic explanation, 77, 125, 127,
128

Messer, A., 138

Migration of birds, 106

Mill, J. S., 1 (footnote)

Mitchell, W., quoted, 8, 101

Moorhen, Lloyd Morgan's study of,
113 ff., 134

Moral sense, or faculty, 40, 51

Morgan, C. Lloyd, 13, 17, 18, 79, 92, 99,
111 ff., 126, 127, 130, 133, 134,
137, 138, 264

Index

279

Motor adaptation, 206
Mozart's genius for music, 123
Miinsterberg, H., quoted, 17
Myers, C. S., Ill, 123 S.

Natural law, 23, 72

' Natural powers,' 40

Natural propensity, 20, 22, 27, 39, 72

Natural selection, 3, 79, 81, 100, 106

Nature of Instinct, psychological, 20,

68, 82 ff.

Nausea, 168, 169, 249 f.
Negative self-feeling, 53, 190, 191, 192,

194, 195, 200, 204, 234, 241 f.,

245, 268

Nest -building instinct, 43, 95, 159
Newland, C. Bingham, 68 (footnote)
Notitiae communes, 14

Objective definition of Instinct, 13, 16 ff.
Objective study of behaviour, 2, 4, 19,

98, 123, 263, 265
study of Instinct, 2, 3, 13, 265
Organic resonance, 35, 143, 158, 162
Organic selection, 80
Osborn, H. F., 79

Pain, 23, 31, 36, 38, 39, 44, 45, 47, 145 f.,

169, 194, 247, 252
avoidance of, 169

sensational character of, 146 ff., 246
'Paralysing instinct,' 92
Parental instinct, 47, 169, 170, 173, 180,

192, 195 ff., 236
love, 44, 73
Passions, 23, 24, 25, 26, 31, 33, 39, 49,

68, 74
Peckham, Dr and Mrs, 76, 92, 93, 105,

143

Perception of distance, instinctive, 99
Perceptual experience, 48, 62, 90, 91, 92,

94, 96, 103, 105, 108, 109, 110,

130, 132, 134 f., 140, 145 f., 165,

209, 210, 250, 257, 258
' Personal isolation,' instinct of, 249, 250
Philosophical view of Instinct, 2, 57, 94
Philosophy, 1, 2, 11, 21, 37 f., 82, 85
'Philosophy of the human mind,' 1
Phobias, 216
Phrenology, 69, 71 ff.
Physical explanation, 3, 4, 5, 7
Physics, 3
Physiological account of Instinct, 57,

81, 151, 260 ff.
explanation, 6, 9, 10, 19
Physiological psychology, 9, 69 ff.
'Physiological state,' 6
Physiology, 1, 3, 5, 7, 21, 69, 71, 74, 81,

260, 265
Pity, 50, 54, 196 f.

Plato, 29

Play, 33, 67, 153, 167, 169, 170, 193,

220 ff., 230
biological function of, 67, 183, 221,

227

freedom of, 226
of the imagination, 224
Pleasure, 23, 30 f., 36, 47, 66, 145, 194,

247, 252 f.
seeking of, 169, 252
Pleasure-pain, 21, 145, 158
Plutarch, 29
Practical interest, 201 f.
Pragmatism, 58, 59
Prehension, reactions of, 169, 205, 248
Preperception, 118, 127
Preyer, W. T., 79
Pride, 45, 172
Prince, Morton, 209, 244
Pringle-Pattison, A. Seth, quoted, 48,

60, 61

' Prospective reference,' 118, 252
Psychical explanation, 4, 5, 7, 11, 68, 84
' Psychical integration,' 89, 91, 94, 96,

97 f., 121, 129, 131, 134, 177, 215
Psychical and physical series, 4 f.
Psychoanalysis, 205
' Psychoid,' 262, 266
Psychological account of Instinct, 1 f.,

4, 5, 20, 25, 76, 85 f., 107, 119,

126, 151

Psychology, field of, 3, 18, 21
Psychophysical disposition, 16
Psychophysical parallelism, 7 f., 12, 59
' Public sense,' 40 f.
Pugnacity, 73, 166, 236
Pure instincts, 152 f., 161, 167, 169,

205 f.

relation to appetite, 248
Purpose, 5, 10, 128, 177, 251 f., 255

consciousness of, 65
Purposive action, 65

Race, conservation or perpetuation of,

2, 15, 17, 48, 68, 205
habit, 79
Reason, 15, 16, 40, 43, 45, 49, 51, 58,

153

Reflection, 215
Reflex action, 14, 50, 65, 81, 92, 93, 94,

100, 113, 120, 122, 152, 167, 205,

260

Reid, T., 48 ff., 55, 71, 75, 82, 246
Reimarus, H. S., 76
Religious-metaphysical view of Instinct,

77 f.

