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HANDBOUND
AT THE

UNIVERSITY OF

THE

Psychological Review

EDITED BY
J. MARK BALDWIN HOWARD C. WARREN

JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

CHARLES H. JUDD, Yale University (Editor of the Monograph Serits).
WITH THE CO-OPERATION FOR THIS SECTION OF

A. C. ARMSTRONG, WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY ; ALFRED BINET, fccoLB DES HAUTKS-
frruDES, PARIS; W. L. BRYAN, INDIANA UNIVERSITY; WILLIAM CALDWELL, Mc-
GILL UNIVERSITY; MARY W. CALKINS, WELLESLEY COLLEGE; JOHN DEWEY,
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY ; J. R. ANGELL, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO ; C. LADD FRANKLIN,
BALTIMORE; H. N. GARDINER, SMITH COLLEGE; G. H. HOWISON, UNIVERSITY or
CALIFORNIA ; P. JANET, COLLEGE DE FRANCE; JOSEPH JASTROW, UNIVERSITY OF WIS-
CONSIN; ADOLF MEYER, N. Y. PATHOL. INSTITUTE; C. LLOYD MORGAN, UNIVERSITY
COLLEGE, BRISTOL; HUGO MttNSTERBERG, HARVARD UNIVERSITY; E. A. PACE,
CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY, WASHINGTON ; G. T. W. PATRICK, UNIVERSITY OF IOWA ; CARL
STUMPF, UNIVERSITY, BERLIN; R. W. WEN LEY, UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.

Volume XIIL, 1906.

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CONTENTS OF VOLUME XIII.

No. i. January.

The Relation of Logic to Allied Disciplines: W. A. HAMMOND, i.
Some Effects of Incentives on Work and Fatigue : W. R. WRIGHT, 23.
Discussion :

The Problem of the Subconscious : IRVING KING, 35.

The Place and Value of the Marginal Region in Psychic Life : J. B. PRATT, 50.
A Correction, 60.

No. 2. March.

A Reconciliation between Structural and Functional Psychology: President's

Address: M. W. CATKINS, 61.

Symmetry, Linear Illusions, and the Movements of the Eye : G. M. STRATTON, 81.
On Secondary Bias in Objective Judgments ; R. MACDOUGALL, 97.
Mind as Instinct : J. E. BOODIN, 121.

No. 3. May.

Frontispiece : Gustav Theodor Fechner.

The Fechner Number : Editorial Note, 141 .

An Experimental Study of Fechner's Principles of Esthetics: LILLIEN J.

MARTIN, 142.
A Case of Pseudo-Chromaesthesia : a tricolor plate accompanying Miss MARTIN'S

article, 189.
Announcement, 220.

No. 4. July.

The Psychology of Interest (I:) : FELIX ARNOLD, 221.

Are There Hypnotic Hallucinations ? BORIS SIDIS, 239.

A Study of Certain Relations of Accommodation and Convergence to the Judgment

of the Third Dimension (from the Psychological Laboratory of the University

of Chicago) : H. CARR and J. B. ALLEN, 258.
Illusions of Reversible Perspective: A. VICHOLKOVSKA, 276.

No. 5. September.

The Psychology of Interest : (II.) FELIX ARNOLD, 291.

On the Analysis of the Memory Consciousness : F. KUHLMANN, 316.

Discussion :

Organization in Psychology : S. F. MACLENNAN, 349.

No. 6. November.

Reasons for the Slight Esthetic Value of the ' Lower ' Senses : W. B. PITKIN,

363-
A Study of Certain Phenomena Concerning the Limit of Beats: A. WYCZOL

KOWSKA. (From the Chicago Psychological Laboratory.) 378.
Introduction to Experimental Logic : J. MARK BALDWIN, 388.
Discussion :

Certain Characteristics of Experience : S. S. COLVIN, 396.

Categories of the Self : PERCY HUGHES, 404.
Editor's Note : 412.

N. S. VOL. XIII. No. i. January, 1906.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

THE RELATIONS OF LOGIC TO ALLIED DIS-
CIPLINES.1

BY PROFESSOR WILUAM A. HAMMOND,
Cornell University.

In 1787, in the preface to the second edition of the Kr. d. r.
V., Kant wrote the following words : " That Logic, from the
earliest times, has followed that secure method " (namely, the
secure method of a science as attested by the unanimity of its
workers and the stability of its results), " may be seen from the
fact that since Aristotle it has not had to retrace a single step,
unless we choose to consider as improvements the removal of
some unnecessary subtleties, or the clearer definition of its mat-
ter, both of which refer to the elegance rather than to the solidity
of the science. It is remarkable, also, that to the present day,
it has not been able to make one step in advance, so that to all
appearances it may be considered as completed and perfect. If
some modern philosophers thought to enlarge it, by introducing
-psychological chapters on the different faculties of knowledge
(faculty of imagination, wit, etc.), or metaphysical chapters on
the origin of knowledge or different degrees of certainty ac-
cording to the difference of objects (idealism, skepticism, etc.),
or, lastly, anthropological chapters on prejudices, their causes
and remedies, this could only arise from their ignorance of the
peculiar nature of logical science. We do not enlarge, but we
only disfigure the sciences, if we allow their respective limits to-
be confounded ; and the limits of logic are definitely fixed by

1 Paper read at the Congress of Arts and Science, St. Louis Exposition „
1904.

2 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

the fact, that it is a science which has nothing to do but fully to
exhibit and strictly to prove the formal rules of all thought
(whether it be a -priori or empirical, whatever be its origin or
its object, and whatever be the impediments, accidental or nat-
ural, which it has to encounter in the human mind)." — [Trans-
lated by Max Muller.]

Scarcely more than half a century after the publication of
this statement of Kant's, John Stuart Mill (Introduction to Sys-
tem of Logic) wrote : " There is as great diversity among authors
in the modes which they have adopted of defining logic, as in
their treatment of the details of it. This is what might natur-
ally be expected on any subject on which writers have availed
themselves of the same language as a means of delivering
different ideas. * * * This diversity is not so much an evil
to be complained of, as an inevitable, and in some degree a
proper, result of the imperfect state of those sciences " (that is,
of logic, jurisprudence, and ethics). "It is not to be expected
that there should be agreement about the definition of anything,
until there is agreement about the thing itself." This remark-
able disparity of opinion is due partly to the changes in the
treatment of logic from Kant to Mill, and partly to the fact that
both statements are extreme. That the science of logic was
* completed and perfect ' in the time of Kant could only with any
degree of accuracy be said of the treatment of syllogistic proof
or the deductive logic of Aristotle. That the diversity was so
great as pictured by Mill is not historically exact, but could be
said only of the new epistemological and psychological treatment
of logic and not of the traditional formal logic. The confusion
in logic is no doubt largely due to disagreement in the delimita-
tion of its proper territory and to the consequent variety of
opinions as to its relations to other disciplines. The rise of in-
ductive logic coincident with the rise and growth of physical
science and empiricism, forced the consideration of the question
as to the relation of formal thought to reality, and the conse-
quent entanglement of logic in a triple alliance of logic, psy-
chology and metaphysics. How logic can maintain friendly
relations with both of these and yet avoid endangering its terri-
torial integrity, has not been made clear by logicians or psy-

RELATIONS OF LOGIC. 3

chologists or metaphysicians, and that, too, in spite of persistent
attempts to justly settle the issue as to their respective spheres
of influence. Until modern logic definitely settles the question
of its aims and legitimate problems, it is difficult to see how any
agreement can be reached as to its relation to the other disci-
plines. The situation as it confronts one in the discussion of the
relations of logic to allied subjects may be analyzed as follows :

1. The relation of logic as science to logic as art.

2. The relation of logic to psychology.

3. The relation of logic to metaphysics.

The development of nineteenth century logic has made an
answer to the last two of the foregoing problems exceedingly
difficult. Indeed, one may say that the evolution of modern
epistemology has had a centrifugal influence on logic, and
instead of growth towards unity of conception we have a chaos
of diverse and discordant theories. The apple of discord has
been the theory of knowledge. A score of years ago when
Adamson wrote his admirable article in the Encyclopedia Bri-
tannica (Article * Logic,' 1882), he found the conditions much
the same as I now find them. " Looking to the chaotic state
of logical text-books at the present time, one would be inclined
to say that there does not exist anywhere a recognized currently
received body of speculations to which the title logic can be
unambiguously assigned, and that we must therefore resign the
hope of attaining by any empirical consideration of the received
doctrine a precise determination of the nature and limits of log-
ical theory." I do not, however, take quite so despondent a
view of the logical chaos as the late Professor Adamson ;
rather, I believe with Professor Stratton (PsYCH. REV., Vol. III.)
that something is to be gained for unity and consistency by
more exact delimitation of the subject-matter of the philosoph-
ical disciplines and their interrelations, which precision, if se-
cured, would assist in bringing into clear relief the real problems
of the several departments of inquiry, and facilitate the proper
classification of the disciplines themselves.

The attempt to delimit the spheres of the disciplines, to state
their interrelations and classify them, was made early in the
history of philosophy, at the very beginning of the development

4 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

of logic as a science by Aristotle. In Plato's philosophy, logic
is not separated from epistemology and metaphysics. The key
to his metaphysics is given essentially in his theory of the reality
of the concept, which offers an interesting analogy to the posi-
tion of logic in modern idealism. Before Plato there was no
formulation of logical theory, and in his dialogues it is only
contained in solution. The nearest approach to any formula-
tion is to be found in an applied logic set forth in the precepts
and rules of the rhetoricians and sophists. Properly speaking,
Aristotle made the first attempt to define the subject of logic and
to determine its relations to the other sciences. In a certain
sense logic for Aristotle is not a science at all. For science is
concerned with some ens, some branch of reality, while logic is
concerned with the methodology of knowing, with the formal
processes of thought whereby an ens or a reality is ascertained
and appropriated to knowledge. In the sense of a method
whereby all scientific knowledge is secured, logic is a prop-
aedeutic to the sciences. In the idealism of the Eleatics and
Plato, thought and being are ultimately identical, and the laws
of thought are the laws of being. In Aristotle's conception,
while the processes of thought furnish a knowledge of reality
or being, their formal operation constitutes the technique of
investigation, and their systematic explanation and description
constitute logic. Logic and metaphysics are distinguished as
the science of being and the doctrine of the thought-processes
whereby being is known. Logic is the doctrine of the organon
of science, and when applied is the organon of science. The
logic of Aristotle is not a purely formal logic. He is not inter-
ested in the merely schematic character of the thought-processes,
but in their function as mediators of apodictic truth. He begins
with the assumption that in the conjunction and disjunction of
correctly formed judgments the conjunction or disjunction of
reality is mirrored. Aristotle does not here examine into the
powers of the mind as a whole ; that is done, though fragmen-
tarily, in the De Anima and Parva Naturalia, where the mental
powers are regarded as phases of the processes of nature with-
out reference to normation ; but in his logic he inquires only
into those forms and laws of thinking which mediate proof.

RELA TIONS OF LO QIC. 5

Scientific proof, in his conception, is furnished in the form of
the syllogism, whose component elements are terms and propo-
sitions. In the little tract On Interpretation (/'. e., on the Judg-
ment as interpreter of thought), — if it is genuine, — the prop-
osition is considered in its logical bearing.

The treatise on the Categories, which discusses the nature
of the most general terms, forms a connecting link between
logic and metaphysics. The categories are the most general
concepts or universal modes under which we have knowledge of
the world. They are not simply logical relations ; they are ex-
istential forms, being not only the modes under which thought
regards being, but the modes under which being exists. Aris-
totle's theory of the methodology of science is intimately con-
nected with his view of knowledge. Scientific knowledge in
his opinion refers to the essence of things ; for example, to
those universal aspects of reality which are given in particulars,
but which remain self-identical amidst the variation and passing
of particulars. The universal, however, is known only through
and after particulars. There is no such thing as innate knowl-
edge or Platonic reminiscence. Knowledge, if not entirely em-
pirical, has its basis in empirical reality. Causes are known
only through effects. The universals have no existence apart
from things, although they exist realiter in things. Empirical
knowledge of particulars must, therefore, precede in time the
conceptual or scientific knowledge of universals. In the evo-
lution of scientific knowledge in the individual mind, the body
of particulars or of sense experience is to its conceptual trans-
formation as potentiality is to actuality, matter to form, the
completed end of the former being realized in the latter. Only
in the sense of this power to transform and conceptualize, does
the mind have knowledge within itself. The genetic content is
experiential ; the developed concept, judgment, or inference is
inform noetic. Knowledge is, therefore, not a mere * precipi-
tate of experience,' nor is Aristotle a complete empiricist.

The conceptual form of knowledge is not immediately given
in things experienced, but is a product of noetic discrimination
and combination. Of a sensible object as such there is no con-
cept ; the object of a concept is the generic essence of a thing ;

6 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

and the concept itself is the thought of this generic essence.
The individual is generalized ; every concept does or can em-
brace several individuals. It is an ' aggregate of distinguish-
ing marks,' and is expressed in a definition. The concept as
such is neither true nor false. Truth first arises in the form of
a judgment or proposition, wherein a subject is coupled with a
predicate, and something is said about something. A judg-
ment is true when the thought (whose inward process is the
judgment and whose expression in vocal symbols is the proposi-
tion) regards as conjoined or divided that which is conjoined or
divided in actuality ; in other words, when the thought is con-
gruous with the real. While Aristotle does not ignore induction
as a scientific method (how could he when he regards the self-
subsistent individual as the only real?), yet he says that, as a
method, it labors under the defect of being only proximate ; a
complete induction from all particulars is not possible, and
therefore cannot furnish demonstration. Only the deductive
process proceeding syllogistically from the universal (or essen-
tial truth) to the particular is scientifically cogent or apodictic.
Consequently Aristotle developed the science of logic mainly as
a syllogistic technique or instrument of demonstration. From
this brief sketch of Aristotle's logical views it will be seen that
the epistemological and metaphysical relations of logic which
involve its greatest difficulty and cause the greatest diversity in
its modern exponents, were present in undeveloped form to the
mind of the first logician. It would require a mighty optimism
to suppose that this difficulty and diversity, which has increased
rather than diminished in the progress of historical philosophy,
should suddenly be made to vanish by some magic of restate-
ment of subject matter, or theoretical delimitation of the disci-
pline. As Fichte said of Philosophy, ' The sort of a philosophy
that a man has, depends on the kind of man he is ' ; so one
might almost say of logic, * The sort of logic that a man has,
depends on the kind of philosopher he is.' If the blight of
discord is ever removed from epistemology, we may expect
agreement as to the relations of logic to metaphysics. Mean-
while logic has the great body of scientific results deposited in
the physical sciences on which to build and test, with some as-

RELA TIONS OF LOGIC. ^

surance, its doctrine of methodology ; and as philosophy moves
forward persistently to the final solution of its problems, logic
may justly expect to be a beneficiary in its established theories.
After Aristotle's death logic lapsed into a formalism more
and more removed from any vital connection with reality and
oblivious to the profound epistemological and methodological
questions that Aristotle had at least raised. In the Middle Ages
it became a highly developed exercise in inference applied to
the traditional dogmas of theology and science as premises, with
mainly apologetic or polemical functions. Its chief importance
is found in its application to the problem of realism and nomi-
nalism, the question as to the nature of universals. At the
height of Scholasticism realism gained its victory by syllogisti-
cally showing the congruity of its premises with certain funda-
mental dogmas of the church, especially with the dogma of the
unity and reality of the Godhead. The heretical conclusion
involved in nominalism is equivalent (the accepted dogma of the
church being axiomatic) to reductio ad absurdum. A use of
logic such as this, tending to conserve rather than to increase
the body of knowledge, was bound to meet with attack on the
awakening of post-renaissance interest in the physical world,
and the acquirement of a body of truth to which the scholastic
formal logic had no relation. The anti-scholastic movement in
logic was inaugurated by Francis Bacon, who sought in his
Novum Organum to give science a real content through the ap-
plication of induction to experience and the discovery of univer-
sal truths from particular instances. The syllogism is rejected
as a scientific instrument, because it does not lead to principles,
but proceeds only from principles, and is therefore not useful for
discovery. It permits at most only refinements on knowledge
aleady possessed, but cannot be regarded as creative or produc-
tive. The Baconian theory of induction regarded the accumu-
lation of facts and the derivation of general principals and laws
from them as the true and fruitful method of science. In Eng-
land this empirical view of logic has been altogether dominant,
and the most illustrious English exponents of logical theory,
Herschel, Whewell and Mill, have stood on that ground. Since
the introduction of German idealism in the last half century a

8 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

new logic has grown up whose chief business is with the theory
of knowledge.

Kant's departure in logic is based on an epistemological ex-
amination of the nature of judgment, and on the answer to his
own question, ' How are synthetic judgments a -priori possible ?'
The a -priori elements in knowledge make knowledge of the
real nature of things impossible. Human knowledge extends to
the phenomenal world, which is seen under the a -priori forms
of the understanding. Logic for Kant is the science of the
formal and necessary laws of thought, apart from any reference
to objects. Pure or universal logic aims to understand the forms
of thought without regard to metaphysical or psychological rela-
tions, and this position of Kant is the historical beginning of
the subjective formal logic.

In the metaphysical logic of Hegel, which rests on a panlog-
istic basis, being and thought, form and content, are identical.
Logical necessity is the measure and criterion of objective reality.
The body of reality is developed through the dialectic self-move-
ment of the idea. In such an idealistic monism, formal and real
logic are by the metaphysical postulate coincident.

Schleiermacher in his dialectic regards logic from the stand-
point of epistemological realism, in which the real deliverances
of the senses are conceptually transformed by the spontaneous
activity of reason. This spirit of realism is similar to that of
Aristotle, in which the one-sided a priori view of knowledge is
controverted. Space and time are forms of the existence of
things, and not merely a -priori forms of knowing. Logic he
divides into dialectic and technical logic. The former regards
the idea of knowledge as such ; the technical regards knowledge
in the process of becoming or the idea of knowledge in motion.
The forms of this process are induction and deduction. The
Hegelian theory of the generation of knowledge out of the proc-
esses of pure thought is emphatically rejected.

Lotze, who is undoubtedly one of the most influential and
fruitful writers on logic in the last century, attempts to bring
logic into closer relations with contemporary science, and is an
antagonist of one-sided formal logics. For him logic falls into
the three parts of (i) pure logic or the logic of thought; (2)

RELA TIONS OF LOGIC. 9

applied logic or the logic of investigation ; (3) the logic of
knowledge or methodology ; and this classification of the matin
and problems of logic has had an important influence on sub-
sequent treatises on the discipline. His logic is formal, as he
describes it himself, in the sense of setting forth the modes of
the operation of thought and its logical structure; it is real in
the sense that these forms are dependent on the nature of things
and not something independently given in the mind. While
he aims to maintain the distinct separation of logic and meta-
physics he says (in the discussion of the relations between formal
and real logical meaning) the question of meaning naturally
raises a metaphysical problem : * Ich thue besser der Meta-
physik die weitere Erorterung dieses wichtigen Punktes zu iiber-
lassen ' (Logic, 2d ed., p. 571). How could it be otherwise when
his whole view of the relations and validity of knowledge is
inseparable from his realism or teleological idealism, as he him-
self characterizes his own standpoint?

Drobisch, a follower of Herbart, is one of the most thor-
oughgoing formalists in modern logical theory. He attempts
to maintain strictly the distinction between thought and knowl-
edge. Logic is the science of thought. He holds that there
may be formal truth, for example, logically valid truth, which
is materially false. Logic, in other words, is purely formal ;
material truth is matter for metaphysics or science. Drobisch
holds, therefore, that the falsity of the judgment expressed in
the premise from which a formally correct syllogism may be
deduced, is not subject matter for logic. The sphere of logic
is limited to the region of inference and forms of procedure, his
view of the nature and function of logic being determined
largely by the bias of his mathematical standpoint. The con-
gruity of thought with itself, judgments, conclusions, analyses,
etc., is the sole logical truth, as against Trendelenburg, who
took the Aristotelian position that logical truth is the * agree-
ment of thought with the object of thought/

Sigwart looks at logic mainly from the standpoint of the
technology of science, in which, however, he discovers the im-
plications of a teleological metaphysic. Between the proc-
esses of consciousness and external changes he finds a causal

10 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

relation and not parallelism. Inasmuch as thought sometimes
misses its aim, as is shown by the fact that error and dispute
exist, there is need of a discipline whose purpose is to show us
how to attain and establish truth and avoid error. This is the
practical aim of logic, as distinguished from the psychological
treatment of thought, where the distinction between true and
false has no more place than the distinction between good and
bad. Logic presupposes the impulse to discover truth, and it,
therefore, sets forth the criteria of true thinking, and endeavors
to describe those normative operations whose aim is validity of
judgment. Consequently logic falls into the two parts of (i)
critical, (2) technical, the former having meaning only in refer-
ence to the latter ; the main value of logic is to be sought in its
function as art. " Methodology, therefore, which is generally
made to take a subordinate place, should be regarded as the
special, final, and chief aim of our science" (Logic^ Vol. I., p.
21, Eng. Tr.). As an art, logic undertakes to determine under
what conditions and prescriptions judgments are valid, but does
not undertake to pass upon the validity of the content of given
judgments. Its prescriptions have regard only to formal cor-
rectness and not to the material truth of results. Logic is,
therefore, a formal discipline. Its business is with the due pro-
cedure of thought, and it attempts to show no more than how
we may advance in the reasoning process in such way that each
step is valid and necessary. If logic were to tell us -what to
think or give us the content of thought, it would be commensu-
rate with the whole of science. Sigwart, however, does not
mean by formal thought independence of content, for it is not
possible to disregard the particular manner in which the ma-
terials and content of thought are delivered through sensation
and formed into ideas. Further, logic having for its chief busi-
ness the methodology of science, the development of knowl-
edge from empirical data, it ought to include a theory of knowl-
edge, but it should not so far depart from its subjective limits as
to include within its province the discussion of metaphysical im-
plications or a theory of being. For this reason, Sigwart rele-
gates to a postscript his discussion of teleology, but he gives an
elaborate treatment of epistemology extending through Vol. I.

RELATIONS OF LOGIC. I I

and develops his account of methodology in Vol. II. The
question regarding the relation between necessity, the element
in which logical thought moves, and freedom, the postulate of
the will, carries one beyond the confines of logic and is, in his
opinion, the profoundest problem of metaphysics, whose func-
tion is to deal with the ultimate relation between * subject and
object, the world and the individual, and this is not only basal
for logic and all science, but is the crown and end of them all.'
Wundt's psychological and methodological treatment of logic
stands midway between the purely formal treatises on the one
hand, and the metaphysical treatises on the other hand. The
general standpoint of Wundt is similar to that of Sigwart, in that
he discovers the function of logic in the exposition of the for-
mation and methods of scientific knowledge ; for example, in
epistemology and methodology. Logic must conform to the
conditions under which scientific inquiry is actually carried on ;
the forms of thought, therefore, cannot be separate from or indif-
ferent to the content of knowledge ; for it is a fundamental
principle of science that its particular methods are determined
by the nature of its particular subject-matter. Scientific logic
must reject the theory that identifies thought and being (Hegel)
and the theory of parallelism between thought and reality
(Schleiermacher, Trendelenburg, and Ueberweg), in which the
ultimate identity of the two is only concealed. Both of these
theories base logic on a metaphysics, which makes it necessary
to construe the real in terms of thought, and logic, so divorced
from empirical reality, is powerless to explain the methods of
scientific procedure. One cannot, however, avoid the accep-
tance of thought as a competent organ for the interpretation of
reality, unless one abandons all question of validity and accepts
agnosticism or skepticism. This interpretative power of thought
or congruity of thought with reality is translated by metaphysical
logic into identity. Metaphysical logic concerns itself funda-
mentally with the content of knowledge, not with its evidential
or formal logical aspects, but with being and the laws of being.
It is the business of metaphysics to construct its notions and the-
ories of reality out of the deliverances of the special sciences and
inferences derived therefrom. The aim of metaphysics is the

12 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

development of a world-view free from internal contradictions, a
view that shall unite all particular and plural knowledges into a
whole. Logic stands in more intimate relation to the special
sciences, for here the relations are reciprocal and immediate ;
for example, from actual scientific procedure logic abstracts its
general laws and results, and these in turn it delivers to the sci-
ences as their formulated methodology. In the history of sci-
ence the winning of knowledge precedes the formulation of the
rules employed, that is, precedes any scientific methodology.
Logic, as methodology, is not an a friori construction, but has
its genesis in the growth of science itself and in the discovery
of those tests and criteria of truth which are found to possess an
actual heuristic or evidential value. It is not practicable to
to separate epistemology and logic, for such concepts as
causality, analogy, validity, etc., are fundamental in logical
method, and yet they belong to the territory of epistemology,
are epistemological in nature, as one may indeed say of all the
general laws of thought. A formal logic that is merely prop-
aedeutic, a logic that aims to free itself from the quarrels of
epistemology, is scientifically useless. Its norms are valueless,
in so far as they can only teach the arrangement of knowledge
already possessed, and teach nothing as to how to secure it or
test its real validity. While formal logic aims to put itself out-
side of philosophy, metaphysical logic would usurp the place of
philosophy. Formal logic is inadequate, because it neither
shows how the laws of thought originate, why they are valid,
nor in what sense they are applicable to concrete investigation.
Wundt, therefore, develops a logic which one may call epistemo-
logical— methodological, and which stands between the ex-
tremes of formal logic and metaphysical logic. The laws of
logic must be derived from the processes of psychic experience
and the procedure of the sciences. ' Logic therefore needs,'
as he says, ' epistemology for its foundation and the doctrine
of methods for its completion.'

Lipps takes the view outright that logic is a branch of psy-
chology ; Husserl in his latest book goes to the other extreme of
a purely formal and technical logic, and devotes almost his en-
tire first volume to the complete sundering of psychology and
logic.

RELATIONS OF LOGIC. 13

Bradley bases his logic on the theory of the judgment. The
logical judgment is entirely different from the psychological.
The logical judgment is a qualification of reality by means of an
idea. The predicate is an adjective or attribute which in the
judgment is ascribed to reality. The aim of truth is to qualify
reality by general notions. But inasmuch as reality is individual
and self-existent, whereas truth is universal, truth and reality
are not coincident. Bradley's metaphysical solution of the dis-
parity between thought and reality is put forward in his theory
of the unitary Absolute, whose concrete content is the totality
of experience. But as thought is not the whole of experience,
judgments cannot compass the whole of reality. Bosanquet
objects to this, and maintains that reality must not be regarded
as an ideal construction. The real world is the world to which
our concepts and judgments refer. In the former we have a
world of isolated individuals of definite content ; in the latter,
we have a world of definitely systematized and organized con-
tent. Under the title of the Morphology of Knowledge
Bosanquet considers the evolution of judgment and inference
in their varied forms. " Logic starts from the individual mind,
as that within which we have the actual facts of intelligence,
which we are attempting to interpret into a system " (Logic,
Vol. I., p. 247). The real world for every individual is his
world. " The work of intellectually constituting that totality
which we call the real world is the work of knowledge. The
work of analyzing the process of this constitution or determi-
nation is the work of logic, which might be described ... as
the reflection of knowledge upon itself" (Logic, Vol. I., p. 3).
"The relation of logic to truth consists in examining the
characteristics by which the various phases of the one intel-
lectual function are fitted for their place in the intellectual
totality which constitutes knowledge " (ibid.}. The real world
is the intelligible world ; reality is something to which we attain
by a constructive process. We have here a type of logic which
is essentially a metaphysic. Indeed, Bosanquet says in the
course of his first volume : " I entertain no doubt that in content
logic is one with metaphysics, and differs, if at all, simply in
mode of treatment — in tracing the evolution of knowledge in

14 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

the light of its value and import, instead of attempting to sum-
marize its value and import apart from the details of its evolu-
tion " (Logic, Vol. L, p. 247).

Dewey (Studies in Logical Theory, p. 5) describes the
essential function of logic as the inquiry into the relations of
thought as such to reality as such. Although such an inquiry
may involve the investigation of psychological processes and of
the concrete methods of science and verification, a description
and analysis of the forms of thought, conception, judgment and
inference, yet its concern with these is subordinate to its main
concern, namely, the relation of 'thought at large to reality at
large.' Logic is not reflection on thought, either on its nature
as such or on its forms, but on its relations to the real. In
Dewey's philosophy, logical theory is a description of thought
as a mode of adaptation to its own conditions, and validity is
judged in terms of the efficiency of thought in the solution of
its own problems and difficulties. The problem of logic is more
than epistemological. Wherever there is striving there are ob-
stacles ; and wherever there is thinking there is a * material-in-
question.' Dewey's logic is a theory of reflective experience
regarded functionally, or a pragmatic view of the discipline.
This logic of experience aims to evaluate the significance of
social research, psychology, fine and industrial art, and relig-
ious aspiration in the form of scientific statement, and to accom-
plish for social values in general what the physical sciences
have done for the physical world. In Dewey's teleological
pragmatic logic the judgment is essentially instrumental, the
whole of thinking is functional, and the meaning of things is
identical with valid meaning. (Studies in Logical Theory, cf.
pp. 48, 82, 128). The real world is not a self -existent world
outside of knowledge, but simply the totality of experience ;
and experience is a complex of strains, tensions, checks, and
attitudes. The function of logic is the redintegration of this
experience. "Thinking is adaptation to an end through the
adjustment of particular objective contents" (ibid.,^. 81).
Logic here becomes a large part, if not the whole, of a meta-
physics of experience ; its nature and function are entirely
determined by the theory of reality.

RELATIONS OF LOGIC. 15

In this brief and fragmentary resumt are exhibited certain
characteristic movements in the development of logical theory,
the construction put upon its subject-matter and its relation to
other disciplines. The resume has had in view only the mak-
ing of the diversity of opinion on these questions historically
salient. There are three distinct types of logic noticed here :
(i) formal, whose concern is merely with the structural aspect
of inferential thought, and its validity in terms of internal con-
gruity ; (2) metaphysical logic whose concern is with the func-
tional aspect of thought, its validity in terms of objective
reference and its relation to reality ; (3) epistemological and
methodological logic, whose concern is with the genesis, nature
and laws of logical thinking as forms of scientific knowledge,
and with their technological application to the sciences as
methodology. I am not at present concerned with a criticism
of these various viewpoints, excepting, in so far as they affect
the problem of the interrelationship of logic and the allied
disciplines.

For my present purpose I reject the extreme metaphysical
and the extreme formal positions, and assume that logic is a
discipline whose business is to describe and systematize the formal
processes of inferential thought and to apply them as practical
principles to the body of real knowledge.

I wish now to take up seriatim the several questions touch-
ing the various relations of logic enumerated above, and first of
all the question of the relation of logic as science to logic as art.

I. Logic as science and logic as art.

It seems true that the founder of logic, Aristotle, regarded
logic not as a science, but rather as propaedeutic to science,
and not as an end in itself, but rather technically and heuristi-
cally as an instrument. In other words, logic was conceived by
him rather in its application or as an art, than as a science, and
so it continued to be regarded until the close of the Middle Ages,
being characterized indeed as the ars artium; for even the
logica docens of the Scholastics was merely the formulation of
that body of precepts which are of practical service in the syl-
logistic arrangement of premises, and the Port Royal Logic
aims to furnish Vart de Denser. This technical aspect of the

1 6 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

science has clung to it down to the present day, and is no doubt
a legitimate description of a part of its function. But no one
would now say that logic ts an art ; rather it is a body of theory
which may be technically applied. Mill, in his examination of
Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy (p. 391), says of logic that
it ' is the art of thinking, which means of correct thinking, and
the science of the conditions of correct thinking,' and indeed,
he goes so far as to say (Syst. of Log., Introd., Sect. 7) : ' The
extension of logic as a science is determined by its necessities
as an art/ Strictly speaking, logic as a science is purely
theoretical, for the function of science as such is merely to
know. It is an organized system of knowledge, namely, an
organized system of the principles and conditions of correct
thinking. But because correct thinking is an art, it does not
follow that a knowledge of the methods and conditions of cor-
rect thinking is art, which would be a glaring case of fisTdftaaiz
e/C &Mo fsvos. The art-bearings of the science are given in the
normative character of its subject-matter. As a science logic
is descriptive and explanatory, that is, it describes and formu-
lates the norms of valid thought, although as science it is not
normative, save in the sense that the principles formulated in it
may be normatively or regulatively applied, in which case they
become precepts. What is principle in science becomes precept
in application, and it is only when technically applied that
principles assume a mandatory character. Validity is not
created by logic. Logic merely investigates and states the con-
ditions and criteria of validity, being in this reference a science
of evidence. In the very fact, however, that logic is normative
in the sense of describing and explaining the norms of correct
thinking, its practical or applied character is given. Its princi-
ples as known are science; its principles as applied are art.
There is, therefore, no reason to sunder these two things or to
call logic an art merely or a science merely ; for it is both when
regarded from different viewpoints, although one must insist on
the fact that the rules for practical guidance are, so far as the
science is concerned, quite ab extra. Logic, ethics, and ass-
thetics are all commonly (and rightly) called normative disci-
plines : they are all concerned with values and standards ; logic

RELA TIONS OF LOGIC. \ 7

with validity and evidence, or values for cognition ; ethics with
motives and moral quality in conduct, or values for volition ;
aesthetics with the standards of beauty, or values for apprecia-
tion and feeling. Yet none of them is or can be merely norma-
tive, or indeed as science normative at all ; if that were so, they
would not be bodies of organized knowledge, but bodies of
rules. They might be well-arranged codes of legislation on
conduct, fine art, and evidence, but not sciences. Strictly re-
garded, it is the descriptive and explanatory aspect of logic that
constitutes its scientific character, while it is the specific normative
aspect that constitutes its logical character. Values, whether
ethical or logical, without an examination and formulation of
their ground, relations, origin, and interconnection, would be
merely rules of thumb, popular phrases, or pastoral precepts.
The actual methodology of the sciences or applied logic is logic
as art.

II. Relation of logic to psychology .

The differentiation of logic and psychology in such way as
to be of practical value in the discussion of the disciplines has
always been a difficult matter. John Stuart Mill was disposed
to merge logic in psychology, and Hobhouse, his latest notable
apologete, draws no fixed distinction between psychology and
logic, merely saying that they have different centers of interest,
and that their provinces overlap. Lipps, in his Grundzitge
der Logik (p. 2), goes the length of saying that " Logic is a
psychological discipline, as certainly as knowledge occurs only
in the Psyche, and thought, which is developed in knowledge,
is a psychical event." Now, if we were to take such extreme
ground as this, then ethics, aesthetics, and pure mathematics
would become at once branches of psychology and not coordi-
nate disciplines with it, for volitions, the feelings of apprecia-
tion, and the reasoning of pure mathematics are psychical
events. Such a theory plainly carries us too far and would
involve us in confusion. That the demarcation between the
two disciplines is not a chasmic cleavage, but a line, and that,
too, an historically shifting line, is apparent from the foregoing
historical resume.

The four main phases of logical theory include : (i) the

1 8 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

concept (although some logicians begin with the judgment as
temporally prior in the evolution of language), (2) judgment,
(3) inference, (4) the methodology of the sciences.

The entire concern of logic is, indeed, with psychical proc-
esses, but with psychical processes regarded from a specific
standpoint, a standpoint different from that of psychology. In
the first place psychology in a certain sense is much wider than
logic, being concerned with the whole of psychosis as such,
including the feelings and will and the entire structure of cogni-
tion, whereas logic is concerned with the particular cognitive
processes enumerated above (concept, judgment, inference),
and that, too, merely from the point of view of validity and the
grounds of validity. In another sense psychology is narrower
than logic, being concerned purely with the description and
explanation of a particular field of phenomena, whereas logic is
concerned with the procedure of all the sciences and is practi-
cally related to them as their formulated method. The compass
and aims of the two disciplines are different; for while psy-
chology is in different references both wider and narrower than
logic, it is also different in the problems it sets itself, its aim
being to describe and explain the phenomena of mind in the
spirit of empirical science, whereas the aim of logic is only to
•explain and establish the laws of evidence and standards of
validity. Logic is, therefore, selective and particular in the
treatment of mental phenomena, whereas psychology is uni-
versal, that is, it covers the entire range of mental processes as
a phenomenalistic science ; logic dealing with definite elements
as a normative science. By this it is not meant that the terri-
tory of judgment and inference should be delivered from the
psychologist into the care of the logician ; through such a divi-
sion of labor both disciplines would suffer. The two disciplines
handle to some extent the same subjects, so far as names are
concerned ; but the essence of the logical problem is not
touched by psychology, and should not be mixed up with it, to
the confusion and detriment of both disciplines. The field of
psychology, as we have said, is the whole of psychical phe-
nomena ; the aim of individual psychology in the investigation
of its field is : (i) to give a genetic account of cognition, feel-

RQLA TIONS OF LOGIC. 19

ing, and will, or whatever be the elements into which conscious-
ness is analyzed ; (2) to explain their interconnections causally ;
(3) as a chemistry of mental life to analyze its complexes into
their simplest elements; (4) to explain the totality structurally
(or functionally) out of the elements ; (5) to carry on its investi-
gation and set forth its results as a purely empirical science;
(6) psychology makes no attempt to evaluate the processes of
mind either in terms of false and true, or good and bad. From
this description of the field and function of psychology, based
on the expressions of its modern exponents, it will be found
impossible to shelter logic under it as a subordinate discipline.
If one were to enlarge the scope of psychology to mean Rational
Psychology, in the sense which Professor Howison advocates
(PSYCH. REV., Vol. III., p. 652), such a subordination might be
possible, but it would entail the loss of all that the new psy-
chology has gained by the sharper delimitation of its sphere and
problems, and would carry us back to the position of Mill, who
appears to identify psychology with philosophy at large and
with metaphysics.

In contradistinction to the aims of psychology as described
in the foregoing, the sphere and problems of logic may be
summarily characterized as follows : (i) All concepts and judg-
ments are psychological complexes and processes and may be
genetically and structurally described ; that is the business of
psychology. They also have a meaning value, or objective
reference, that is, they may be correct or incorrect, congruous or
incongruous with reality. The meaning aspect of thought, or
its content as truth is the business of logic. This subject-mat-
ter is got by regarding a single aspect in the total psychological
complex. (2) Its aim is not to describe factual thought or the
whole of thought, or the natural processes of thought, but only
certain ideals of thinking, namely, the norms of correct think-
ing. Its object is not a datum, but an ideal. (3) While psy-
chology is concerned with the natural history of reasoning, logic
is concerned with the warrants of inferential reasoning. In the
terminology of Hamilton it is the nomology of discursive
thought. To use an often employed analogy, psychology is
the physics of thought ; logic an ethics of thought. (4) Logic

20 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

implies an epistemology or theory of cognition in so far as epis-
temology discusses the concept and judgment and their rela-
tions to the real world, and here is to be found its closest con-
nection with psychology. A purely formal logic, which is
concerned merely with the internal order of knowledge and
does not undertake to show how the laws of thought originate,
why they hold good as the measures of evidence, or in what
way they are applicable to concrete reality, would be as bar-
ren as scholasticism. (5) While logic thus goes back to epis-
temology for its bases and for the theoretical determination of
the interrelation of knowledge and truth, it goes forward in its
application to the practical service of the sciences as their meth-
odology. A part of its subject-matter is therefore the actual
procedure of the sciences, which it attempts to organize into
systematic statements as principles and formulas. This body
of rules given implicitly or explicitly in the workings and struc-
ture of the special sciences, consisting in classification, analysis,
experiment, induction, deduction, nomenclature, etc., logic
regards as a concrete deposit of inferential experience. It ab-
stracts these principles from the content and method of the
sciences, describes and explains them, erects them into a syste-
matic methodology, and so creates the practical branch of real
logic. Formal logic, therefore, according to the foregoing ac-
count, would embrace the questions of the internal congruity
and self-consistency of thought and the schematic arrangement
of judgments to insure formally valid conclusions ; real logic
would embrace the epistemological questions of how knowledge
is related to reality, and how it is built up out of experience, on
the one hand, and the methodical procedure of science on the
other. The importance of mathematical logic seems to be
mainly in the facilitation of logical expression through symbols.
It is rather with the machinery of the science than with its con-
tent and real problem that the logical algorithm or calculus is
concerned. In these condensed paragraphs sufficient has been
said, I think, to show that logic and psychology should be re-
garded as coordinate disciplines ; for their aims and subject-
matter differ too widely to subordinate the former under the
latter without confusion to both.

RELATIONS OF LOGIC. 21

I wish now to add a brief note on the relation of logic to an-
other discipline.

III. Relation of logic to metaphysics.

As currently expounded, logic either abuts immediately on
the territory of metaphysics at certain points or is entirely ab-
sorbed in it as an integral part of the metaphysical subject-mat-
ter. I regard the former view as not only the more tenable
theoretically, but as practically advantageous for working pur-
poses, and necessary for an intelligible classification of the
philosophical disciplines. The business of metaphysics, as I
understand it, is with the nature of reality ; logic is concerned
with the nature of validity, or with the relations of the elements
of thought within themselves (self-consistency) and with the re-
lations of thought to its object (real truth), but not with the na-
ture of the objective world or reality as such. Further, meta-
physics is concerned with the unification of the totality of
knowledge in the form of a scientific cosmology ; logic is con-
cerned merely with the inferential and methodological processes
whereby this result is reached. The former is a science of
content ; the latter is a science of procedure and relations.
Now, inasmuch as procedure and relations apply to some real-
ity and differ with different forms of reality, logic necessitates
in its implications a theory of being, but such implications are
in nowise to be identified with its subject matter or with its own
proper problems. Their consideration falls within the sphere of
metaphysics or a broadly conceived epistemology, whose busi-
ness it is to solve the ultimate questions of subject and object,
thoMght and thing, mind and matter, that are implied and
pointed to rather than formulated by logic. Inasmuch as the
logical judgment says something about something, the scientific
impulse drives us to investigate what the latter something ulti-
mately is ; but this is not necessary for logic, nor is it one of
logic's legitimate problems, any more than it is the proper busi-
ness of the physicist to investigate the mental implications of
his scientific judgments and hypotheses or the ultimate nature
of the theorizing and perceiving mind, or the problem of causal-
ity in relation to his world of matter and motion, although a
general scientific interest may drive him to seek a solution of

22 WILLIAM A. HAMMOND.

these ultimate metaphysical questions. Scientifically the end of
logic and of every discipline is in itself; it is a territorial unity,
and its government is administered with a unitary aim. Logic is
purely a science of evidential values, not a science of content (in
the meaning of particular reality, as in the special sciences, or
of ultimate reality, as in metaphysics) ; its sole aim and purpose,
as I conceive it, is to formulate the laws and grounds of evi-
dence, the principles of method, and the conditions and forms
of inferential thinking. When it has done this, it has, as a
single science, done its whole work. When one looks at the
present tendencies of logical theory, one is inclined to believe
that the discipline is in danger of becoming an ' Allerleiivis-
senschaftj whose vast undefined territory is the land of * Weiss-
nichtwo? The strict delimitation of the field and problems of
science is demanded in the interest of a serviceable division of
scientific labor and in the interest of an intelligible classification
of the accumulated products of research.

SOME EFFECTS OF INCENTIVES ON WORK AND

FATIGUE.

BY WILUAM R. WRIGHT,
University of Michigan.

These experiments, consisting of three series, were con-
ducted for the purpose of comparing quantitatively the amounts
of work that were accomplished by the subject working under
two different mental attitudes ; one, that of mere doing because
the subject was told to work as hard as he could and as long as
he could with no idea of securing any specified result; the
other, that of doing a prescribed task as long as strength en-
dured ; or, in other words, the one consisted in working to get
tired, while the other consisted in procuring in connection with
each exertion an actual result that could be seen and appre-
ciated. With the first task all incentive, as, the watching of
the instrument or the keeping track of his progress by counting
strokes, was denied the subject ; whereas under the second con-
dition the subject was not only permitted to watch his strokes
but was also stimulated to action part of the time by his being
requested to count his strokes.

APPARATUS.

The apparatus used was Cattell's spring ergograph, the
index of which marked the record of movements upon smoked
paper on the revolving drum of an ordinary kymograph, a sta-
tionary support for the lower arm of the subject, and a metro-
nome regulated to strike twice a second.