Resentment, 44. 55
Ribot, Th., 28, 53, 79, 146, 174, 190,

191, 193, 196
Rolando, L., 74

280

Index

Romanes, G. J., 14, 77, 79, 81, 99, 100,

101, 160, 172
Romanes, Miss, note on behaviour of

cebus monkey, 229
Rousseau, J. J., 38, 103
Royce, J., 186

' Satisfyingness,' 90, 91, 92, 133, 142 f.,

145, 149, 194, 197, 213, 221, 222,

254

Schelling, F. W., 65
Schopenhauer, A., 24, 38, 58, 61 f?., 69,

82, 83, 98, 151

Science, development of, 2, 5, 68
Schneider, G. H., 15, 79, 182
Scientific view of Instinct, 69
Scottish School of Philosophy, 1 (foot-
note), 21, 42, 48, 50, 56, 57,

69, 71

Secretiveness, 202
Selection, law of, 204, 254
Self-abasement, 169, 190, 191, 202
Self-deception, conscious, 225
Self-display, 169, 190, 191, 192 f., 268
Self-esteem, 73

Self-feelings, 28 f., 53, 160, 190, 267
negative, 53, 190, 191, 192, 194, 195,

- 200, 204, 234, 241 f., 245, 268
positive, 53, 190, 192, 193, 194, 197,

204, 2681

Self-love, see ' self -regarding tendency '
Self-preservation, 14, 15, 24, 28, 33, 36,

48, 68, 154, 170
Self -regarding tendency, 24, 28, 30, 35,

44, 51, 53, 68

Self -sentiment, 194, 216, 217 f.
Self -tendencies, 32, 170, 173, 189, 190ff.,

211, 217, 269

educational significance of, 194
Sensation, 25, 39, 62, 88, 89, 91, 96,

120, 128, 131 f., 134, 146, 147,

159, 250

Sensationalism, 136
Sensibility, 67, 70, 74
Sentimental character, 214, 254
Sentiments, 23, 30, 45, 73, 177, 194, 204,

,207 ff., 239, 244, 245, 253
classification of, 215 f.
emotions of, 172, 252
Sex appetite, 52, 168, 169, 178, 190, 249
Sexual love, 44, 67, 73

rivalry, 180
Shaftesbury, Anthony, Earl of, 24, 38,

43

Shame, 67, 172, 202
Shand, A. F., 37, 159, 162, 163, 172, 173,

176, 179, 191, 196, 197, 198, 199,

202, 207, 208, 236, 250, 251
Sherrington, C. S., 71, 89 (footnote)
Sidgwick, H., 22, 23

Significance, 131, 136, 139, 259
Sleep, appetite for, 169, 249
Small's experiments with rats, 233
Smell, 101 f., 147, 250
Smith, Adam, 37, 41, 42, 46 f,, 50, 54,

173, 199, 203, 238
Social psychology, 70
Social tendencies, 32, 35, 53, 160, 169,

170, 185, 186, 189, 230
Sorrow, 25, 34, 35, 36, 196, 197, 208
Soul, 12, 26, 33, 34, 262
Souriau, P., 221
Spalding, D. A., 99, 100, 102
Species, preservation of, 68, 170
Specificity, 171, 179, 188, 219, 261 f.
Spencer, H., 79, 100, 152, 236
Spinoza, 35 f., 58, 203
Spiritualism, 263
Spurzheim, J. C., 71
Stewart, Dugald, 48, 49, 50 ff., 56, 71,

75, 199, 246, 247
Stout, G. F., 13, 111, 115, 116, 117, 118,

119ff., 130, 138, 152, 206, 207,

212, 243, 248, 252, 259, 263
Strength, feeling of, 193

Sturt. H., 7 (footnote), 91 (footnote), 133
Subconsciousness, 59, 68
Subjection, emotion of, 190, 198
Sublimation, 180, 184, 205
Sucking, instinct of, 39, 67, 153, 167,

205, 248
Suggestion and suggestibility, 28, 30, 35,

42, 45, 50, 169, 170, 186, 195,

213, 227, 230, 240 ff.
conditions of, 241

Sully, J., 158, 238, 247
Superiority, feeling of, 191, 195
Surprise, 156, 157, 173, 200 f.
Swammerdam. J., 69
' Svmpathetic insight,' 93
Sympathy, 32, 35, 37, 41, 42, 45, 50, 54,
67, 169, 170, 175, 180, 186, 227,
230, 235 ff., 245
active, 37, 46, 186, 235
primitive passive, 31, 32, 37, 46, 47,

175, 186, 235 ff., 245
educational significance of, 238 f.

Tarde, G., 235

Tender emotion, 196 ff., 211, 236, 237,

269
' Tension,' feeling, 91, 143 f., 148, 157,

159, 192 f., 197, 200, 249, 266 ff.
Thorn asius, C., 59
Thorndike, E. L., 154, 155, 157, 161,

162, 163, 165 f., 169, 231, 232,

236 f., 243

Time, independence of, 65, 67, 98
Titchener, E. B., 136 ff.
Transference, law of, 37, 203, 205

Index 281

Transiency, law of, 183, 203, 204 Wallace, A. R, 15, 78

'Tropism,' 6 Ward, J., 158

Wasmann, E., 106

Unconscious Idea, 65, 68 Watt, H. J., 138

impulse, 59 Weeping, 193

Will, 65, 68 Weismann, A., 79

Unconscious, Philosophy of the, 59, Will, 28, 34, 35, 46, 61 ff., 66, 68, 73

65 ff. 82, 83

'Uneasiness,' 39. 41, 51, 145, 185, Wolff, C., 57, 58

247 ff., 250, 252 Wonder, 25, 32, 33, 73, 199 ff., 234

Woodworth, R. S., 138

Value, sentiments of, 215 f. Work, 221 ff.
Variation, 3, 80 tendency, 229 f.

' Vital motions,' 23 ' Worthwhileness,' 89, 91, 133, 142 ff.,
Vocalization, reactions of, 169, 205 221, 222, 254

Volition, 10, 21, 22, 35, 65, 248 Wundt, W., 59, 79, 138

CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY J. B. PEACE, M.A., AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS

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