EXPERIMENTS.

The subject worked with his left hand. The fingers of the
hand were placed under the base of the ergograph, and the
carriage of the instrument was moved downward by the thumb
once each second. The movements were timed by the beats of
the metronome. One experiment consisted of the amount of

24 WILLIAM R. WRIGHT.

work done during the time the subject was able to move his
thumb continuously.

Sharp pains, or cramps, in the muscles, muscular fatigue
for the instant, always brought the subject's movements to a
standstill, and this was invariably taken to be the end of an ex-
periment, although by trial it was found that a rest of one or
two seconds at such a time would so relieve the subject that he
could resume work with considerable vigor for another period.

FIRST SERIES.

The first series of experiments included two classes. The
nature of the first class, the no incentive class, constant through-
out all the series, has already been fully described in the general
description of the purpose of the experiments. To furnish a
definite motive for the second class, blocks varying in thickness
were inserted under the carriage of the ergograph. The sub-
ject was required to push merely to the block and to exert him-
self to see how many times he could reach it. After failing to
touch the block he still pressed as closely to it as he could until
strength failed.

This series was conducted between the hours of two (2) and
four (4) p. m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and were continued
during the first half of the college year of 1903-4. Three ex-
periments per day were the rule with each subject excepting the
experimenter, who for a few days worked double. On the
average a rest of four minutes was taken between two experi-
ments, and but one class of experiments was given in a day. A
part of the time one class began the week's work and then the
other was given first, so that the two classes might profit equally
provided there was any advantage to be derived from the longer
rest from Thursday to the following Tuesday.

No clamps were used to hold the lower arm. The experi-
menter grasped the wrist of the subject to keep it steady and
thus to help the subject to confine his movements to his thumb
alone. Much introductory practice was given to enable the
subject to resist the inclination to use his whole arm each time
the thumb and wrist muscles began to grow painful through the
continued use.

SOME EFFECTS OF INCENTIVES.

Subjects. — Four persons, all experienced as laboratory re-
agents, acted as subjects, Miss Killen (K.), Mr. Shepard (S.),
Dr. Pillsbury (P.), and the experimenter (W.).

Results. — In computing results the length of each stroke
of the index of the ergograph as it was recorded on the sheet of
the kymograph was measured in millimeters. These lengths
were then read in kilograms in accordance with the scale of the
spring marked on the ergograph. The length in millimeters
of each stroke times one half its reading in kilograms-since
the spring started from zero in each movement — represents
the work of each stroke in kilo-millimeters, the unit of value for
all the experiments, and the sum of the stroke values gives the
total work of each experiment.

TABLE I.

CLASSES, i = No INCENTIVE ; 2 = INCENTIVE. UNIT = KILO-MILLIMETER.

Subject.

Class.

Experi-
ments.

Total Work.

Average.

Mean
Variation.

Gain per cent.

24
26

23554
26743

981,4
1028.5

308.4
341.8

4-8

I
2

II
13

39431
66187

3584.6
509L3

729.1
1076.6

120341
160890

3760.6
4348.3

916.8
991.1

15-6

I
2

6
5

24535
20878

4085.1
4175.6

993-8
309.6

2.2

A comparison of the results given in the table above shows
for all the subjects a gain in the work performed under the con-
ditions of the second class, the interpretation of which we would
state thus : the difference in the mental attitudes of the subject
under the different conditions irriposed upon him in the perfor-
mance of his tasks affected in no uncertain manner the results
accomplished by him ; or, as a more general deduction, in seek-
ing the greatest results in the amounts of work to be secured by
bodily exertion, the mental attitude of the subject towards his
work should be taken into consideration.

During the spring of 1903, Mr. Sherman, a student in the
Michigan laboratory, made use of the ergograph in testing
fatigue, and as his results have never been published and can

26 WILLIAM R. WRIGHT.

be turned to account in connection with my problem, I take the
liberty of including his final averages within my report. The
subjects were Mr. Sherman (Sh.) and Mr. Hayden (H.)

The problem on which he set out was to prove the influence
of the back-stroke from the sensory endings in muscle and
tendons of the moving member during motion upon the amount
of work that could be accomplished. It was assumed that the
motor output in attempted contraction when no motion resulted
would be less than when there was actual movement. It was
further assumed that the amount of the reduction in work per-
formed could be measured by partially fatiguing a muscle in
each of these methods during the same number of contractions,
and then using the amount of work required to induce complete
fatigue as an indication of the work previously performed.

However in the earlier series of experiments approximately
the same amount of work that could be recorded was performed
under each condition, first working freely and then working
down to a block that checked the movement in its course, and
then the amount of work required to complete the fatigue was
measured. This was sufficient to show the inapplicability of
the method first suggested for it was found that the block acted
as an incentive, so that more work was recorded in the first
forty or sixty contractions where that was used. For S.
9.62 x io8 as compared with 9.11 x io8 and for H. 9.38 x io8
and 9.31 x io8. Still more anomalously it was discovered that
after doing more work with the incentive than without there was
less fatigue in the former as was shown by the fact that in the re-
maining forty strokes work amounting to only 3.66 x io8 could
be performed where there had been no incentive while after
work with incentive 4.81 x io8 ergs were required to complete
the fatigue for S. and for H. the values were 3.72 x io8 and
4.27 x io8 respectively.

Table II. shows the complete records for work with and
without incentive :

Mr. Sherman's results thus, while ostensibly obtained for
another purpose, substantiate my conclusions recorded above.
Each of his subjects, working under a definite mental stimulus
as opposed to work of the * no incentive ' class, experiences less
fatigue and accomplishes more work.

SOME EFFECTS OF INCENTIVES.

TABLE II.
CLASSES, i = No INCENTIVE; 2 = INCENTIVE, AMOUNTS IN ERGS.

Subject.

Class.

Experiments.

Average.

Sh.

I
2

12.77 X io»

14-435 X I0«

9
9

13-07 Xio»
13.65 Xio»

SECOND SERIES.

The second series with the same original purpose in view
was conducted during the last half of the same year. The ex-
periments were of three types of requirements : The first class,
* no incentive,' corresponded in all details with the first class of
the first series ; the second class consisted of 30 strokes, each
18 mm. in length, to touch the block, and then * no incentive '
type for the rest of the experiment ; the third class made use
of the same block throughout the entire experiment, but the
subject was required to press to the block and to continue to
press hard as long as time would permit and still enable him to
keep his strokes in unison of movement with the signals of the
metronome moving as above. When the subject could no
longer reach the block he continued with the longest possible
strokes to the end of his strength.

During all the experiments of this series the lower arm of
the subject was not only supported in a stationary rest but was
also firmly clamped at the wrist and just below the elbow. It
was found that the clamping of the arm in one rigid position
made a more uniform condition in the use of the same muscles
with each experiment than was possible in the first series, and
at the same time the subject was freed from the constant watch-
fulness necessary to inhibit the use of the whole arm when only
a part was wanted.

The subjects were S. and W., and the apparatus was the
same as in the first series, excepting the arm support, which in
this series had clamping devices. The experiments were con-
ducted at 9 o'clock, A. M., on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Three
experiments of the same class constituted a day's work for each
subject, and a rest of ten minutes was given between experi-
ments.

WILLIAM R. WRIGHT.

The amounts of work were computed as above and are ex-
pressed in the kilo-millimeter unit. No results were worked up
until the series had been completed. Even the results of the
first series were still unknown to the subjects.

TABLE III.

Subject.

Class.

Experiments.

Total Work.

Average.

Mean Variation.

103119

6065

1096

85108

5006

784

5I907

2883

294

100813

6300

2004

109500

6083

1636

71643

3980

1283

A simple comparison of the average amounts of work done
under each class of experiments in this series will signify noth-
ing, as there are influencing factors entering that are not meas-
ured quantitatively, e. g., the amount of work done in the
continued -push of the third class, and also the mental effect
produced by the pace set in the beginning of each effort of the
second class by the thirty strokes of a different length. The
only comparison that can be made quantitatively is one between
the first class and the third class, and this comparison must be
based upon the assumption that each stroke of the third class
together with its * continued push ' equals the amount of work
done in a corresponding stroke of the first class. Thus by
ascertaining the number of strokes 18 mm. and more in length
in each class and the amounts of work in addition to these we
are able to make a comparison. Table IV. gives the results.

TABLE IV.

Subject

Class.

Experi-
ments.

Strokes.

Additional
Work.

Average
Strokes.

Average Addi-
tional Work.

I
3

17
18

1098
II94

9039
3570

64.58
66.33

53L7
198.33

i
3

16
18

1073

1713

4861
2270

67.06
95-16

303.81
126.11

Putting these average results on the same basis by reducing
the increase of strokes of the third class over those of the first
class to additional work, we may state for both subjects the dif-

SOME EFFECTS OF INCENTIVES. 29

ferences in attainments in the two classes of rxpi-riments in
terms of additional work alone. For S. these amounts are,
ist class 531.7, 3d class 269.2; for W., ist class, 303.81, 3d
class 1,264.16. S. thus performed on the average for each
experiment 262.5 k.-mm. more work in the ' no incentive ' class
than he did in the third class, just the opposite result from that
of his first series of experiments. W.'s results, an average of
960.35 k.-mm., his increase in the third class, agree with his
first records.

Some attention was given to introspections and these should
enter into our further consideration of the results of this series.

S. : " I may as well stop. I'm not doing anything." In
reality, he was still working.

" Pain ensues, then usually there is the feeling that I can't go
any farther, can't accomplish anything even if I should try."
" Couldn't reach it [block] any longer. When I couldn't hit it,
I wanted to quit, no ambition to continue." " I prefer blocks
because a definite record can be made. In the other experi-
ment [' no incentive '] I'm doing nothing in particular."

W.'s introspections agree closely with those of S. W. " pre-
fers blocks. There is more of a feeling of satisfaction in doing
the work. It seems to amount to something."

The quantitative results of both S. and W. in the first series
of experiments, and for W. in this comparison of the first and
the third class of the second series, agree with the mental attitude
of * satisfaction,' and ' preference,' shown by the introspections.
S.'s results in the second series alone disagree, yet this disagree-
ment emphasizes the influence of a mental factor stronger than
those just noted. A glance at Table IV. will show that S. after
leaving the strokes of 18 mm. in length, the block in the third
class, performed much more additional work in the first class
than he did in the third class. (This is also true for W. and
but for the fact that he had more extra strokes in the third class
than S. had, W.'s results would have felt more strongly this
influence.) Such a discrepancy in S.'s closing strokes plainly
shows that because S., as he states in his introspections, « couldn't
reach the block any longer,' he fatigued sooner than he otherwise
would.

30 WILLIAM R. WRIGHT.

The average results of the experiments of the first and the
second class will not admit of mere quantitative comparison,
yet in the light of the introspections given some interesting de-
ductions we think can be gleaned from an attempt to make such
a comparison. From a physical standpoint there is no reason
why the work of the second class should not at least equal that
of the first class, and in accordance with the results of the first
series of experiments there is a mental factor entering in favor
of making the second class exceed in amount the first class.
But in reality there is for S. a loss of 1059 k. -mm. an^ ^or W*
217 k.-mm. with each experiment of the second class. The
sudden dropping from doing a definite task to * doing nothing in
particular' caused both subjects to weaken in their total efforts.
Through the continued use of a stimulus not sufficient to call
forth their strongest efforts the subjects accepted the same as a
standard, and when they were deprived of this standard objec-
tively, its subjective influence still persisted to such an extent
that the total accomplishments of the subjects were materially
lessened.

THIRD SERIES.

The third series was carried on during the first semester of
the year of 1904-5 and is the outcome of questionings about
the value of the deductions of the second series, particularly
those connected with S.'s results.

The same apparatus as in the second series was used, and
three groups of experiments were performed. Within each
group there were two classes, first, ' no incentive ' and second
with incentive. That the benefits arising from practice may be
evenly distributed in our comparison of results the classes of
each group were kept distinct from the other groups. The
incentive in each group was furnished by a line drawn on the
recording smoked sheet, 17 mm. from the top of the stroke for
the first group, 24 mm. from the top for the second group, and
completely beyond the reach of the subject for the third group.
In working with incentive (2) the subject was instructed to watch
his work, count his strokes, put forth his utmost effort with each
stroke, and, when his work in the case of the first and second
groups receded to the line he was to endeavor to reach the line

SOME EFFECTS OF INCENTIVES.

as often as possible. Instructions for the first class were the
same as in the beginning of the first series. The number of ex-
periments each day was regulated about the same as in the pre-
ceding series, and the times of day once fixed for each subject
were kept as near constant as possible. Classes of experiments
were also alternated to equally distribute advantages of rest.
Between each two experiments a rest of five minutes was given.
The subjects were Dr. Pillsbury (P.), Mr. Shepard (S.),
Mr. Bayley (B.), Mr. McSherry (Me.), and Mr. Schottstaedt
(Sc.) P. and S. were acquainted with the results of the first
and the second series, but the other subjects were to the end of
the experiments ignorant of their real purpose. All results were
kept from the subjects, and computations are given in the kilo-
millimeter unit.

TABLE V.
FIRST GROUP OF THIRD SERIES.

Subject.

Class.

Experi-
ments.

Total Work.

Average.

Mean
Variation.

Gain per cent.

I
2

9
9

3^95
53307

3521.6
5923

455-4
I45I.I

68 +

I
2

9
9

62817
76695

6979.6
8521.6

832.6
II36.2

22 +

9
9

50036
' 57261

5559-5
6362.3

799-2
887.4

14 +

Me.

I
2

9
9

32076
46850

3564
5205.5

895.1
1468.3

46 +

Sc.

8
8

50139
67961

6267.3
8495.1

I563.I
3849.6

35 +

TABLE VI.
SECOND GROUP OF THIRD SERIES.

Subject.

Class.

Experi-
ments.

Total Work.

Average.

Mean

Variation.

Gain per cent.

I
2

9
9

38857
60014

4317.4
6668.2

612.2
655-1

54 +

I
2

9
9

62373
65410

6930.3
7267.7

799-1
494-4

4-8 +

I
2

9
9

65271
76878

7252.2
8542

949-2
905.7

17 +

WILLIAM R. WRIGHT.

TABLE VII.
THIRD GROUP OF THIRD SERIES.

Subject.

Class.

Experi-
ments.

Total Work.

Average.

Mean
Variation.

Gain per cent.

I
2

13
13

79838
104359

6141.3
8027.6

1463
1674.1

30 +

I
2

16
16

I5I529
154327

9470.5
9645.4

1066.4
1087

1.8 +

I
2

10
10

69238
77359

6923.8
7735-9

659
725.1

n +

Me.

I
2

6
6

36710
34346

6118.3
5724.3

790
770.6

6 —

The first group of this third series corresponds in the condi-
tions of requirement to the first series of experiments, and the
results in Table V., show conclusions agreeing with the first
series, the gain on the side influenced by the added stimulus in
the change of mental attitude toward the work ranging from 14
per cent, on the part of B. to 68 per cent, for P.

The second and the third group may also be viewed from
the same standpoint and, with the exception of Me. in the third
group, all subjects show gains on the side of the added mental
stimulus, and thus assist in strengthening our first conclusion,
which it must be remembered has been an underlying assump-
tion in our deductions of the second series. But, as to the real
purport of the third series, /. £., how far are we justified in our
assumptions concerning the influences that caused S. in the
third class, the push to the block and a continued push, and
both S. and W. in the second class, 30 strokes with block and
then 'no incentive* to the end, of the second series of experi-
ments to depart from the result expected in the light of the first
series?

It will be noted that the differences of conditions existing
among the three groups of the third series of experiments are
not of quality but of degree. The stimulus of the second classes
sets a task more difficult of attainment as the groups progress
from the first to the third, so that in the third group it is impos-
sible for the subject to fully accomplish what he is told to do.
Each subject realized that in this class he never touched the line
yet each time at the beginning of the experiment he put forth

i UK PSYCHUI.IM-.U-AI, RKVII-AV, XIII., 1906.

PI.VTI: i.

I1UVUI1MIM

SOME EFFECTS OF INCENTIVES. 33

an effort with the determined purpose to reach the line. This
factor the experimenter found upon inquiry remained present
in consciousness throughout the third group, although it was
desired to have the subject's mental attitude entirely dominated
by the knowledge that his task was an impossibility in the one
particular, and also to have his experiment performed under
this condition alone. It must not be lost sight of that the pres-
ence of this other factor will cause an increase in the gains of
the third group on the side of the extra mental stimulus, and
that, if a decrease in amounts of gain from the first group to the
third group can be shown in spite of this influence for an
increase in the third group, of so much more worth are the con-
clusions to be drawn.

S. has a gain of 22 per cent, on the side of added mental
stimulus in the first group. In the second group this gain falls
to 4.8 per cent, and in the third group it is further reduced to
1.8 per cent. Here is shown a decrease of 78 per cent, between
the first and the second group and a decrease of 62 per cent,
from the second to the third group, or a drop of 91 per cent,
from the first to the third group. (See Tables V., VI. and VII.)

This series of experiments so far as objective conditions are
concerned admit of quantitative comparison and the factor of
mental stimulus remains constant throughout, but S.'s results
plainly show, what we in a measure assumed in the second
series, that, on account of the added mental stimulus containing
the element of impossibility, S. failed to secure as great results
as when no such factor existed. In other words, S.'s * couldn't
reach it any longer, I wanted to quit, no ambition to continue,'
his disturbing factor in the second series, becomes a fact and is
shown to exert a positive influence toward decreasing his effici-
ency. Were S. alone in displaying this tendency, it might be
argued that he may have been influenced in this last series by
a foreknowledge of the results of the previous experiments, but
a decrease in the same direction is shown by all the subjects.
With Me. it is so positive in its nature that he loses all the in-
fluence of the special stimulus in the third group and actually
performs six per cent, more work on the other, the ' no incen-
tive,' side.

34 WILLIAM R. WRIGHT.

Ten experiments, independent of the above series and con-
ducted with Me. alone, show so clearly the immediate effect of
mental stimulus that I insert them here as a matter of mere added
interest. A line 17 mm. from the top of the stroke of the ergo-
graph was drawn on the carbon sheet. Five of the experiments
were of the * no incentive ' class throughout, the remaining five
were of the ' no incentive ' class until the experimenter was posi-
tive that Me., if left to his own course in his movements, would
not have reached the line again. Then Me. was told to look
at his work, to press to the line and to hold to it in succeeding
movements as long as possible. The changed mental stimulus
affected thus only a small part of each of the five experiments.
A comparison of these five with the five of the * no incentive '
class showed a gain 17 -f per cent, in favor of the first, but a
comparison of just the amount of work done under the influence
of the suggestions or directions made to the subject by the ex-
perimenter with the corresponding portion of work of the other
five experiments, that is, the work done in the * no incentive l
class after the subject's stroke had left the line, showed a gain
of 339 Per cent-> tne measure of the influence of the new mental
stimulus.

SUMMARY.

We may say that at least three conclusions may be drawn
from the results of these experiments.

1. The subject accomplished more work when working
under the mental stimulus of having a set task to be performed
than he did when working without a definite aim.

2. A known impossibility to accomplish the required condi-
tions tends to decrease the subject's total results.

3. The fatigue accompanying work is not so great when the
subject is working under the direct stimulus of a definite aim
notwithstanding the fact that he has at the same time produced
an increase in his amount of work.1

1 The MS. of this article was received May 4, 1905. — KD.

DISCUSSION.

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS.

To anyone acquainted with recent psychological literature,
an attempt at a critical definition or reconstruction of such terms
as mental, conscious, and psychical, taken in a purely empiri-
cal and scientific sense, will not seem inopportune. There is
no well-defined theory as to the precise limits of their meaning.
Data, however, are available which offer a basis for at least a
tentative mode of conception somewhat less open to objection
than many that now pass current. Such apparent normal phe-
nomena as dreams, mental lapses, absent-mindedness, the sup-
posedly subliminal sensations, action upon suggestion, the sense
of familiarity and the familiar experiences of trying to remem-
ber, the so-called subconscious phenomena of hypnotism, post-
hypnotic suggestion, and double personality should certainly
furnish material for some intelligible hypothesis as to the nature
of consciousness and its relation to, or its distinction from, purely
automatic processes.

In the inquiry here proposed, we have no interest in any
philosophical or quasi-philosophical question. We wish simply
to offer such a conception of the nature of consciousness, the
term of ordinary psychological parlance, as will render intel-
ligible such happenings as are mentioned above. All that we
shall have to say will have no bearing upon the question of
consciousness as an ultimate entity. In fact, we are quite pre-
pared to agree with Professor James that in this sense it does
not exist.

In its briefest form of statement, the problem is that of
stating the relation between the conscious and the so-called sub-
conscious, or unconscious, of seeking a conception which will
organize the well-known facts of their manifestation. It is
recognized at the outset that the best statement which can be
offered can be no more than a working hypothesis, the validity
of which can be established neither by an examination of the
35

3 6 DISCUSSION.

brain itself nor by introspection. That neurology cannot fur-
nish direct evidence goes without saying, and introspective evi-
dence is impossible because, by definition, one of the elements
to be considered is beyond the pale of introspection. If it could
be so examined, the problem would cease to be. But even if
direct verification is impossible, a working hypothesis is legiti-
mate for even the most exacting experimentalist. Perhaps the
ideal course would be to frame no hypotheses which cannot be
directly proved. The fact, however, that we do make just such
assumptions implicitly, if we avoid them explicitly, should be
sufficient excuse for what is here proposed. There is a ten-
dency on the part of psychologists to be somewhat chary of the
subconscious, as if a good deal that passes under that category
is open to suspicion. Certain phenomena are discounted, be-
cause to accept them fully seems to lead to dangerous conse-
quences. The utterly unscientific and in the highest degree
fanciful theories of a subconscious mind with extraordinary
powers, an apparent recrudescence of the savage notion of the
soul, which have of late years been advanced by certain pseudo-
psychologists, have made us fearful of going too far. It is,
however, because the psychologist has had no clearly scientific
theory of these phenomena, that he has often in his own state-
ments given ground and even authority for just the extreme
views he wishes to avoid.

Let us note in the first place the outcome of some recent
discussions of the subconscious. Professor Jastrow, in his
article 'The Status of the Subconscious,'1 attempts chiefly to
relate what he regards as authentic subconscious happenings to
the facts of ordinary waking consciousness. He refers to the
well known phenomena of subliminal sensations, holds that the
subconscious is analogous to the normal dream consciousness,
and, in general, maintains that the most pronounced subcon-
scious phenomena are really of the same species as our common
mental lapses, cases of absentmindedness and of habit. We get
no clue from his discussion as to just how he conceives the re-
lation between clear consciousness and these subliminal events.
The net outcome is that there are certain occurrences which

1 The American Journal of Psychology, Vol. XIV., July-Sept., 1903.

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS. 37

may be called subconscious and which are not objectively dif-
ferent from the events of ordinary conscious experience. Of
course the problem still remains of how the existence of these
facts of common experience and the supplementary ones of
kindred nature brought to light by the experimentalist affect
our general theory of consciousness.

Professor Stratton l also holds to the theory of habit, neural
and mental, as furnishing the safest explanation for most cases
of the so-called subconscious. He holds that there is insuffi-
cient evidence in the case of memory for the supposition that
ideas can persist as a low degree of the activity characteristic
of consciousness, and that the past must be thought of as influ-
encing the present through some sort of neural or mental dis-
positions. Thus, "The former acts themselves are dead and
gone, and what remains is not even a pale image or copy of
them, but * * * the person in enacting them formed a habit or
disposition by which such acts could as often as he pleased be
reenacted, but never literally preserved." As to the phenom-
ena of the threshold, he feels that the evidence is insufficient
for subliminal sensations, but with reference to the discriminative
threshold, it is somewhat more convincing. His discussion
need not be repeated here. We are concerned rather with his
conclusion which is as follows : " The results are not in favor
of unconscious ideas, but rather of unconscious materials out of
which conscious ideas arise. They lead us to acknowledge
that there are indiscernible occurrences in the mind of a very
definite and non-mythical character, .comings and goings of dim
sensations, subtle variations in the strength and the quality of
certain constituents, which are sufficient to destroy the equilib-
rium and produce transformations in the whole mental state."1

To the present writer there is much ambiguity in this last
statement. How shall the clause that the evidence is against
unconscious ideas be reconciled with the following one that
* there are indiscernible occurrences in the mind of a very defi-
nite and non-mythical character * * * dim sensations, etc.?
We may well agree with what he says regarding unconscious

1 Experimental Psychology and Culture, p. 74.
*Ibid., p. 92.

3 8 DISCUSSION.

ideas for the expression itself is meaningless unless we take ideas
to mean something quite different from what they are ordinarily
supposed to be. Suppose, however, that the very essence of the
idea is not that it is conscious, that it is an entity of some sort, a
psychic something if we please, which may or may not be con-
scious, but which may in any case remain an idea. Upon what
sort of evidence would such a theory of ideas rest? Manifestly
not upon introspection and if not upon that, what remains ? Cer-
tainly there is no way for the observation of another to furnish
proof. The greatest refinement of the means of observing
and testing can reveal only more and more refined physical
processes.

But notwithstanding the first part of his statement as quoted
above, Professor Stratton seems to hold to a belief in something
that is psychical, or mental, and yet unconscious, for he says
we are led « to acknowledge that there are indiscernible occur-
rences in * * * dim sensations,' etc. Thus if there are not un-
conscious ideas we are at least led to infer that there is at any
rate something psychical out of which ideas are formed, shreds
of ideas, as it were. For what else can occurrences in the
mind be if not something psychical or mental? The apparent
ambiguity in Professor Stratton's statement is typical of much
of the present thought upon these topics. There certainly are
activities and events that may be called subliminal. The prob-
lem is' as to how they shall be conceived and their relation to
consciousness be stated.

Dr. Boris Sidis in his recent work, Multiple Personality ',
suggests the most thoroughgoing answer in terms of his theory
of * moments consciousness.' His thought, in brief, seems to
be that one's psychic life at any time is made up of several mo-
ments (of) consciousness of varying degrees of intensity. Each
of these moments has a definite center of interest with various
contributing elements organized about it. A moment conscious-
ness is fundamentally a system, within which are synthetized
various psychic states.1 Is the moment (of) consciousness to be
conceived as something over and above the psychic states syn-
thetized? He says explicitly that 'the psychic individuality

1 Multiple Personality, p. 231.

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS. 39

cannot be regarded as a series of independent physical events,'1
but that it is made up of psychic events, which are unconscious
until organized into the * moment consciousness.' It is further
held that * a moment consciousness must not be considered as
something apart from its content,' that it exists wherever and
whenever psychic states are synthetized ; it is the synthetized
psychic material.2 Apparently then, he also believes in the
existence of a psychic material previous to its appearance in
consciousness. Dr. Sidis then proceeds to show that various
subconscious activities, the phenomena of double personality,
etc., may be conceived in terms of the emergence of one or
another system of psychical elements. The system of moment
consciousness may be really unconscious in the ordinary sense
of the word for the author is careful to distinguish between
consciousness and self-consciousness. There is a self-con-
sciousness threshold beneath which * moments consciousness '
may still exist. There are a good many passages that seem
clearly to indicate a belief in a psychical substratum beneath
self-consciousness.3 Thus the author in one place speaks of
* the dissociation and disaggregation of systems of central neural
elements with their concomitant psychic systems or moments
consciousness.' Again, * In the first cycle of multiple con-
sciousness none of the moments are well organized, each of the
leading functioning moments can maintain itself above the
threshold of personality only a short time.'4 " The higher
moments, on account of their absence during the state of disag-
gregation, have no memory for the experiences of the lower
moments. A dissociated moment consciousness can remember
only its own experiences."5 "When the higher moment of
self-consciousness becomes disaggregated and a lower type of
moment takes its place, a break occurs between the two moments,
the experience of the lower moment is not transmitted to the
higher moment." 6

Dr. Sidis' theory of consciousness as a synthetizing activity
is most significant, as is also his contention that different organ-

1 Ibid., p. 231. 2 Ibid., p. 232, italics mine.

*Ibid.t p. 338. * Ibid., p. 358.

* Ibid., p. 307. 6 Ibid., p. 307, 8.

40 DISCUSSION.

izations of neural elements may exist in relative independence.
We shall take issue with him on the point as to whether there
can coexist more than one center, or moment of consciousness,
and further, whether there is a psychic substratum to self-con-
sciousness, for it is to be remembered that he distinguishes be-
tween consciousness and self-consciousness.

We wish to ask, first of all, whether, assuming that some
sort of neural activity is always present with conscious proc-
esses, it is also necessary to assume that wherever there is neu-
ral activity there must also accompany it some sort of dim con-
sciousness. Marshall, in his Instinct and Reason, makes such
an assumption. Every neurosis has its psychosis, according to
him. Whether he means by this a dim fragment of conscious-
ness, it is hard to say. If he does not mean this, but distin-
guishes between the psychic and the conscious, his whole
position is a mere conceptual fiction. The same is true
regarding the distinction, above referred to, between conscious-
ness and self-consciousness. We know in ourselves only con-
scious states, and these are also states of self-consciousness in
so far as they are conscious at all. We hold that is meaning-
less to use consciousness in any other sense than self-conscious-
ness. If there is little of the one, there is, in proportion, little
of the other. In the nervous systems of others we can conceiv-
ably observe only physical processes. Where, then, is there
any evidence for psychic states, other than those which are con-
sciously experienced?

Dr. Sidis, as well as Marshall, holds that there is something
psychical in even the simplest forms of animal life, and that
this is an elementary form of consciousness of the same type as
that consciousness of man which is not self-consciousness. The
question may well be raised as to whether this view is not as
extreme as that of Descartes, with which it is contrasted, viz :
that all animals are merely automata. What if we cannot tell
definitely where consciousness ends in the animal series, are
we then forced to conclude that it is at least dimly present in
all forms of animal life? To be sure, this assumption is not
precisely equivalent to that of Marshall's, to which reference
was made above, namely, that every nerve element when active

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS. 41

has its accompanying psychosis. According to this latter view,
complete consciousness would apparently be the sum, or result-
ant, of the activity of all these psychic atoms. On such an
hypothesis the problem would arise of how, if there are given
to start with discrete elements within a single organism, there
can be built up the unity of intention and purpose with con-
sciousness certainly means to most of us. The objection to
Marshall's theory, is, in a word, that the psychic atom is
purely a conceptual fiction, which may be a legitimate fiction,
but, if such, it must prove its worth in explaining the data fur-
nished by introspection. Here it is conspicuously deficient in a
most vital particular, viz., in that consciousness, as we know it,
is something unitary. It certainly conveys no suggestion of
being composed of discrete elements.

Dr. Sidis, in his theory of the ' moment consciousness ' ap-
parently avoids this difficulty by defining consciousness as a
synthetizing activity, or as the * synthetized psychic material,'
but no matter how synthetized or organized, the elements seem
to be still upon our hands. The analogy of the physical or-
ganism will make our objection clearer. The various mem-
bers and organs are organized into one body, but the parts are
still there objectively. The moment consciousness is, however,
a unique experience, the parts of which, if there are such, are
transformed by being organized and no longer exist as elements.
If such is the case, we assert again that the psychic element is
a fiction, the necessity of which in our conception of conscious-
ness has not as yet been proved.

Aside from the particular objection, urged above, to the
theory of psychic elements, both it and the other theory, that
all forms of animal life have some degree of consciousness, are
to be criticized for conceiving consciousness as something ex-
isting -per se, independently of any functional relation to action.
That is, just because there is a neural process, it is assumed
that there must be a conscious or a psychical process. There
is certainly good reason to believe that there is automatic nervous
action in ourselves, and, moreover, consciousness, as far as we
are concerned, does seem to have such a direct functional re-
lation to action. Is it not then much more in accord with the

42 DISCUSSION.

facts of experience to assume that neural action is accompanied
by psychical processes only when there is some necessity for
them?

In the theory, which we wish here to outline, there is as-
sumed, as a background, a continuum of neural processes and
tensions. Such a condition certainly exists in the complex
nervous system of the human being. Like a delicately ad-
justed mechanism, it is constantly affected in varying degrees by
the infinitely varied changes in its environment. There is no
reason for supposing that much of this activity of our nervous
systems is in any appreciable degree organized or unified. It
is simply a great mass of more or less isolated responses to all
kinds of stimuli. If there is any grouping in these responses,
it must be along the lines of preexisting instinct or acquired
habit. Now, it is to be noted, under some circumstances con-
sciousness appears in connection with this mass of neural dis-
turbance. As already stated, we are not here concerned with
any theory of the ultimate relation existing between conscious-
ness and matter, nor with the philosophical problem as to
whether consciousness is an existence or not ; we simply note
the empirical fact that sometimes there is consciousness and
sometimes there is not, and we are seeking to define the ob-
jective conditions of its appearance.

As a working conception, consciousness may be held to be
definitely related to the facilitation of reactions and adjustments
required by the life process but which the automatic arrange-
ments of the organism cannot meet. When the automatic ap-
paratus fails in a crisis and no new adjustment is forthcoming,
the form perishes. In some organisms, however, something
appears which we call consciousness, which rapidly mediates
new and perhaps more adequate adjustments. What it comes
from and what it ultimately is, it is not within our province to
speculate. We only note that it is present under certain condi-
tions and that it seems to perform certain functions. Now, in
its function as an adjusting agency, it does synthetize acts
and bring to bear upon them various portions of the past ex-
perience of the organism concerned. Hence, it seems reason-
able to suppose that the neural changes lying back of a con-

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS. 43

scious process differ from the great mass, or matrix surrouding
them in being somewhat more definitely organized than they.
In other words, we at least so far agree with Dr. Sidis in con-
ceiving of consciousness as a synthetizing process and further
in assuming that the neural processes involved have a corres-
ponding organization.1

As far as a conscious process is concerned, it may be said
to be best symbolized, for purposes of description, as a point.
It does not have extent, neither does it consist of parts, so that,
at any one moment, it cannot be said to contain elements of vary-
ing intensity. Although it may be true that objects do in vary-
ing degrees affect consciousness, or that many objects may be
in consciousness at a given instant, it does not follow that it
itself is composed of states of varying intensities, or that it could
be represented, for instance, by a circle of gray, the center of
which is white and the circumferance black, with all inter-
mediate shades of gray between these extremes. That is to
say, consciousness does not shade off gradually into uncon-
sciousness. It either exists or does not exist ; it may be more
intense at one moment than at another. It may even at some
moments be said to be at a minimum. But at any one moment
it is, for purposes of description, a unitary existence without
parts which might be thought as clustering about a center with
different degrees of intensity and adhesion. That is to say, the
* fringe ' conception does not describe a characteristic of the
edge of consciousness, in the sense that any conscious state pos-
sesses a psychic halo ; it rather symbolically represents the fact
that the -point of consciousness is modified by outlying neural
processes as well as by those most directly concerned in effect-
ing the required adjustment.2

' Op. cit.t p. 358.

2 Cf. " The whole effect of these obscure contents of consciousness on the
attention, fuses, according to the general law of the synthesis of affective com-
ponents, with the feelings attending the clearly conscious contents, thus form-
ing a single total feeling." (Wundt, Outlines of Psychology, p. 237.) We hold
that these " obscure contents " are not conscious in any sense except through
the fact of fusion itself. Cf. also Angell, Psychology, p. 395: "There is a
gradual fading out from a focal center of clearest consciousness toward a dimmer
region of partial consciousness, which we may designate the zone of the sub-
conscious. This subconscious area, " etc. It is just this conception of conscious-

44 DISCUSSION.

On the neural side we do have a mechanical system capable
of spacial representation. There is an organized center with an
outlying body of processes more or less directly contributing to
the central movement, or tension. Thus there may properly be
said to be a gradation in the neural changes according to their
degree of connection with a central organization. We hold that
it is a mistake to suppose that, since many neural activities may
in different degrees contribute to the central activity, there are
also varying degrees of consciousness clustering about a central
and more intense state. It may be conceived as the concomitant
of a certain organization of neural processes, each one of which
contributes to its existence, not by furnishing a psychic atom,
but merely by contributing to the central physical process. Con-
sciousness is, then, not the sum or the organization of psychic
elements, but rather the unique and single accompaniment of a
peculiar organization of neural processes.

It is evident that each neural element will determine the
complexion of consciousness in proportion as it contributes to
the general trend of organized physical activity. If and so far
as it is within the central system it has conscious value. If it is
outside that system, or only remotely connected with it, it has
no psychic value except in a prospective sense, that is, that it
may be the raw material for some future system which shall be
conscious. The chief reason for its being out of the pale of
consciousness is its lack of organization with the adjusting center
of activity. In the outer region, which is unconnected with the
central organization, are all the neural responses to the vast
mass of stimuli which for one reason or another fall in the field
of inattention. There can be no doubt that their number is very
large. Weakness of neural action is probably another cause of
the failure of a process to affect consciousness. Here are to be
classed the subliminal sensations referred to by Jastrow and
others. Although not conscious themselves, their existence is
proved by the fact that consciousness is, in certain instances,
appreciably modified by them, because of their presence within

ness on the analogy of a field or zone that is here disputed. It suggests the no-
tion at least that there are bits of relatively faint consciousness clustered about
a center of intense consciousness.

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS. 45

the central plexus. As Miss Calkins, in her review of Jastrow's
article suggests,1 the subconscious, due to inattention, should be
carefully distinguished from that due to diminishing intensities
of stimuli. In the former case the neural process is outside the
configuration which is correlated with consciousness, while in
the latter it may be within the configuration but so subdued as
to have, under ordinary circumstances no appreciable effect.

As may be inferred from what has just preceded, we pro-
pose to conceive of the subconscious, not as dim consciousness,
nor as something psychic, and yet not self-conscious ; but rather
as a physical mass of neural dispositions, tensions, and actual
processes which are in some degree, perhaps, organized ; the
remnants of habits, experiences, both those which have lapsed
from consciousness and those which have never penetrated to
the central plexus. Here also are hereditary traits and tenden-
cies which have never chanced to be sufficiently relevant to the
trend of processes which lay back of consciousness to succeed
in contributing to them. We believe that this theory of the con-
scious and the subconscious is capable, with possibly slight
modifications, of explaining all the phenomena that are usually
discussed under these heads. The possibility of such applica-
tion we shall now try to show.

When consciousness is present, the neural processes in-
volved are much more intense than otherwise. Whether the
relationship between intensity and consciousness is one of caus-
ality or of concomitance, we need not say. It is probable that
the relatively great activity of the central system tends to in-
hibit, or to reduce to mere dispositions all other neural proc-
esses. The ordinary dream-consciousness is, on our theory, a
condition in which the central activity is so subdued or dissi-
pated that more or less fragmentary or isolated neural disposi-
tions are aroused, or, perhaps better, liberated. In the hypnotic
sleep the center of activity is shifted in a greater or less degree,
resulting in the temporary lapse from consciousness of some
processes and the incorporation of others which were previously
mere neural dispositions. In double and multiple personality
there are one or more unusually well organized potential sys-

1 PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN, September, 1904.

46 DISCUSSION.

terns of neural elements which, under appropriate stimuli, can
separately become sufficiently active to be conscious. The last
stages of the case of Mr. Hanna, recorded by Dr. Sidis, appar-
ently necessitate our assuming that there can be two or more
coincident conscious systems. But the evidence is not conclu-
sive. The mere fact that the two personalities could emerge at
once, indicates that they had in so far begun to be organized
into a single system.

Such phenomena as those of post-hypnotic suggestion, so-
called unconscious cerebration, and the like, bring to light an
important characteristic of this matrix of neural dispositions,
namely, the possibility of a certain amount of elaboration, of
combination and recombination among them, independently of
the assistance of anything psychic. It is certainly not unreas-
onable to suppose that many combinations may be effected auto-
matically, in part, over the pathways of habit, and in part
through the agency of hereditary predispositions to certain
forms of organization. Thus a sense impression may be taken
up by some neural system, which is, for the time being, without
the central plexus, changes may result in the system, combina-
tions of processes may be brought about, which would other-
wise have remained separated, nervous force may be redistrib-
uted, until such an arrangement of elements and an accumula-
tion of tensions may result as will bring about a connection with
the center which is accompanied by consciousness. The only
way to account for the appearance in consciousness of fully
formed ideas, which apparently have no antecedents, is to sup-
pose that in some neural system, determined either by habit or
hereditary tendency, there have been a succession of changes
which have eventually led to a connection with the center, or
that in the center changes have occurred, which have brought
it into closer relation with some unconscious neural system,
with the result of raising it to consciousness.1 If our descrip-

1 The writer is willing to admit that there is normally even less automatic
activity in the outlying neural dispositions, than is here assumed, espe-
cially in view of the evidence adduced by Dr. Prince in his recent paper in
this journal. Dr. Prince, however, cites nothing which is inconsistent with the
theory here presented, i. e., of consciousness as a point rather than as a com-
plex of psychic atoms, although his own theory of the matter is not the one

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS. 47

tion seems too fanciful, we may say that all we care to insist
upon is simply that neural action is not confined to the central
plexus, but that, even without it, there are changes and seem-
ingly important combinations effected.

Turning from this conception of the subconscious as merely
a mechanical mass of neural dispositions and subdued neural
processes, let us note further the extent to which it may be con-
ceived as having a certain amount of organization, and how, if
it is so regarded, the many evidences of a precisely opposite
character may be interpreted.

In the first place, the phenomena of the * fringe * as dis-
cussed by Professor James in his Principles of Psychology ', are
striking evidence that the subconscious is more than a scrap-
heap. It is true that here he does not appear to connect the
fringe with the subconcious. In fact they are shown to be rad-
ically unlike. The latter is called the * tumbling ground for
whimsies ' while the former has a perfectly definite significance,
and certainly affords no basis for capricious opinion. In other
words, with its feelings of direction and the like, which seem
to guide one, in a train of thought, from one idea to another,
the fringe is obviously closely related to logical processes.

When, however, we come to defining these feelings of rela-
tion with care, the antithesis between them and subconscious
phenomena is not so evident. Of course, in so far as the fringe
is present in consciousness it is not merely neural. As already
pointed out, the central configuration of neural elements may
be and is surrounded by other elements which contribute in
varying degrees to the onward movement of the center. They
may modify the activity of the center sufficiently to appear
above the threshold as * feelings of direction/ but, as stated be-
fore, they are not themselves to be thought of as furnishing a
dim psychic halo about a central point of intense consciousness.
The * halo of relations ' possessed by each idea or image, is
merely the immediate neural setting of the idea. It is certainly
much simpler to regard this setting as a part of the subcon-

here presented. The point of this paper is that what is not in self-conscious-
ness is a physical tension or process. Dissociated ideas are not psychical
affairs at all.

4 DISCUSSION.

scious neural activity, to which reference has been made, than
to attempt a separate explanation. The chief difficulty, accord-
ing to our previous conceptions, of classing them together, is
the seeming incompatibility of a chaos and a high degree of
logical consistency. If, however, there is evidence for a good
deal of organization among entirely unconscious neural proc-
esses, the difficulty would seem in a measure to disappear.

It has already been suggested that the principle of habit
furnishes a basis for a certain amount of organization in the
processes not immediately connected with the center. It is well
known that the reasoning process is guided largely by habit,
preformed dispositions, emotional preferences and the like. The
trained reasoner differs from the na'ive chiefly in the sort of a
background from which he works, not in the way in which he is
affected by it. Previous experience is never merely haphazard,
and a train of rational thought may be conceived as merely a
conscious redefining of limited portions of preexisting but spon-
taneous organizations of the elements of experience.

The seeming chaos of the subconscious is more apparent than
real. We know it only as its processes chance to form con-
nections with the center, or when the center is so disorganized
and dissipated that they can effect a synthesis which is conscious.
Under such circumstances they seem by contrast with normal
consciousness to be simply masses of rubbish, disconnected ten-
dencies, irrational, uncontrolled impulses. We have already
called the central neural configuration, with its concomitant of
consciousness, the adjusting point of the psycho-physical organ-
ism. Naturally, here all the canons of logical thought have been
evolved ; the very fact that it is the adjusting center proves that
reasoning is its special prerogative. It is the center of control.
The subconscious is thus apparently a region without a logic
and without control. Within limits this is true, but it is equally
true that there is another aspect of subconscious activity. As it
has here been considered, it may represent more adequately the
character of its possessor than does the central configuration of
any one moment. Hence under certain circumstances there may
be a certain corrective value in falling back upon these marginal
tensions.

THE PROBLEM OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS. 49

Professor Leuba has given an excellent description of some
extreme forms of this in his article entitled * The State of
Death.'1 It appears in less marked degree in the ideal of self-
abasement, dying to one's self, humility, the cultivation of the
spiritual life, etc., as these conceptions are held by the ordinary
member of the Christian Church. The results aimed at under
cover of these terms are real and have a certain value with
reference to the rest of consciousness. Professor James put the
matter tersely when he said, * The hubbub of the waking life
might close a door which in the dreamy subliminal might remain
ajar or open.'2 We need not and do not suggest with him that
some supernatural agent might communicate with the devotee
through the fringe regions. It may still be true nevertheless
that within these regions there is a certain healing virtue. Its
tensions represent, or are in part, the sublimation of the values
out of all previous experience. The conscious center, in so far
as it is an adjusting apparatus, is inadequate as an index to life
as a whole. From its very nature its view must be partial.
Thus it may at times be worth while to permit the focus to be
dissipated that the outlying regions, in so far as they represent
one's life in a truer perspective, may assert themselves. The
religious notion of dying to one's self and obtaining instead a
divine life is by no means meaningless, even if we reject its
mystical interpretation. It is certainly a good thing, sometimes,
for one to stop striving and let past values come in as correctives
of present stress. Life as seen from the point of stress is bound
to be distorted.

It seems to the writer that many of the critics of the latter
part of The Varieties of Religious Experience have, in their
haste to discredit James' suggestion regarding the possibility of
extra personal influences through the subliminal, missed an im-
portant point in his discussion. May not his really vital point
be just here, that the view of life from the center of the struggle
is distorted and needs correction from the emotional values which
life as a whole has left us?3 IRVING KING.

PRATT INSTITUTE.

1 American Journal of Psychology, Vol. XIV., July-September, 1903.

2 Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 241.

3 The MS. of this article was received May 9, 1905. — ED.

5° DISCUSSION.

THE PLACE AND VALUE OF THE MARGINAL REGION
IN PSYCHIC LIFE.

Recent discussions of the psychology of religion have focussed
attention on the relative value of the reasoned and the unreasoned, the
fringe and the center of consciousness, in their bearing upon belief and
upon life.1 Some regard the marginal region as an independent source of
knowledge, in some way superior to the intellect, while others dispar-
age the former, and consider only the center of the conscious field pro-
ductive of anything really reliable. No decision on this point should
be made until after a thorough analysis of the marginal region. The
purpose of this paper is to make such an analysis and to assign to
the region in question its proper place in the totality of mental life.

With this in view a general division of the psychical elements must
first be made. And to spare the reader a tedious discussion which is
aside from the main issue and which can be found well enough in
many psychology books, I will say in brief that I accept the classifi-
cation of psychic phenomena used by Ebbinghaus and Professor
Royce — namely, sensory experience, ideation or thought, and feeling.

I do not include will or conation in this ultimate division, for to
my mind will is not an element at all. If we take up a writer like
Sully who maintains the elementary character of conation, and read
his description of it, the effect is bewildering. One hundred and fifty
pages are given to the subject, and a great mass of psychical material
is included under the term conation ; but all this material turns out to
be ultimately either sensation or ideation or feeling, and the will itself
or conation, as distinct from the other psychical elements, always eludes
our grasp. The truth is, if you look for will as an element you can
never find it, for it is a compound — the most inclusive of all psychic
compounds. It is a matter of the succession of states of consciousness
and is not to be found in any cross-section of the stream. You can never
single it out from its psychic context as you can feeling, and say, This
is pure will. You can never put your finger on it. It is no more a
given matter which you find than association is. Will and association
occur ; they are not given. They are processes ; not elements. To
include will in an enumeration of the elements of psychic life is like
saying the competitors in a race were A., B., C. and swiftness; or
like speaking of the circulatory system as containing venous blood,
arterial blood, and circulation.

1 Cf. especially Professor James' ' Varieties of Religious Experiences ' and
Dr. Irving King's article on the ' Differentiation of the Religious Conscious-
ness,' in the PSY. REVIEW Monograph Supplement, No. 127.

MARGINAL REGION IN PSYCHIC LIFE. 51

In saying this I do not wish to be interpreted as denying the primacy
of volitional, conative life. The whole stream of consciousness may
very well be considered a matter of conation; my point is that no one
element of it alone can be considered to be conation, to the exclusion
of the rest. Activity is a very real thing ; but psychological analysis
never finds it except in terms of feeling, sensation, etc., all of which
it combines into itself.1 This view is well put in Professor Royce's
Psychology : " All consciousness without exception may be considered
as accompanying our acts, or at all events as taking place side by side
with the tendencies to action which are at any moment aroused within
our organism. And thus all consciousness without exception may be
considered as an expression of the will."2

To erect sensory experience and ideation into independent divisions
is, I confess, more or less arbitrary. That they are nearer to each
other than either is to feeling cannot be denied, and the two might very
well be considered subdivisions of one large class which would be
called the rational vr the describable. The two, however, are certainly
far from being identical, and it seems to me simpler and better to
regard each as a separate class. Not only do they differ in their
physiological causes ; they differ also in character. As compared with
sense perceptions, mental images are uniformly pale, incomplete, poor
in content, and fleeting. Nor does this fully state the difference.
Images and perceptions may vary, according to Professor Miinsterberg,
in three ways, namely, in quality, intensity, and vividness. Will any
or all of these variations combined account for the difference between
a perception and its corresponding image? Compare the sensation of
a gray color to which we pay little attention, and the memory image
of it to which we pay much attention. The difference is great; but
it is not a difference of vividness, nor of intensity, nor of quality. It is
a fourth factor, which may best be expressed by calling it a difference
in kind, which separates sensory experience from ideation as decid-
edly— though not so distantly — as ideation is separated from feeling.

I shall, therefore, as I said, consider sensory experience, ideation
or thought, and feeling, as the ultimate elements of psychic life. If
feeling, however, is to retain the limited meaning of pleasure-pain,
this classification is obviously unsatisfactory, because incomplete. It is
too neat and prim, so to speak, for the hurly-burly of our actual inner
life. Our psychic experience is not made up entirely of these definite
and clear-cut forms. And I, therefore, propose to include under feel-

1 Cf. Professor Jatnes' article, ' The Experience of Activity,' PSy. REVIEW,
XII., 1-7.

2 Page 164.

52 DISCUSSION.

ing the phenomena of the marginal region. The ' fringes,' which
weave themselves around our clearest ideas; the vague meanings which
are yet no meanings and which are neither ideas nor feelings ; sensa-
tions unattended to and unlocalized, and so little discriminated that
without stretching the term we cannot call them sensations at all ;
the facts of subconscious mental activity which cannot be denied — in
short all that heterogeneous mass of rich but indescribable psychic ma-
terial which we call the ' background of consciousness ' is not to
be left out of account and is best classified here. And by this I do not
mean to include clearly localized, clearly differentiated, and perfectly
describable sensation, to which for the moment we are paying only par-
tial attention, but the subjective and irrational mass of conscious stuff
which is not susceptible of scientific description. Whether feeling in
its more limited sense of pleasure-pain should be included under the
same term used to denote this vast primordial, chaotic mass of psychic
material is, I confess, largely a question of ease of exposition. On
the one hand, it is true, that some feelings — e. g., an intense pain —
come into the center of attention and may be contrasted with the back-
ground. Yet between this differentiated feeling and the vague margi-
nal region there is no cleft, but a steady decrease of differentiation in
which no line can be drawn; and all pains — if we leave out positive
pain sensations (Ebbinghaus' proposed 4 Stichempfindung,' for in-
stance *) — have the same lack of clear-cut outlines, the same irrational
and private nature that characterizes the background. Within any of
the c elements ' of mind, upon any classification, subdivisions may be
made — in sensory experience, for instance, there is great difference
between sight and hearing, and even between red and blue, in the same
sense. The fact therefore that pleasure-pain when in clear conscious-
ness differs from some of the vague experiences of the background
should not prevent their classification under a single head. And that
feeling in the narrower sense is at any rate more closely allied to the
vaguer constituents of the fringe region than are sensation or ideation
can hardly be denied. Hoffding defines feeling as ' that in our inward
states which cannot by any possibility become an element of a percept
or of an image. " It is an inner illumination which falls on the stream
of sensations and ideas.'1' If this definition be accepted (and I believe
it should), feeling should be classed with the other indescribable and
irrational phenomena referred to. It is true that both for feeling and for
these other experiences, by an artificial transformation, sensations may

1 Grundzuge der Psychologic, p. 352.

2 Hoffding, Outlines of Psychology, p. 89.

MARGINAL REGION IN PSYCHIC LIFE. 53

in a sense be substituted ; but when this substitution has been made
the real feeling and the real background phenomena have vanished.1
There is in every complex which envolves either of these a factor
which simply is not to be objectified and described. So far as accu-
rate scientific description is concerned psychology must here 4 throw
up the sponge.' In this respect, feeling and what I may call the fringe
experience differ in toto from sensation and ideation. For this reason,
therefore, and also because of the facility with which the two run
together, I shall class the vaguer phenomena and pleasure-pain under
one heading. To me feeling is the type of the entire marginal region ;
it carries up into comparatively clear consciousness with no great
alteration the original psychic character of the latter.

I shall not attempt to coin a new word for this third element of
consciousness, but shall use a variety of terms for it, in general stick-
ing to the name feeling. I therefore warn the reader that for the pur-
pose of this paper feeling shall not mean merely pleasure-pain, but
shall have the broad connotation above indicated.

What, now, more in detail, are the characteristics of this vast field
of feeling? First of all should be mentioned its intimate and direct
relation to the life of the organism. Sensation and ideation relate us
to the outer world removed from us by time and space; the feeling
mass of which I speak is indissolubly connected with our vital func-
tions. So far as we are conscious of these functions at all, that con-
sciousness belongs mainly in the affective life. Ccenassthesia — as the
German term Gemeingefuhl imp lies — is a matter of feeling. The con-
scious rhythms of the bodily processes — especially as indicating the
healthy or unhealthy conditions of the organism — are summed up in
this common marginal feeling. uEs ist die 4 Resultante der sinn-
lichen Gefiihle ' ( Wundt) ; das ' Totalgefiihl, in welchem der ge-
sammte Zustand unseres sinnlichen Wohl — oder Uebelbefindens zum
Ansdruck kommt ' (Hoffding). Seine Wichtigsten Bestandtheile
sind, neben den deutlicher localisirten Muskel-und Organempfimhm-
gen, die vollig unbestimmten Totalempfindungen, ein Conglomerat
von betonten, aber meist nicht sehr starken Gefiihlen, welche ihren
Ursprung in inneren Veranderungen unserer Organe haben " (Zieg-
ler).2 In short we may say that ideation is man's consciousness so far
as he is a rational being ; the affective background is his consciousness
so far as he is a living organism. It is this which is in connection
with our vital needs. The instinctive desires and impulses have their

1 Cf. Royce, Outlines of Psychology, pp. 107-112.

2Elsenhaus, ' Ueber Verallgemcinerung der Gefiihle/ Zeitschrift fur Psy.t
XXIV., 203.

54 DISCUSSION.

roots in it, and get their power from it, the inborn reactions upon the
environment, so far as they are conscious, the native antipathies and
tendencies, our deepest loves and hates — all these are parts of it or
grow up out of it. In fact, so inextricably is it bound up with life
and all that life means, that it might well be called the vital
background.

This vital background seems to be the primary form of conscious-
ness. In all probability the lower forms of conscious life have little
beside this. Ideation would seem to belong exclusively to the very
highest vertebrates, and sensation also becomes less varied and less
definite as we work down in the scale of consciousness. Our own
' lower* senses have the most feeling (in the broad sense), and the
intellectual ones the least, and as Ward points out, our organic sensa-
tions which seem to come nearest to those of the mollusc, lack almost
any assignable quale. The infant's consciousness is void of what we
know as sensations or ideas ; it is ' a buzzing, blooming confusion.
" In place of the many things which we can now see and hear," says
Ward, " not merely would there then be (/. £., in the infant's con-
sciousness) a confused presentation of the whole field of vision and of
a mass of undistinguishable sounds, but even the difference between
sights and sounds themselves would be without its present distinct-
ness. Thus the further back we go, the nearer we approach to a total
presentation having the character of one general continuum in which
differences are latent."1

Out of this 4 continuum,' this matrix, this original chaos, big with
all the possibilities of conscious life, are gradually differentiated the
various forms of sensation and of ideation. Consciousness is not put
together from sensations ready made by the outside world, but, from
the comparatively homogeneous mass of the feeling background, certain
pulses of psychic life more prominent than the rest become more defi-
nite, more distinct, and by a gradual process evolve into sensations.
The same is true of the differentiation of ideas. The process seems
analogous to that of biological evolution, and might very well be de-
scribed by Spencer's famous definition — ' a progress from indefinite,
incoherent homogeneity to definite, coherent, heterogeneity, through
successive differentiations and integrations.'

But while much that in the mollusc and the infant belonged to

1Encyc. Brit., article 'Psychology.' It will be noticed that in adopting
Ward's view of the primitive consciousness instead of Spencer's or Stanley's I
have avoided those difficulties which Hoffding, Tawney and others urge against
he possibility of feeling in the narrower sense being the original form of
tpsychic life.

MARGINAL REGION IN PSYCHIC Lll I.. 55

this feeling mass has with the adult human being developed into clear-
cut sense perception and thought, a great part of the most developed
human consciousness retains its primitive, rich, undifferentiated char-
acter. The logical and orderly mind of the most l cut-and-drir<l '
logician, who thinks in abstract concepts and reasons in fixed syllo-
gisms of the figure Barbara, has still a great mass of 'fringe 'and
4 margin ' and 4 background.' The human logic machine is an inven-
tion of the imagination: and the most abstract thinker has always more
of the * blooming buzzing confusion' in the back of his mind than he
would be willing to confess. And fortunate it is for him that it is so;
for without it he would lack one of the most fecund sources of ideas
with which human nature is blessed. Thought arising from feeling is
a common experience of every one. Who has not listened to an argu-
ment andyW/ its fallacy long before he could put his finger on the
weak spot? Who has not searched for a lost name and caught the
tingle of it, the ^feel' of it, long before he could grasp its definite
ideational or sensational form ? And not only is our general Weltan-
schauung determined quite as much by the affective life as by logical
arguments, but in their very inception also, many of our most inclu-
sive and most important thoughts and systems of thought come to us
in a whirl of feeling most vague and indeterminate at first, and have
to be worked out afterwards into clear formulation. The logical form
is often the last product; the idea germinates in the feeling background
and grows up out of it. Probably most philosophers — certainly
many of them — feel their thoughts as vague tendencies long before
they can express them. "The condition behind discovery is a sense
or feeling of harmony or discord among phenomena, and of adjust-
ment or maladjustment between consciousness and its objects." ]

The entire psychic life is characterized by varying degrees of dif-
ferentiation. Between the clearly focalized idea and its fringe, be-
tween the discriminated sensation and its feeling-tone there is no im-
passable gulf that may not be spanned by imperceptible gradations.
With respect to differentiation Leibnitz's lex continui holds of the mind.
Especially is this illustrated in the feeling mass. Some of its material
has almost forced itself out of the obscurity of the background into
the clear consciousness of ideation or sense perception or some com-
pound of these ; some has even reached the focal point of attention,
as for instance intense pain. From this maximum of differentiation
the feeling mass slopes down through all degrees of discrimination

1 Starbuck, * The Feelings and Their Place in Religion.' American Jour-
nal of Religious Psychology and Education, I., 168.

56 DISCUSSION.

obedient to the law of Leibnitz, until it reaches the zero line. There
is good reason, moreover, to believe that the Father of German Psy-
chology was right in another of his assertions, and that the feeling
background does not stop with the zero line, but passes by a continu-
ous transition into the subliminal region. Certainly if there be such
a thing as the « subconscious' it is a continuation of the field of vital
feeling; and though psychologists differ in their interpretation of the
subconscious region, the existence of that region not many doubt.
Not to mention abnormal phenomena, experimental evidence has been
adduced by Jastrow, Dunlap, Stratton, and others which seems to point
toward the influence of the subliminal upon judgment. Thus in a
long series of experiments Dunlap found that shadow lines thrown at
certain angles but too faint to be consciously discriminated influenced
the judgment of lengths of other lines ; l and in Jastrow's experiment
two weights not perceptibly different, when merely guessed many
times gave results much nearer correct than could be accounted for by
chance.2 In these cases the feeling background, perhaps in part
above and in part below the threshold, seems more delicately adjusted
to its environment than the cognitive, rational factors.

How the subconscious should be construed I cannot pretend to
say. Myers' hypothesis of a second personality seems to me unsup-
ported by the facts. I can only suggest that from the focus of atten-
tion (of the conscious personality, of course) there stretches out an
indefinitely extended field of psychic stuff, becoming constantly less
differentiated, some of it passing the zero line of one's awareness, and
flowing out in what I might call dream waves — or possibly discon-
nected, split-off pulses of consciousness — beyond. These subliminal
dream-waves would be made up of the same kind of psychic material
as the feeling background, only still less discriminated, or even cut
off from the main psychic mass. Both would seem to be intimately
connected with the life of the organism, and, if the experiments cited
and others like them are worth anything, to be in some respects more
responsive to certain slight sensuous — and possibly other — changes
in the environment than is the fully conscious and rational personality.

If the subconscious region be conceived thus as not differing in
character of content from the conscious background we should natur-
ally expect its products, like those of the latter, to be good, bad and
indifferent; and thus the « dissolutive ' phenomena would be much
better accounted for than on the hypothesis of a subliminal person-

1 See Stratton, Experimental Psychology, p. 189.

2 Jastrow, ' The Status of the Subconscious,' Am. Jr. of Psy., XIV., 343-353.

MARGINAL REGION IN PSYCHIC LIFE. 57

ality. It would seem, moreover, that different individuals differ
enormously in the amount of subconscious material connected with
the conscious field. And one thing more may perhaps be added :
namely, that as Professor James has suggested, this region seems to
have another environment besides the conscious one ; it seems to point
to a beyond. All that I have said as to the subconscious, is, how-
ever, thrown out merely as suggestion ; and even if it be true, it is
but a very small part of the truth ; it leaves untouched a great many
of the facts. I am aware also that the little I have said is most
vague — but perhaps its vagueness is its only merit. So little is
known as yet about the subconscious region that I for one have not
the temerity to attempt to unify it. Of this, however, we may be
sure : 4 there is actually and literally more life in our total soul than
we are at any time aware of.'1

The objective, describable, communicable regions of conscious-
ness, ideation and sensation, may therefore be considered as two small
islands, bathed in the sea of vital feeling. This sea in its whole
extent — from the subconscious up to the maximum of differentiation
— seems to be in a constant state of turmoil. It is forever boiling, so
to speak, and throwing up upon the shores of the clearer conscious-
ness all manner of products. Emotions are constantly coming and
going, and suggesting an endless number of ideas and actions ; sensa-
tions normally subliminal or nearly so suddenly become clearly dis-
criminated ; ideas ; pop into our minds ' without any connection with
our previous train of thought ; the solution of the problem comes with-
out the argument that discovered it ; a course of action we find already
determined upon, wise but apparently not based on reasoning; intui-
tions of all sorts shoot out of the dark background ; the youth suddenly
discovers that he is in love and that he has been in love for a con-
siderable time without knowing it ; the poet finds the poem half-written
before he thinks of writing one. This spontaneous character of the
vital background often gives its contributions a sense of foreignness, a
feeling that they must have come from some source not ourselves — a
feeling pointed out by Professor James in connection with the subcon-
scious portion of this field.2

It is largely through this irrational, vital feeling mass that we are
united to our own past, to our ancestors, and to the race, — in fact in
a sense to all living things. It is the inheritor of our past and forms
what might be called a feeling-memory. At every moment our whole

'James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 511.
* Varieties of Religious Experience.

58 DISCUSSION.

outlook is colored by our past impressions and ideas. These are not
present as such — they are not distinctly remembered — but a general
feeling tone and tendency to reaction is established by them and is
modified by each event of life ; in short the total feeling background
is effected by all our thoughts and experiences in such a way that they
influence every passing moment. Our total past experience is in a
sense summed and massed in the feeling background, which thus
becomes a compendium of our history. But it is much more than
that, it is largely the store-house of heredity as well. It is in the line
of direct descent and inherits an endless amount of the wisdom gained
with so much toil by our entire ancestry. Our instinctive reactions
and adaptations, so far as conscious, belong here ; we do not reason
about them but obey necessarily a longing and an impulse which we
simply find. This instinct-feeling and impulse is wiser than our rea-
sonings. It is the accumulation of ages of experience and hence may
be and must be trusted as against our little store of personally gathered
knowledge and vainly reasoned syllogisms. In our personal sensory
experience and our logical conclusions we are very young; in our
feeling-mass we are older than the race. It is through the promptings
of feeling that we respond blindly but surely to the whole of a situa-
tion, of which our little conscious selves see only a very small part.
Hence feeling may be said to be in touch with a broader environment
than the rational part of us, and to keep us in touch not only with the
absent in space but with the distant past and even, in a sense, with the
future. For it binds us to the whole of nature and to the laws of the
cosmos, and hence may well be called prophetic. Through it, more-
over, we are united to the race. It is here that racial antipathies and
racial tendencies and in fact the solidarity of the entire human family
become manifest. Nor can we stop here, for it is also the one con-
scious tie that binds us to the whole of sentient life.

This fact, moreover, that it is the affective life which in a sense
unites us to the brutes, can be no reproach to it in the opinion of any
one whose ideal for humanity is anything else than that of an animated
syllogism. For it is feeling alone that gives value to life. Sensation
and ideation merely report on the facts. If man were only a cold
intellect who saw and judged, one thing would be to him as valuable
as another — in fact for him there would be no values in the universe
but only truths. It is only because man has feelings, emotions,
impulses, that anything in heaven or earth has value. Moreover not
only does the feeling background create values ; it also is often that
part of a man's mental make-up which for others has value. What

MARGINAL REGION IN PSYCHIC LIFE. 59

we love in our friend is not his sensations, nor chiefly his ideas and
his reasoning power; it is principally that combination of indefinable
psychic qualities — impulses, desires, likes and dislikes — which we
call his disposition. So far, then, is the feeling-mass from being
something which a man should hope in the course of evolution to get
rid of, that as a fact, if he should get rid of it, no one would be able
to find anything lovable in him, and he himself would be utterly
unable either to love or even to value anything.

In short the feeling-mass is wider than the other departments of
psychic life, deeper than they, and more closely identified with the self.
A change in it means a change in personality. Sensations and ideas
have a communicable and universal nature; this irrational residuum
is peculiarly private and individual. It is the determinant of char-
acter — in one sense it is the character and the personality. From it
the practical activity gets most of its energy and most of its guidance.
On the other hand, though in one way peculiarly individual in com-
parison with the ideas and sensations, it seems in another sense more
universal than they ; for it is limitless and seems to extend on beyond
any borders we can set, and to become continuous with a region which
is not ours. JAMES BISSKTT PRATT.

WIUJAMS COLLEGE.

A CORRECTION.

In the article entitled ' The Effect of the Brightness of Back-
ground on the Extent of the Color Fields and on the Color Tone in
Peripheral Vision' in the last (Nov., 1905) issue of the REVIEW by
Miss Fernald, an error occurs in the tables on p. 398. These tables
are republished below in their correct form.

Nasal Meridian.

Color.

Background.

Seen as Red.

As Orange.

As Yellow.

Not Seen.

Total No. Tests.

Red.

For blue.
" red.

19 XVII.
37 XIV.

16 IX.

13 VII.

3
14

" green.

39 I-

3 II.

" yellow.

Color.

Background.

Seen as
Orange.

As Red.

As Yellow-
ish-Orange.

As Yellow.

Not Seen.

Total.

Orange.

Forblue.

XXXII. 2

XI. 12

" red.

VI. I3

VIII. 12

" green.

XII. 19

II. 15

II. 20

101

" yellow.

II. 100

156

N. S. VOL. XIII. No. 2. March, 1906.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

A RECONCILIATION BETWEEN STRUCTURAL
AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY.1

BY MARY WHITON CALKINS,
Wellesley College.

In his address, delivered last August in Capetown before
the British Association for the Advancement of Science, Pro-
fessor George H. Darwin thus contrasts the biological and the
physical sciences : " The biologist," he says, " adopting as his
unit the animal as a whole, discusses its relationships to other
animals and to the surrounding condition. The physicist * * * is
irresistibly impelled to form theories as to the intimate constitu-
tion of the ultimate parts of matter." By these words Mr.
Darwin indicates a distinction between two fundamental scien-
tific procedures : on the one hand, the study of the scientific
phenomenon as a complex of elements, on the other hand, the
study of it as related to its environment. The first is known as
the structural, the second — for reasons that I shall later elab-
orate — may be named the functional method in science.

Mr. Darwin's special purpose in distinguishing between
these two scientific conceptions is, as he says, to discuss "the
extent to which ideas, parallel to those which have done so
much toward elucidating the problems of life hold good, also,
in the world of matter. I believe," Mr. Darwin adds, " that it
will be possible to show that in this respect there exists a re-

paper, substantially as written, was presented, as President's Address,
to the American Association of Psychology, at its meeting in Cambridge, De-
cember, 1905. The third paragraph on page 67 has been added to meet a criti-
cism made in the course of an informal discussion of the paper.

62 MARY W. CALKINS.

semblance between the two realms of nature which is not merely
fanciful." And his conclusion is that communities of atoms,
no less than communities of animals or even than political com-
munities, are subordinated to the law of natural selection, in
other words that they are in a perpetual struggle for existence.
Their ' stability,' he asserts, is " a property of relationship to sur-
rounding conditions. * * * The existence of some is so precari-
ous that the chemist in his laboratory can barely retain them for
a moment ; others are so stubborn that he can barely break
them up. * * * The more persistent or more stable combinations
succeed in their struggle for life."

For the purposes of this address, the significant feature of
the passage I have quoted is not its specific application of the
conception of natural selection to atoms — but its extension, to
the whole domain of science, of the doctrine that all phenomena
are fundamentally related to environment and must be studied
from the standpoint of these relationships. Such an extension
of the functional procedure does not, however, it must next be ob-
served, interfere with the constant validity of the structural pro-
cedure— the analysis of phenomena into elements. Mr. Dar-
win does not suppose that the physicist will cease to feel an
irresistible interest in the intimate constitution of the ultimate
parts of matter because he interests himself, also, in the rela-
tions among each other of these very ultimate parts. What Mr.
Darwin is trying to accomplish is in fact not the annihilation
but the supplementation of the old method of analysis. He is
arguing that a physical or a chemical phenomenon has both to be
analyzed into its elements and to be described as a complex of
relationships with coordinate phenomena. He claims, in other
words, that the biologist holds no exclusive right to the func-
tional method, or — as he might well add — the physicist to the
structural method.

I have dwelt at such relative length on Mr. Darwin's discus-
sion, because I wish to make his plea for the union of the two

1 Mr. Darwin extends his supposition, on the one hand, to those communi-
ties of negative electricity of which it is now inferred that the atom is com-
posed, and on the other hand to meteoric orbits. (For detail with reference to
the hypothesis last named, cf. Part II. of his presidential address, delivered
August 30, 1905, at Johannesberg. )

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 63

scientific conceptions the basis of this evening's address before
the American Association of Psychology. In contemporary
psychology, the two procedures, structural and functional, are
too often opposed to the point of mutual exclusion. The struc-
tural psychologist is often wont to ignore functional relations
and the functional psychologist to condemn structural psychol-
ogy as an artificial, abstract, and inadequate account of con-
sciousness. The object of this paper is to show that the two con-
ceptions, structural and functional, are readily combined, if only
the basal fact of psychology be conceived as a conscious self,
that is, as a self-being-conscious. The combination of the two
procedures is — I shall argue — in this way made possible, be-
cause a sel£-being-conscious is not only analyzable into elements
but is also a complex of relations to its environment, social
and physical. In more detail, my procedure in this paper will
be as follows : I shall first attempt to describe the nature of the
psychologist's self, distinguishing it as basal phenomenon of
psychology on the one hand from the psychic event — the men-
tal process or idea — and on the other hand from the biologist's,
the philosopher's, and the sociologist's self. I shall next try to
show that this psychologist's self is rightly conceived as funda-
mental both to structural and to functional psychology, and that
it should therefore be studied by both methods. I shall, finally,
point out that psychic experiences may adequately be described
in terms of such a self.

I. THE CONSCIOUS SELF AS BASAL FACT OF PSYCHOLOGY.

By self as psychic fact I mean jvhat the plain man means by
self, in so far as this does not involve the view that body con-
stitutes part of a self.1 This conscious self, the plain man's self,
in the developed form in which we commonly study it, is in the
first place realized as underlying the experiences of the mo-
ment— as having percepts, images, and the like, or, more ex-
actly, as ' perceiving,' < imagining,' and * feeling.' And, in the
second place, every self, besides being fundamental to its own
ideas or experiences, is also a related self. That is to say, I

1 For justification of this omission, cf. below, p. 66.

64 MARY W. CALKINS.

am always conscious of myself as in some way related to my
environment, social or physical.

, This doctrine of the self as the fundamental psychic phenom-
enon must be defended, first of all, from the counter-theory
that the basal fact of psychology is the psychic event, and its
corollary that a self is a mere series or system of such psychic
events. The psychic fact, conceived after this second fashion,
has been named by Locke the * idea,' by Hume the * percep-
tion,' by Spencer the ' feeling.' Titchener, one of the most
consistent of modern upholders of the structural doctrine, calls
the psychic event 'mental process.' Locke's term, 'idea,'1
seems to me the simplest and the best to designate the psychic
phenomenon from this point of view : the fact of consciousiness,
considered as strictly individual, in artificial isolation from other
facts, and — in particular — considered quite apart from any
self or mind. As thus employed, in Locke's fashion, the term
4 idea ' of course covers emotion, belief, and volition as well as
percept, image, and thought.

I have on other occasions argued that psychology, thus con-
ceived as dealing with ideas, that is, with psychic events, is a
perfectly consistent science, and that every sort of concrete con-
scious experience, thought and volition quite as well as percept
and image, may be described simply as consisting of certain
elements of consciousness. But in spite of the abstract possi-
bility of conceiving consciousness as a series of ideas and psy-
chology as the science of this stream of ideas, I am none the
less convinced that not the idea but the self should be taken as
the basal fact of psychology. There are two reasons for the
superiority of this self-doctrine. In the first place, the idea is
itself an abstraction which invariably implies a self. And, in
the second place, the description of consciousness through the
analysis of ideas is not a full and adequate account of actual
conscious experience. These assertions must be separately
considered.

Every idea implies a self somewhat as every sector implies

JBy the use of this term, Titchener seems to me to invalidate his own con-
ception of mind as ' sum or series of mental processes ' (Outline, \ 3 ; cf. Primer,
\ 4). A process is not something which can be summed or added; it is, as
Titchener himself says, * a becoming something ' (Outline, § 2).

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 65

a circle, or as every cell implies an animal body. No one can
conceive of an idea except as the idea of a self : in other words,
the idea is immediately and unavoidably known to be some-
body's idea. In the words of Lipps, " the immediately experi-
enced I (das unmittelbar erlebte left) is the central point of the
life of consciousness. To every content of consciousness," he
adds, " belongs this relatedness to the I."1

One may find, indeed, in every manual of psychology con-
firmation, intended or unintended, of this assertion that the idea,
the psychic event, always implies the self as its necessary back-
ground.2 One may gain warrant, also, for the second count in
the indictment, the charge that the idea, or psychic event, when
conceived as basal fact of psychology, is not merely an abstrac-
tion, but an abstraction in terms of which conscious experiences
are not adequately described. This follows from what has
been said concerning the related nature of the self. Obviously,
the experiences of a self, which is a bundle of relations both to
selves and to things, need a further statement than that in terms
of a succession of its own ideas. This is as evident as that the
full description of a given animal must not merely enumerate
the different structures of which its body consists, but must in-
dicate its reactions on its environment — must tell, for example,
whether it is graminivorous or carnivorous, and whether it
swims or walks.

To this inadequacy of idea-psychology I shall recur in the
final section of this paper. For the present it is necessary to
add to this distinction of the self from the idea as sharp a con-
trast as can be drawn between the psychologist's self, thus de-
fined, and the biologist's, the philosopher's, and the sociologist's
self.

1 Leitfaden der Psychologic, S. 2. Lipps has made, furthermore, what un-
happily he does not consistently and systematically use, a fruitful distinction
between two fundamental attitudes of the I : Einfiihlen, in which the I identi-
fies itself with its 'other,' and Gegenuberstehen in which the I opposes itself.
Had Lipps but applied this distinction, he would have made of the Leitfaden a
significant contribution to systematic psychology.

2 Cf. the passage, often cited, of James's Brief Psychology, p. 153. Cf. also
the passage quoted from Titchener, below, p. 78 ; and the even more instruc-
tive definition of 'a mental process ' (Outline, $ 2) as ' any process falling within
the range of our experience in the origination and continuance of which we are
ourselves necessarily concerned.'

66 MARY W. CALKINS.

By self as fundamental fact of psychology is not meant,
in the first place, the psycho-physical organism, body plus con-
sciousness or body regarded as possessed of consciousness.
To this conception of the psycho-physical organism as psychic
fact, the objection is, very briefly, that the doctrine belongs not
to psychology at all, but to biology. Biological science may
very properly study the nature, the relations and the develop-
ment of the whole animal regarded as a body which has con-
sciousness,1 but psychology, if a science at all and not a mere
department of biology, is a ' science of consciousness,' and as
such cannot properly adopt as its basal phenomenon a complex
of physical and psychical. The practical outcome of such a
combination is, I think, as Titchener suggests,2 that the psy-
chical comes to be regarded not as coordinate with the physical
but as function of it, so that the fact ' that these underlying
processes are psychical becomes an accident.'

It is equally necessary to insist that the psychologist's self is
not identical with the philosopher's. A self as psychic fact is
not an object of philosophical argument but of immediate con-
sciousness. In other words, no question arises of its ultimate
nature : it is taken for granted, as any object of any science is,
without further investigation. Just as a mineralogist takes for
granted that there are stones, and just as a zoologist takes for
granted that there are animal bodies, so a psychologist takes
for granted the existence of selves.

It is impossible to lay too great stress on this distinction be-
tween the philosopher's and the psychologist's self, since the
tendency to confuse the two is responsible, I think, for the op-
position on the part of the structural psychologists to the view
here maintained, and thus for the counter theory that the self,
as far as psychology is concerned with it, is a mere sum or

1 Professor Baldwin's Development and Evolution, is a good example of such
a primarily biological study. It discusses the ' development and evolution of
mind and body taken together.' From such a standpoint, as Baldwin says,
' changes in mind and body go on together, and together they constitute the phe-
nomena.' I am not objecting to this procedure, but simply arguing that it is
biological, not psychological.

2 Cf. his paper on ' The Postulates of a Structural Psychology, ' Philosophi-
cal Review, VII., 1898, pp. 449-465.

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 67

series of ideas. The strength of this Humian doctrine has lain
in the supposition that the only alternative to it is a philosophy
of the self. But though sound philosophy is based on psychol-
ogy and may well start, as Descartes's did, from the myself as
immediately observed, yet psychology need not and should not
reach over into philosophy. Psychology does not reason about
the place of its selves in total and ultimate reality, but simply
accepts them on their face value as observed facts.

The related self as basal psychic phenomena should be dis-
tinguished, finally, from the fundamental fact of sociology,
namely, the social organism. The basal fact of psychology is
the individual self in its relations, primarily social ; the unit of
sociology is the interrelated system of selves. Psychology, in
other words, lays stress on the individual, while insisting that
the individual is constituted, in great part, by its social relation-
ships ; sociology emphasizes the family, the state, the com-
munity, though recognizing the individuals as its members.
The relation of psychology to sociology is, in fact, closely simi-
lar to that between physiology and zoology. As the basal fact,
or unit, of psychology is the socially related individual, so the
basal fact of physiology is the single body — studied, to be sure,
as related to environing bodies. And somewhat as the unit of
sociology is the community, the unit of zoology is the species.

To this conception of the self as basal fact of psychology, it
is often objected that self-consciousness is late in making its ap-
pearance and that psychology as science of consciousness of
every sort must concern itself with psychic facts below the level
of self-consciousness. I take direct issue with this common doc-
trine, believing that there is no consciousness which is not self-
consciousness. Of course, there is an illimitable difference be-
tween the developed consciousness which is that of every psy-
chologizing self, and the undifferentiated consciousness of
sleepy adult, of baby, or of animal. Obviously, the baby, the
animal, and the sleepy adult do not make the contrast which
the psychologist makes, between the self and its experiences or
ideas, nor yet between the self and its environment. But one
never has consciousness, the sleepiest or most inchoate, which
does not involve an experience qualitatively similar to that later

68 MARY W. CALKINS.

consciousness which every one agrees to call self-consciousness.
This simplest self-consciousness is not a reflective distinction of
self from environment, though it may later be replaced by such
reflective consciousness. But anything less than self-conscious-
ness would not be consciousness at all : to be conscious is to be
conscious of a conscious self.

The only ground for denying this plain outcome of intro-
spection is the old confusion between the implicit consciousness
of self, often vague and undifferentiated, belonging to every
experience, and either the discriminating self-consciousness of
the reflective adult or, more developed still, the philosophically-
reflected-on self of the metaphysician. The psychologist con-
cerns himself not at all with this philosopher's self ; but he has
to do with the undeveloped self-consciousness, a self which one
remembers from one's own sleepy states and imputes to animals
and to babies, and primarily, he is interested in the developed
self-consciousness of the adult.1

II. SELF-PSYCHOLOGY AS RECONCILIATION BETWEEN STRUC-
TURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY.

I have so far been concerned to make clear the conception
of the conscious self as basal fact of psychology. I have now
to show that this conception facilitates, and indeed necessitates,
a union between structural and functional psychology. To make
this point, I shall try to show that each of these terms, structural
and functional, is ordinarily made to cover both a doctrine of
psychological analysis and a doctrine concerning the basal fact

1 In further elucidation of this distinction, I may quote from my paper on
the ' lyimits of Comparative and Genetic Psychology': "Animals, if they are
conscious at all, must be conscious of selves, for consciousness of any other sort
is inconceivable. To be conscious simply means to be conscious of oneself in
this or that or the other situation. The only ground for questioning this view
is * * * the old tendency to confuse the implicit self -consciousness of every ex-
perience, with the definite, reflective self-consciousness of the psychologist or the
philosopher. Self-consciousness in the latter sense is as impossible to the ani-
mal as to the child, and is properly opposed by the argument : babies and ani-
mals because incapable of abstraction are therefore incapable of self-conscious-
ness. Self-consciousness as a vague, undifferentiated sense of what Hobhouse
calls ' self as a pervading identity and permanent character,' every animal which
is conscious at all must possess." {British Journal of Psychology ', Vol. I., p.
283, January, 1905.)

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 69

of psychology. I shall argue (i) that structural psychologists and
one group (but one group only) of functional psychologists are
unjustified in their doctrines of the basal psychic phenomenon ;
but that (2) in their doctrines of psychological analysis, both
structural and functional psychology are right : the analysis of
the one supplements that of the other — in Professor Angdl's
words, * every description of function involves some reference
to structural elements, just as the actual functions themselves in-
volve structure.' l Finally (3), I shall argue that both sorts of
analysis, structural and functional, are essential to an adequate
self-psychology.

I shall develop this conception, first, with reference to struc-
tural psychology. According to a common prejudice, the
analysis into elements, sensational, affective, and the like,
necessarily involves the assumption that the analyzed psychic
phenomenon is the psychic event or idea. Thus, structural
psychology becomes synonymous with idea-psychology. But
the artificialness and inadequacy of this conception of the
psychic unit as idea has already been shown. Certainly, the
idea is not the immediately observed, basal psychic phenomenon.
And for this reason, the functional psychologists are wont to
decry and to oppose what they call the structural psychology.
They overlook the fact that the really characteristic feature of
the structural psychology is not at all its atomistic unit, but
rather its analytic procedure. Structural psychology consists
essentially in the teaching that the task of psychology is first,
to analyze typical experiences until one reach irreducible ele-
ments, and second, to classify the ordinary sorts of complex
experience according as one or another of these elements pre-
dominates. The structural psychologist may, and does, supple-
ment this analysis and classification by seeking for each ex-
perience or typical class of experiences a scientific explanation
— that is, by seeking to link it with other facts, or groups of
fact, whether psychic, physiological, or physical. Thus, the
percept, for example, is conceived as psychic complex in which
sensational elements predominate, is further classified as visual,

1 'The Relations of Structural and Functional Psychology to Philosophy,1
Decennial Publications of the University of Chicago, First Series, III., p. 57.

70 MARY W. CALKINS.

auditory, and the like, by the preponderance of this or that class
of sensational elements, and is explained by being correlated,
on the one hand with the excitation of occipital lobe and retina
and of corresponding muscles, and on the other hand, with the
vibrations of the ether. It must be borne in mind that the
analysis and classification are the only essential parts of this pro-
cedure, and that the explanation through physical and physio-
logical facts is a useful addition to structural psychology, not an
integral part of it.1

Now it is past doubt that this structural analysis of a psychic
state is always possible. As actually carried out in the past by
structural psychologists, the analysis has, to be sure, been often
inadequate. But contemporary structural psychology is char-
acterized by a growing fineness of discrimination. This is evi-
dent especially in the modern recognition of relational along
with sensational and affective elements of consciousness. What
Spencer so long ago insisted on is at last being admitted by
almost all ' structural psychologists: that thoughts and recogni-
tions, volitions and beliefs are not adequately described, even
from the structural standpoint, as mere complexes of sensation
and affection ; and that among the irreducible elements fused
together in consciousness are the feelings of * and/ ' like/

* more ' and ' not ' as well as the sensational feelings — say, of

* blue,' and of ' bright ' — and the affective elements, as ' pleas-
ant ' and * unpleasant.'

But this analysis into structural elements — it must be
insisted — is not necessarily the analysis of an idea or psychic
event : it is, on the other hand, quite as easy to discover the
structural elements of consciousness regarded as experience of
a self, for though every conscious experience is some relation,
simple or complex, of a self to its environment, it is also a com-
plex of different elemental experiences, sensational, affective
and the like ; and these elemental experiences are of course to
be regarded as excited and accompanied by specific bodily con-
ditions. In a word, psychology as science of conscious and

1 It follows that the tendency of some psychologists to treat the physiologi-
cal and physical analysis as primary is fundamentally untrue to the principles
of structural psychology.

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. Jl

related selves may and should undertake the analytic disco
of elements of conscious experiences as such. By virtue of
this structural procedure it is truly a structural psychology,
though it utterly repudiates the doctrine of the psychic event, or
idea, as the basal fact of psychology.

From this effort to demonstrate that self-psychology includes
the essential part of structural psychology, I turn to consider
the relation between functional and self psychology. Func-
tional psychology, also, is a term which has been used to indi-
cate both a conception of the fundamental fact of psychology
and a characteristic sort of psychological analysis. As regards
the doctrine of the unit of psychology, functional psychologists
are agreed in their well justified opposition to the atomistic con-
ception of the idea as basal fact or unit of psychology. Posi-
tively, they present no united front, but many — perhaps most
of them — conceive the psycho-physical organism as the basal
fact of psychology, holding that the concern of psychology is
with the relations of the functioning psycho-physical self, the
conscious body, to its environment. This, as I have tried to
show, is an unwarranted substitution of a biological for a psy-
chological conception. It seems, furthermore, to form no in-
herent part of functional psychology, since many functional
psychologists do not hold it. Angell, for example, follows up
the assertion that the psycho-physical organism is a real unit,
by the admissions that ' the separation of mind from body may
be made in behalf of some one of our theoretical or practical
interests.' He says, indeed — though I do not think that his
procedure always conforms to the statement — that the * pri-
mary task ' of psychology * is to analyze and explain mental
facts.'1 Professor Mead, going further, seems to me expressly
to identify the basal fact or unit of psychology with the self,
the ' I ' or « subject in persona,' as he calls it, « the subject that
is * * * more than an assumption.' 2

Functional psychologists are, thus, far from unanimous in
teaching that the psycho-physical organism is basal fact of psy-

«
1 Psychology \ p. 6.

1 ' The Definition of the Psychical,' Decennial Publications of the University
of Chicago, First Series, Vol. III., Part II., pp. 104 seq.

72 MARY W. CALKINS.

chology and are in my opinion, wrong in so far as they hold
the doctrine. The truth is, however, that functional, like struc-
tural psychology consists essentially not in a doctrine of the
unit of psychology, but rather in a type of psychological an-
alysis. As such, it seems to me to embody the following con-
ceptions : first, and fundamentally, the conception of conscious-
ness in terms of the relations to environment which it involves ;
second, the conception of consciousness in terms of the signifi-
cance or value of these relations. I shall try to show that func-
tional psychology, conceived after the first fashion, may coin-
cide with self-psychology; and that, viewed in the second
manner, it may be supplementary or subordinate to self-psy-
chology.

It can hardly be denied that functional psychology, what^
ever more it includes, does include this conception of conscious-
ness as experienced relation to environment. This is implied
in the reiterated emphasis laid by functional psychologists upon
the significance of ' reaction ' and ' response.' It is often clearly
stated in their definitions. Angell, for example, speaks of sen-
sation as ' the psychical function by which the organism is first
brought into contact with its environment ' ;* and Dr. Gore de-
scribes imagery as functioning * on the side of response.'2 But
this, which is the characteristic conception of functional psy-
chology, is not merely reconcilable with self -psychology : it
is a part of self-psychology. For self-psychology, as truly
as functional psychology, regards conscious experiences as re-
lations to environment. Nothing else, indeed, can be meant
by the conceptions of activity, passivity, sympathy, and opposi-
tion, by which it is necessary to distinguish psychic facts viewed
as experiences of a self.3

It is true that functional and self psychology, as actually for-
mulated, do not always give identical descriptions of the en-
vironment to which the psychic unit is related. The functional
psychologist tends to emphasize the physical, or — more pre-

1 Op. cit. in Decennial Publications of the University of Chicago, Series I.,
Vol. III., Part II., p. 58.

2 'Image and Idea in I/ogic,' in 'Studies in Logical Theory,' Decennial
Publications of the University of Chicago, Series II., Vol. XI., p. 196.

3 Cf. pp. 76 seq. of this paper.

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 73

cisely — the biological environment, whereas the self-psycholo-
gist lays stress on the social, or personal, environment. Yet
even here, there is substantial agreement. For all functional
psychologists, at least implicitly, acknowledge social relation-
ships and Angell even says : "We shall regard all the oper-
ations of consciousness as so many expressions of organic ad-
aptations to our environment, an environment which we must
remember is social as well as physical."1 Conversely, though
self-psychology, as I conceive it, regards the relations of a self
to a personal environment as logically and genetically prior, it
also takes account of impersonal emotions and of will directed
to external and impersonal situations — in a word, of an im-
personal environment.2

The cardinal conception of functional psychology, that of
consciousness as involving internal relation to environment is
evidently, therefore, an integral factor of self-psychology. But
functional psychology includes the supplementary doctrine that
consciousness is to be conceived and classified, not merely as
relation in general, but as ' effective' or beneficial relation — in
other words, as a function which has meaning or value. Func-
tion, in other words, is defined as * part played with reference
to reaching or maintaining an end.'3 This doctrine of the func-
tional psychologists — a symptom or an application of the mod-
ern movement in philosophy known as pragmatism — hardly
needs to be illustrated. It appears in Angell's descriptions of
the cognitive functions as * one of the points at which conscious-
ness is most obviously of value,'4 and in his statement that
' truth or falsehood are impressive names for relatively com-
plete (t. <?., successful) and relatively incomplete (*. e., unsuc-
cessful) operations of adaptation ' ; and in his teaching that in
volition ' consciousness is selective of the beneficial.' And Dr.
Arnold, who has recently come forward in defense of functional
theory, says that ' perception is studied as giving meaning to
the object concerned,' and that * images are to be considered as
logical aids to action.'5

1 Psychology, p. 7.

2 Cf. my Introduction to Psychology ', pp. 276 seq. , 309 ; Der doppelte Stand-
punkt in der Psychologie, pp. 63, 74.

3J. Dewey, 'The Reflex Arc Concept,' PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. III.,

p. 365, 1906. 4 Decennial Publications^ op. cit., pp. 64, 65.

5 PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN, II. , p. 372, November, 1905. Cf. the common

74 MARY W. CALKINS.

Whatever the nature of this method of describing psychic
facts in terms of their utility, such a conception evidently may
be harmonized with the doctrine that the psychic self, not the
psycho-physical organism, is basal fact of psychology. For
surely not merely the bodily organism, but the thinking, feel-
ing, struggling self as well, is capable of more or less ' suc-
cessful/ ' useful,' and * complete ' relations with its environment,
whatever the standard of utility adopted. Keen perception,
vivid imagination, subtle thought may strengthen the self in its
conscious opposition to environment or in its equally active
adaptation. This is merely to say that all experiences tend to
the development of self-activity. There is thus no description
of a psychic content as promoting efficiency, or as giving mean-
ing, but may be appropriated by the self-psychologist.

This is not the place in which to discuss the more funda-
mental question whether it is expedient, as well as possible, to
regard use or value as technically psychological terms. If such
a procedure were carried to its limits, * a thoroughgoing-func-
tional psychology,' as Angell frankly recognizes, ' must ulti-
mately issue in investigations which are nowadays the exclusive
possessions of logic, ethics, and aesthetics, respectively.'1 I am
myself inclined to the conservative view that psychology, though
forming both an indispensable basis and a constituent part of
.aesthetics and ethics, differs from each in so far that it never
assumes either value, beauty, or truth as, for purposes of
strictly psychological description, an ultimate term. It would
follow that the value of a given sort of consciousness would be,
from the standpoint of psychology, an allied but not a constituent
fact. But I am not now concerned to argue this point. My
contention is simply the following : Admitting the propriety of
the functional psychologist's descriptions in terms of value, we
may still insist that values are primarily personal : in other
words, that the terms apply primarily to the self in social rela-
tions and not exclusively or necessarily to the psycho-physical
organism.

description of the function of a psychical state as ' that of reconstruction of the
disintegrated coordination.' Mead, op. cit.t p. 106 seq. Cf. Dewey, op. cit., pp.
358, 361, et al.; and Bawden, Philos. Rev., 1902, 1903.
1 Decennial Publications, op. cit.

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 75

From all this it follows that functional psychology, rightly
conceived, is a form of self-psychology, that its basal phenome-
non is the psychologist's self, and that its significant contribu-
tions to psychology are, first, its doctrine of the inherent rela-
tedness of self to environment, and second, its insistence on the
progressive efficiency or utility of these relations. Certain
writers known as functional psychologists do, it is true, hold
conceptions irreconcilable with those of self-psychology. These
are the teachings that the unit of psychology is the psycho-
physical organism and that the concern of psychology is with
the sensori-motor processes of this organism, as such. But it
has been shown that this doctrine lacks the assent of many
functional psychologists, and that it substitutes for a purely
psychological a physiological or a biological conception. Pruned
of these biological excrescences, a functional psychology — as
I have tried to show — is a self-psychology.

The refusal to admit the physiological organism and its
processes as genuinely psychological phenomena does not, of
course, prevent the acknowledgment of them as correlated
facts. The self-psychologist, in other words, takes accounts of
the sensori-motor processes, the bodily reactions and attitudes,
on which the functional psychologists lay stress, just as he
takes account of the neurological phenomena which the struc-
tural psychologist emphasizes. He does not, to be sure, hold
that either the organism or any movement or attitude of it is in
itself a psychic phenomenon, any more than he holds that a
nerve excitation is a psychic event. Yet he may and practi-
cally does assume that psychic facts are conditioned or accom-
panied or followed by physiological and biological phenomena.
He regards the organism, in other words, as the physiological
correlate of the self, and the bodily movements as antecedents,
or correlates, or consequences of psychic phenomena. Thus,
for him, also, the bodily attitudes and reactions have a special
significance in that they serve as adaptations of bodily organism
to biological and physical environment.1

1 This way of regarding the bodily reactions as objective external facts,
parallel with forms of consciousness, does not of course, do away with the pos-
sibility of analyzing the consciousness of any bodily movement into elements

76 MARY W. CALKINS.

With this conclusion, I have reached the end of the second
section of this paper. I have tried to show that self-psychology,
the doctrine that the conscious self is the basal fact of psy-
chology, harmonizes the essential doctrines of a structural and
of a functional psychology. I have argued this on the ground
that consciousness, which always implies a conscious self, is a
complex alike of structural elements and of relations of self to
environment. Such a doctrine of psychology forms, I have
also attempted to show, a basis for the neurological and biolog-
ical explanations of psychic fact which are current in psychology.

III. THE DESCRIPTION OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN TERMS OF
STRUCTURE AND OF PERSONAL RELATION.

In the final section of this paper I shall try to justify my
general conclusion by a more detailed reference to concrete
conscious experiences. I shall aim to show briefly, first, that
these actual experiences 1 cannot adequately be described by
enumerating their structural elements, and second, that the con-
ception of them as relations of self to environment involves or
allows all the teachings essential to functional psychology.
(This second purpose cannot be systematically carried out, since
— if I am not mistaken — no functional psychologist has ever
attempted a full and consistent description of all classes of
psychic fact in terms of efficiency or of bodily activity. The
functional conception has either been employed to supplement
descriptions in terms of structure, or it has been applied to a
few cases only of consciousness.)

In my Introduction to Psychology and in a later monograph,
I have attempted in some detail the description of conscious ex-
periences in terms both of structural psychology and of basal

of consciousness, mainly sensational. Thoughtful functional psychologists find
no difficulty in admitting this. Cf. Dewey, op. cit., p. 364: "Motion as psy-
chically described, is just as much sensation as is sound or light or burn." Cf.
also, the sentence quoted from Angell on page 69. For an example of the false
opposition of function to structure, cf. Felix Arnold (already quoted on page
73) in the PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN, op. cit., p. 372.

1 It is perhaps unnecessary to point out that I use the term ' experience,' or
the pleonasm ' conscious experience,' not as opposite of ' thought ' but as con-
venient synonym for ' a consciousness,' that is, as a general term, covering per-
ception, thought, emotion — in a word, all sorts of consciousness..

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. ^^

personal relations. There is time, this evening, to consider cer-
tain cases only which illustrate the fact that self-psychology
supplies a principle of description and of classification wholly
lacking to structural psychology, and fundamental to the dis-
tinctions of functional psychology. The forms of conscious-
ness which I shall try to analyze are three : imagination, emo-
tion, and will. For the dogmatic brevity of my discussion, the
limits of my time are responsible.

From the standpoint of an exclusively structural psychology,
perception and imagination are alike complexes of elements
mainly sensational. Kiilpe and Titchener seem to me to have
shown conclusively that no invariable difference — of vividness,
stability or detail — distinguishes the two.1 In other words the
difference between perception and imagination is, on the basis
of structural psychology, physiological, not psychological — it is
the occurrence in the case of perception of end-organ excitation.2
Self-psychology, on the other hand, makes a clear-cut and
strictly psychological distinction between perception and imagi-
nation : in perceiving, I am or may be conscious of myself as
sharing my experience with unparticularized other selves,
whereas in imagination this consciousness is inevitably lacking.
This description in terms of personal relation is, of course, to
be supplemented by a structural analysis. For the enumeration
of structural elements, though it does not constitute the complete
description of a psychic phenomenon, is an essential part of
such a description. Imagination, defined as it should be from
both points of view, is a sensational complex, usually lacking
maximum stability, vividness and duration, which is reflectively
realized as peculiarly the private experience of * myself.' On
the physiological side, the sensational character of imagination
is correlated with specific neural excitations.

Such a description of imagination in terms both of personal
relation and of structural elements serves, as well as the purely

1 Grundriss der Psychologic, \ 33, 6 seq ; Outline of Psychology, | 43.

8 In a review of my Der doppelte Standpunkt in der Psychologic (Jour, of
Psy., Phil., etc., Dec., 1905), Professor M. F. Washburu suggests that the
' feeling of realness ' should or might be taken as the distinction of perception
structurally regarded. Waiving other objections, I may observe that this would
obliterate the distinction between perception and belief.

7 MARY W. CALKINS.

structural conception, as basis for the characteristic functional
doctrine that imagination is stimulus for action. Taken by
itself, it should be noted, this * functional ' description of imagi-
nation would not adequately distinguish it either from percep-
tion or from volition.

The study of emotion reveals an even more obvious inade-
quacy in the structural method. An emotion is readily described
by the structural psychologist as a complex of affective elements
with sensational experiences, including organic and kinaesthetic
sensations. But an emotion is not adequately described in these
terms : it does to be sure include the affective and the sensa-
tional elements, but it is also the realized personal relation of one
self to individualized self or object. This is so evident to in-
trospection that even structural psychologists unwittingly imply
the self in their descriptions of affective states, as when Titche-
ner says : " Regarded from the point of view of ordinary life,
blue and warm are somehow detachable from oneself * * *
whereas pleasantness is always within oneself."1

This realized consciousness of self is, of course, most evi-
dent in the case of any doubly personal emotion, an emotion
for which object as well as subject is a self. Thus it is,
in my opinion, utterly impossible, if one adhere solely to the
structural standpoint, to distinguish pride from joy, or sympa-
thetic from purely egoistic sorrow. Both pride and joy are
pleasant emotions, and, so far as the obscure organic sensations
are made out, both seem to be distinguished by consciousness
of bodily conditions involving a general well-being. In a word,
pride and joy are not fairly distinguishable till we regard them
as personal relations. Then, pride is readily differentiated from
joy as involving the comparison of oneself with other selves.
Similarly, egoistic and sympathetic grief both are characterized
as unpleasant emotions ; and both include a vague conscious-
ness of bodily conditions characteristic of bodily depression.
No constant organic sensation and no distinction in temporal
reference sets one off from the other. The associated ideas may
be in both cases the same. Only from the basis of self-psy-
chology, as it involves the consciousness of sharing emotion

1 Outline, 32 (i), p. 95.

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 79

with other selves, is sympathetic grief distinguishable from grief
of the egoistic sort.

Such a view of sympathy, it is evident, is in accordance
with the conceptions of functional psychology, if that term be
taken in its widest sense to imply a study of consciousness as
involving relations to environment. For the selves of whom in
pride or in sympathy one is conscious, form an integral part of
one's environment. The subordinate features of a functional
psychology may also be correlated with this doctrine. For it is
certainly possible to describe, in terms of utility, the emotions
thus conceived as relations of a self, and the characteristic
bodily attitudes which condition or accompany them.1 It must,
however, be admitted that the list of distinguishable bodily atti-
tudes is not so long as that of the different emotions, so that in
the end the personal distinctions are necessary for the complete
classification of the emotions.

A third notorious instance of the insufficiency of structural
psychology is found in its attempt to describe the experience
known as will. Introspection seems to bear unequivocal testi-
mony to the distinctive, sui generis character of will — sharply
differentiating our volitional experiences from our perceptions,
thoughts, emotions, and the rest. In accordance with this ob-
servation, structural psychologists once supposed the occurrence
of a specific volitional or conative element — an element which
should label an experience volitional, just as an affection con-
stitutes it emotional. But the modern school of structural psy-
chology rightly, as it seems to me, teaches the impossibility of
discovering in experience a peculiar volitional element. Accord-
ingly it defines the volition as a complex of elements in which
there is a predominance of the sensational elements involved
in the experience of muscular effort, and of certain relational
elements, as well, if such be recognized.2 This analysis is, I

1 From the structural standpoint, consciousness of these attitudes is, of
course, part of the emotion.

2 1 have chosen, in the interests of a convenient terminology, to limit the
term ' volition ' to idea-psychology, conceiving a volition as an idea distin-
guished by the accompanying ' feeling of necessary connection with a future
real.' (For elaboration of this view, cf. my Introduction to Psychology, pp.
299 seq. ; Der doppelte Standpunkt in der Psychologic, pp. 74 seq. ) Of course,
this is an entirely arbitrary limitation of the term volition, which might as
reasonably be employed as synonym of will. Whatever the terms chosen it
certainly is expedient to distinguish the two conceptions.

8o MARY W. CALKINS.

think, substantially correct ; and yet it does violence to the plain
outcome of introspection, which sharply contrasts will with other
sorts of consciousness. Obviously, the contrast must be made
otherwise than by feigning a fictitious structural element. It
is, in truth, a contrast in personal attitude and relation. For
will differs from every other conscious experience, in that it in-
volves an active, not a passive, relation of one self to other selves,
or — secondarily — to impersonal objects or events. This sharp
contrast of willing from all other forms of consciousness is, for
the most part, readily admitted. It is a commonplace of psy-
chology that we are passive in perceiving — that we must be
conscious of being blinded or overheated or drenched, whether
we will or not. Carefully regarded, it will appear, further, that
we are victims of our imagination also, that our visions dawn
upon us instead of being created by us. Similarly, we lie pros-
trate, as Goethe says, beneath the weight of our emotions ; and
even thought is active only as it is voluntary, that is, as it is in-
itiated or accompanied by will. In opposition to the passivity
of these experiences, we all of us recognize what we call the
activity of will, as of faith. This contrast of activity with pas-
sivity is, it is evident, impossible if the basal fact of psychology
be the idea. An idea as pulse of consciousness — as mere tem-
porally located bit of experience — is definable only in terms of
its elements. It is neither passive nor active, just as it is neither
egoistic nor altruistic. And any one who questions this, may
convince himself by re-reading Berkeley's " Principles," and by
taking note of Berkeley's futile efforts to make the distinction
between passive and active ideas, or, in Berkeley's terminology,
between ideas and notions.

On the other hand, this conception of the will as active tal-
lies perfectly with the teachings of functional psychology. For,
in the first place, it describes will in terms of relation to en-
vironment, personal and impersonal ; and, in the second place,
it may readily take account of the utility for the conscious self
of its active relations ; and, finally, on the side of physiology, it
enumerates the bodily reactions involved in an active relation
to one's environment.

Every conscious experience might be shown, in parallel

STRUCTURAL AND FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. 8 1

fashion, to be both a complex of structural elements and a self /
as related to environment. This conception and no other does
true justice to the rich fulness of the conscious life. Naturally,
therefore, it harmonizes the truth in the teachings of structural
and of functional psychology. And in so doing, it draws psy-
chology into the forward movement of the sciences. For psy-
chology, conceived as science of structurally analyzable yet
socially related selves, may be compared with biology, viewed
both as the study of the animal in its relation to environing con-
ditions and as a study of cells and tissues ; with physics viewed
as conception of the struggle for existence of molecules and
atoms which yet are analyzable ; and with chemistry when re-
garded both as analysis into irreducible elements and as the
study of corpuscles repelled from each other and attracted to
the atom as a whole. In truth, the doctrine of self-psychology
accomplishes for our science that union of methods which Mr.
Darwin outlines as an ideal barely attained by the physical
sciences.

SYMMETRY, LINEAR ILLUSIONS, AND THE MOVE-
MENTS OF THE EYE.1

BY PROFESSOR G. M. STRATTON,
Johns Hopkins University.

In a report of some experiments in the Wundt Festschrift?
evidence was brought forward that our pleasure in graceful
curves could not be due to the ease and smoothness of the eye's
own motion in viewing these curves. For the ocular movement
itself, when photographically recorded, is found to be inter-
rupted and jerky and most unlike the figures we enjoy.

The experiments I would now report are a continuation of the
work thus begun, and have to do with three problems, namely :

1 . Can the character of the eye's action explain the peculiar
preference we show for symmetrical forms?

2. Can that group of illusions in which eye-movements have
perhaps most often been assigned the chief role be rightly attrib-
uted to eye-movements ?

3. To what extent is the so-called Wundt-Lamansky law of
eye-movements a valid law?

The general technique of the experiments was practically
the same as that described in the paper already referred to. An
improvement was introduced, in that by modifying the form of
the front of the camera the use of mirrors became unnecessary,
and the observer looked directly at the drawings and diagrams
used. And in order to check any special effect that might arise
from a particular position of the light or from any peculiarity
in the movement of either the right or the left eye, the relative
position of camera, diagram, light and observer was from time to
time alternated between what might be called a right-hand and

1 Read, in part, at the meeting of the American Psychological Association,
Philadelphia, December, 1904.

2 ' Bye-movements and the Esthetics of Visual Form,' Philos. Studicn,
Vol. XX., p. 336.

MOVEMENTS OF THE EYE. 83

a corresponding left-hand arrangement.1 And by the farther
slight change of directing the camera now toward the right eye
and now toward the left in each of these arrangements, four com-
binations were thus employed. It ought perhaps to be added that
although the camera was, at any given time, directed to but a
single eye the person always observed the figures freely with
binocular vision.

The instructions given the observers were at times somewhat
different from those in the experiments previously reported.
For in the former experiments certain outlines were presented
and the observer was asked to * follow ' the line as best he could
while giving what should seem to him a free sweep to the eye.
In the present case, however, there was very little of even such
loose constraint ; for the most part the observer was left entirely
to his own devices as to the manner in which he should view the
object before him, since in most of the experiments the aim was
to discover if possible the natural way of looking at the figures.
Where constraint was suggested it was usually for the purpose
of recording a series of careful fixations of the eye, in order
to make clear the amount of distortion which must be allowed
for in translating the photographic records into terms of actual
movement.2 That the results might not be vitiated by reason
of any special habits of viewing the figures, induced by the
earlier instruction to follow the outline, a group of subjects were
chosen who, with a single exception, were new to the work.

1 For those who may wish more definite details it may be said that the dia-
gram to be observed was placed in front at a distance of 72 cm. At one side of
the diagram and directed toward the eye was a very long extension camera
with a specially constructed narrow front, so that it might be brought near the
diagram without cutting it off from the observer. The distance from eye to
camera-lens was 51 cm., and the enlargement upon the plate was about four
times. Upon the opposite side of the diagram from that upon which stood the
camera was the arc light at a distance of 129 cm. from the eye and making
an angle of about 60° with the mean line of sight. Camera and light changed
sides in different sets of experiments; and although the light was bright, yet
it was so far to one side that the observer felt no inconvenience from it. Where
sunlight was used, as in a part of the experiments upon the first of the three
problems, the general angular relations of the light to the eye, etc., as above
described, were preserved.

2 See Philosophische Studien, Vol. XX., p. 341 ; and pp. 88-89 of the present
article.

84 G. M. STRATTON.

These observers were six in number, — Miss Nelson, Mr. Ben-
nett, Dr. Dunlap and Dr. Wrinch, at the University of Califor-
nia ; and Dr. Baird and Mr. Williams at the Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity. Without the cordial assistance which they rendered
the work would have been impossible. To Professor Ames and
Professor Whitehead of the Physics Laboratory of the Johns
Hopkins University I am indebted for the use of the microscopic
comparator in the measurement of records.

I. THE FORM OF EYE-MOVEMENTS AS AFFECTED BY
THEIR DIRECTION.

In examining the negatives obtained in the experiments on
aesthetics, the question had arisen, Whether the movements of
the eye showed any characteristic differences according to the
direction of their course ; and particularly was it interesting to
determine in how far the eye's action, when tested by the photo-
graphic method, conformed to what has been called the Wundt-
Lamansky law. This, as the reader will remember, affirms
that vertical and horizontal movements are along straight lines,
while diagonal movements are along curves, but curves whose
particular form has been somewhat a matter of dispute.1 In
order to get additional evidence upon this whole question of the
form of eye-movements, a diagram was so arranged that a cen-
tral point of fixation gave approximately the primary position of
sight, while around this and at a uniform distance of 35 cm.
from the central fixation-point there were eight small but dis-
tinctly visible black areas representing the four cardinal direc-
tions of up, down, right and left, and also the four intermediate,
or diagonal, directions. The person who acted as subject of
the experiment, starting each time from the center, swept his
eye rapidly to one or another of these outlying points and the
eye's path was recorded upon the photographic plate.

From an examination of some 250 paths obtained in this

1 See Wundt, Beitrdge zur Theorie der Sinneswahrnehmung , pp. 140-142,
and 201-202. Lamansky, ' Bestimmung der Winkelgeschwindigkeit der Blick-
bewegungen, respective Augenbewegungen,' Archiv fur die gesammte Physiol-
ogic, Vol. II. (1869), p. 418. Cf. Hering, in Hermann's Handbuch, Vol. III.,
pt. i, pp. 450-452 ; and Sanford, Experimental Psychology, pp. 124-125.

MOVEMENTS OF THE EYE. 85

way from five persons it is clear that horizontal movements
have a directness far greater than that of movements in any
other direction. The eye more rarely starts in a false direction,
and consequently there appear here fewer corrective glides or
angular changes of direction as the goal of the movement is
approached. The eye in moving horizontally often misjudges
the distance, and must either piece out its course by adding a
short step or two, or must double slightly upon its track, having
overrun its mark. But the direction is usually in need of but
the slightest, if any, change.

As for movements up or down, they have a markedly dif-
ferent character from that of horizontal movements. Indeed
they are so similar in form to diagonal movements that they
must be grouped with these rather than with horizontal move-
ments as is done by the Wundt-Lamansky law. For in all
these movements other than horizontal, the eye runs an uncer-
tain course. Its path is often irregular or tremulous, with jerky
corrections toward the end. In general the downward move-
ments, while making about as large errors in direction as do the
upward movements, have perhaps more dash and * go' in them,
and seem to be made with greater ease. And the diagonals
which run downward appear to share this greater freedom, in
contrast to those diagonals which run an upward course.

But the form of the diagonal movements is by no means
uniformly curved. There are upon occasion most beautifully
straight movements here, and when the path is curved it is by
no means always of the form described by the law in question.
It often shows a double curve of slight degree in passing out
from the primary position, and even more often runs most of its
course along a hardly appreciable curve and then toward the
close increases its curvature, like the form of a golf or hockey
stick. But even in the same person such curvatures may, in
successive experiments, turn in the very opposite direction.

While it is impossible to give any particular form as that
to which these motions universally conform, yet there seems
to be a strong tendency for the eye to take a course which
shows at first too strong an action of the muscles . on the
inner or nasal side of the eye ; so that those curves which

G. M. STRATTON.

occur, whether in diagonal or in vertical movements, tend
to have a different bend according as the record is made
by the right or the left eye. The right eye tends to swing at
first too far to the left ; the left eye, too far to the right ; and
this error in direction requires toward the end of the course a
corrective jerk or glide, which determines the form of the curve.
Accordingly, under the particular conditions of the experiment,
these tendencies might be set forth in the accompanying scheme
(Fig. i). It is to be understood, however, that such a diagram

A B

FIG. i. Schematic representation of the eyes' action ; A for the left eye,
B for the right.

is not a picture of the eye's actual paths. For the records them-
selves are almost invariably more irregular than the curves just
given, and at times show no such curvature as is here repre-
sented. The selected records shown in Fig. 2 will make this
clearer. But that the tendency above described runs pretty
strongly through the results is shown by the following distri-
bution of the individual paths in all those directions which, ac-
cording to the scheme, should show any particular direction
of curvature ; that is, in all but the horizontal directions of
movement :

Subject.

Cases Opposed to
the Scheme

Indifferent and Am-
biguous Cases.

Cases in Accord with
the Scheme.

Wi.

Wr.

Totals.

149

MOVEMENTS OF THE EVE. 87

A careful examination of the indifferent and ambiguous
cases, as well as of those opposed to the scheme, shows that
they are distributed about equally between the two eyes and are
not concentrated upon any particular direction of movement,

A B •

FIG. 2. Records of the eyes' free movements in passing outward from a cen-
tral fixation point to outlying points in eight different directions. A gives the
paths of the left eye ; B, of the right. The actual records were about one fourth
this size.

although the four diagonal directions show more of these ex-
ceptional cases than do the two vertical directions, and upward
diagonals show more exceptions than do the downward.

The direction of curvature in the general scheme I have
given is exactly what one might expect to obtain if the eyes in
passing from the center of the diagram had relaxed their con-
vergence, but relaxed it more rapidly during the later stages of
any given movement than during the earlier stages. Now in
the case of the diagram used with subjects D, JV, and Wr and
described on p. 84, the line of sight when directed to the cen-
tral point whence all the motions took their start, was perpen
dicular to the plane of the diagram, so that the outlying points
of the diagram were slightly farther from the eye than was the
center. Consequently there was need of some change of con-
vergence in passing from the center outward. But the actual
amount of curvature in the records, in the case of those move-
ments in accord with the scheme, is found by careful measure-
ment with a comparator to be, on the average, over four times

G. M. STRATTON.

what could be accounted for in this way ; so that it seems im-
probable that the greater distance of the outlying parts from
the eye could have had much to do with the results.

But to gain more direct evidence as to the possible influence
of this factor, the diagram was modified in the experiments
where B and Wi were subjects. The same eight directions
were still used as hitherto, but the outlying points of fixation —
the termini of the eye's sweep, — were now no farther from the
eye than was the primary or central point of fixation, — the start-
ing point of movement. The intervening stretch between the
central and the peripheral points was a curved extent like a por-
tion of the surface of a sphere at whose center the subject was
placed. The continuance of the typical curves under the con-
ditions (as shown by B and Wi in the preceding table) makes
it clear that the mere flatness of the original diagram and con-
sequent need of relaxing the muscles of convergence as the eyes
passed outward on the diagram was not the cause of the results
obtained from the other objects.

Nor can the direction of curvature be accounted for by the
distortion due to the fact that we are recording, not the actual
movement of the eye, but the movement of a point of light which

is a « function ' of the eye's own motion,

since the reflection is from the curved

surface of the cornea. Series of photo-

* ^ . graphs were taken while the subject fix-

,.,.•.... ated in succession rows of points arranged

/*»•*. in lines along each of the eight directions

of the regular diagram, as shown in Fig.

3. A specimen record of the left eye is

FIG. 3. 'Diagram for given in A of Fig- 4» while ^ is a record
showing, by successive of the right eye of the same observer.

fixations, the character of It is dear from the records that if the
the corneal distortion. , . 7 , . . , ^

eyes took straight courses in the eight

different directions, one would obtain records showing a curva-
ture similar to that made by the series of dots in these figures
produced by the successive fixations of points which lay in
straight lines. On the other hand, insofar as the eye during a
free movement makes a record different from such a curve, we

MOVEMENTS OF THE EVE. 89

know that the eye at that time did not take a straight course,
but a curved one. And by comparison we may know in what
direction and to what extent it departed from straightness. Now
when we compare A of Fig. 2 with A of Fig. 4, and also com-
pare the .Z?'s of these two figures, we find that the free paths of
the eye as shown in Fig. 2 are very different in character from
the curvature produced merely by the corneal distortion. In-
deed in most instances the paths in the one case have an opposite
curvature to those in the other.

As to the cause of this characteristic curvature, the results
indicate that in free movements of the eye the rectus interims
muscle is inclined to act too strongly, partly no doubt by reason

A B

FIG. 4. Records of the eyes' action in fixating the points in Fig. 3. A is the
record of the left eye ; B of the right. The character of the corneal distortion
is made clear, while the paths between stops show that for short movements
there is the same general curvature as for the larger sweeps of Fig. 2. The
records are from the same subject as are those in Fig. 2, and were taken
under like conditions.

of its relatively great size and strength, and partly perhaps be-
cause of an association which has grown up between convergence
and attention to objects close at hand, so that the act of atten-
tion inclines us to call the muscles of convergence into play.

But why the results here show such a departure from those
obtained by Lamansky and by Wundt I am almost at a loss to
say, and can only offer the suggestion that their methods did
not report with exactness the nicer features of the eye's be-
havior. When the form of the after-image of a streak of light
is used to infer the eye's course, in the experiments which I
have tried with this method, the path of the eye when its line

90 G. M. STRATTON.

of sight is farthest from the light which produces the after-image
is very difficult to examine, since the after-image is then too
faint and too far out upon the periphery of the retina to be seen
with perfect distinctness. And it is when the eye is far out
upon its course and is approaching its terminus that the most
marked curves in its course usually occur. Moreover, as Her-
ing has pointed out,1 the path of the after-image is apt to be
modified by torsion of the eye during movement, and only under
certain special conditions is it a record, pure and simple, of the
course taken by the line of sight. But if, instead of using the
after-image, one depends upon catching sight of certain objects
during the flight of the eye (as Wundt aimed to do), and from
their position inferring what the eye's path must have been,
then it must be remembered that the eye would be able clearly
to recognize such objects only when it made stops? Such a
method would give no indication of the path pursued by the eye
between stops, and it is just here that the characteristic curves
occur. It would seem to me, therefore, that the photographic
method is the one which can be relied upon here to give a more
accurate report of the facts.

II. EYE-MOVEMENTS AND THE CLASSIC LINEAR ILLUSIONS.

The illusion figures that were chosen for photographic tests
were those of Miiller-Lyer, Poggendorff and Zollner. And the
general method of experiment was to take pairs of records, one
of each pair being taken with the illusion in some one form or
direction, while its mate was taken during observation of a
diagram whose main lines had actually the same length and
direction as before, but with the illusory effect in this case
either suppressed or reversed. If eye-movements are actually
the source of these illusions the records ought to show a dif-
ference regularly in the two members of each pair of negatives.

In examining the plates, care was taken to avoid any effect
that bias on my own part might produce. Each plate was
measured and adjudged in entire ignorance of the more exact
conditions under which it had been taken, — as to whether it

iHering, op. tit., pp. 450-451.

•Dodge, PSYCHOLOGICAL, REVIEW, VII., 454.

MOVEMENTS OF THE EYE. 91

represented, for example, an illusory shortening or lengthening
of a line, or an apparent convergence or divergence of parallels.
A microscopic comparator was used for much of this work.

The actual outcome of the examination of the records for
the Miiller-Lyer diagrams is that in most cases the eye takes
a wider sweep when the line seems lengthened than when
it seems shortened. We cannot say, however, that the eye in-
variably behaves in this way. Of the eight successful pairs of
plates with this particular figure, five pairs show the eye as
making a longer or shorter excursion according as the figure
itself seems longer or shorter. In three pairs this tendency does
not appear. But of these three exceptional cases, two are am-
biguous and might be cited either for or against the doctrine
that the illusion follows the eye-movement, according as we
measured the widest range of the eye's sweep, or merely the dis-
tance between the extreme points of rest. In only one instance
does the eye behave in unequivocal opposition to the require-
ments of the eye-movement explanation of this illusion.

In the case of the Poggendorff illusion, there is a somewhat
different turn to the results. There are here twenty-two clear
records, equally divided between instances where the regular
illusion-figure was presented and instances where the observer
looked at a diagonal having the same length and slant as the
diagonal in the Poggendorff figure, but without the interruption
and the parallels which in the regular figure influence our
perception.

One who examines the negatives in ignorance can have no
certainty, in any given case, as to whether the observer had
before him the single continuous line or the full Poggendorff
figure. Of the eleven pairs of negatives, six pairs show char-
acteristics that favor, more or less, an eye-movement expla-
nation, while five of the pairs do not countenance such a view.
In one case, where the illusion came out clear for the observer,
the eye made the jog which the eye-movement theory requires,
but made it in the wrong place. In another instance where the
illusion came out clear, the eye made its jog, but in exactly
the wrong direction. And of the eleven records taken with the
illusionless straight line, six show jogs of the character that

92 G. M. STRATTON.

would explain an illusion if an illusion had only been there.
There could hardly be stronger evidence that the jog in the
eye's course cannot be the cause of the Poggendorff illusion.

As for the Zollner illusion, I have but eight clear records
and even these are by no means as easy to adjudge as might be
expected. The eye is, in reality, an unruly member, and its
wild doings are difficult to describe in geometrical terms. In
the present experiments (which were with a single pair of
parallels from the Zollner pattern), one would like to say that
in just so many cases the eye's movements diverged when the
illusion itself was divergent, and in so many instances it con-
verged. But when one tries to bring the reluctant records
under such a classification, he finds that in those instances
where there is an approach to parallel sweeps of the eye, the
very same plate may show one pair of movements convergent
and another pair divergent. Or again the eye's motions may be
such a medley of pot-hooks and figure-eights that nothing but
the points of rest of the eye seem to bear any intelligible re-
lation to the direction of the lines in the diagram observed.

In the case of five plates it is possible to make from the paths
themselves a more or less satisfactory estimate of the relative
directions of the movements. And of these five cases, two
show movements in accord with the direction of the illusion,
while three show movements that are self-contradictory — t. e.,
movements now in accord with the illusion and now in opposi-
tion to it. All the plates however permit a rough estimate by
means of the points of rest of the eye ; and of the eight cases, three
show the rests as having a convergent relation with a conver-
gent illusion, while five plates show a divergent relation with a
convergent illusion. It is very significant, too, that in the four
instances when the observers reported that the illusion came out
with greater clearness, half of the plates show conformity be-
tween the eye-positions and the illusion, while half show direct
opposition.

The general effect of an examination of such records is
pretty clear. In the first place, there is some degree of ante-
cedent skepticism produced by the fact previously reported, that
— try one's best — the eye is unable to move with any nice con-

MOVEMENTS OF THE EYE. 93

formity to an objective line ; and that even its points of rest are
far from having any exact connection with the form observed ;
so that one who becomes familiar with such records is more and
more impressed with the general unfitness of eye-movements to
serve as the basis for the miraculously fine visual estimates and
discriminations which we are able to make.

Nor is this antecedent doubt quieted by the present experi-
ments especially directed to space-illusions. If some special
form of the eye's movement is the cause of a particular illusion,
such a movement must be present on every occasion when the
illusion is felt. But in the actual records we find plenty of in-
stances where the movements which have been supposed to pro-
duce a given illusion are present when the illusion is absent, and
absent when the illusion is present. One can hardly believe,
then, that the supposed causal connection really exists.1

For we cannot longer argue that although the peculiar move-
ments which are said to be the cause of the illusion may be
wanting, yet such movements are suggested and have the same
effect as if they actually occurred. For while a suggested
movement might perhaps be psychologically potent when the
eye is at rest, it is unreasonable to believe that such a merely
suggested movement could mentally outweigh a movement of
the very opposite character which was not suggested merely,
but was actually being performed. The Poggendorff illusion
can come out clear when the eye is making a movement the
very opposite in character to what is theoretically required;
similarly the Zollner illusion ; so also the Miiller-Lyer illusion.
Indeed the performance of the theoretically inappropriate move-
ment is good evidence that the opposite character of eye-move-
ment could not have been very strongly suggested. The evi-
dence as a whole, then, is strongly against the truth of the
eye-muscle explanation of these illusions.

With this, let us pass to the final topic to be considered,
namely :

1 One should add, however, that a causal connection quite the opposite to
that so often held is not at all unlikely. For instance, in the Miiller-Lyer illu-
sion, it may well be that the relative lengths of the eye-movements are not the
cause of the illusion but are its effect; the line which seems long tends to call
forth a long sweep of the eye, while the apparently short line induces a short
sweep.

94 G. M. STRATTON.

III. SYMMETRY AND ITS RELATION TO EYE-MOVEMENTS.

The figures here used were, in part, the simplest — squares,
rectangles and circles ; and, in part, more complicated figures,
the outlines of Greek vases, with and without symmetrical
handles. In these experiments care was of course taken to
give the various observers no hint that the symmetrical arrange-
ment in the figure was the special feature under investigation.
They were merely told to look at the figure in whatever way
seemed to them right and natural, and, if possible, to observe the
form as one would in enjoying it.

In examining the negatives one is struck by the almost gro-
tesque unlikeness between the outline observed and the action
of the eye in observing it. For the most part the eye moves
irregularly over the figure, seeking certain points of vantage
from which the best view of important features may be obtained.
And these positions are marked by the eye's momentarily rest-
ing there. Now these points of rest are evidently of more con-
sequence to the observer than the path by which the eye reaches
them ; indeed the form of any single path between two stops
usually bears no observable resemblance to the outline which
the subject was taking in, and which in many cases he believes
his eye to be accurately following. But even the points of rest
are not so arranged as to supply of themselves a rough sense
of the form perceived, after the manner of an outline pricked
disconnectedly in paper. The points of the eye's rests in the
records are usually too few and too inexact to give any such
clear and connected perception of the form as the observer regu-
larly and readily obtains.

As regards the question of the symmetry of the movements
of the eye, in some instances the negatives display a rude bal-
ance. But it must be said that even the most symmetrical of
these records can be called so only by courtesy, for they sig-
nally lack that exactness of correspondence of part to part
which we demand in the objective form before we are ready to
enjoy it because of its symmetry. The more frequent records
have not even this rough approximation to symmetry.1 The

1 For an example of such a record, see my Experimental Psychology and
its Bearing upon Culture ', p. 242.

MOVEMENTS OF THE EYE. 95

observer looks at one side of a Greek vase in detail, and then
glances at the other side, and, seeing that it corresponds to the
first, is satisfied. By comparing the records with the reports of
the observers, it would appear that some of the more symmet-
rical eye-movements occurred when the person was in doubt as
to whether the form before him really was symmetrical. So
that balance of ocular sweep may be obtained where the sym-
metry is doubtful, and where the observer must look closely and
compare the sides part by part. But looking for symmetry is
psychologically a different thing from enjoying symmetry ; it is
a condition of dissatisfaction and unrest. And on the other
hand observers have expressed especial satisfaction with a
vase-form where the record revealed movements unusually ill
balanced.

The records do not warrant one, however, in saying that
with pleasing forms the eye tends to a kind of equipoise where
motion no longer is invited. It has been thought by some that
this constitutes the chief pleasure in symmetry — that the eye
is drawn equally in opposite directions, and in the presence
of opposing forces finds repose. The actual experiments show,
it is true, that the eye may at times make relatively slight
movements in viewing a graceful form. It may take up some
central position, and keep its excursions within a small com-
pass. But even here there seems to be an almost ceaseless
twitching, as if rest for more than an instant were the one thing
not to be endured. Ceaseless movement seems to be the nat-
ural state of the eye, as it is of the attention, and pleasure is
found only in this normal state.

The sources of our enjoyment of symmetry, therefore, are
not to be discovered in the form of the eye's behavior. A fig-
ure which has for us a satisfying balance may be brought to
the mind by most unbalanced ocular motions ; and during the
more symmetrical movements of the eye the observer may have
been disquieted by the sense that the figure was decidedly out
of balance.

The present experiments, therefore, help to clear the ground.
They make it easier for us to see that the explanation of a phe-
nomenon which has its blood-relations in the field of every one

96 G. M. STRATTON.

of our senses ought not to be sought in conditions that are con-
fined to any single sense. Linear symmetry is vitally con-
nected with such varied facts as the repetition of a figure in a
dance, or the refrain in song, or the working up of a theme in
symphonic composition, where the same melodic phrase may be
given, now on the strings and now upon the wind instruments,
or may without change of instruments be given now with one and
now with another harmonic setting. Such a musical transla-
tion is not so very far from what we have when a right-hand
linear arrangement is given a corresponding left-hand form and
the two are joined into a single figure.

Those who in explaining these things would say little or
nothing about eye-muscles and would say much about the
muscles of the limbs and trunk and viscera — such persons
would seem to me to be upon ground from which it would be
more difficult to dislodge them. There is no occasion here to
follow this other side of the theory which pins its faith upon
muscular sensations. The discussion of the present experi-
ments has been intentionally confined to the point of showing,
not that they disprove any muscular theory whatever, but that
they tend to make the eye-muscles appear a trifle ridiculous
when one compares their actual performances with the marvels
which have been attributed to them. The mythology of the
eye-muscles will some day make an interesting paragraph in
the history of delusions in psychology ; and we shall not be
long, I expect, in gaining the facts which will permit this my-
thology to be recognized and narrated.1

MS. of this article was received December 20, 1905. — ED.

ON SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDG-
MENTS.

BY;PROFESSOR ROBERT MACDOUGALL,

New York University.

The scientist sets before himself the ideal of a perfectly im-
partial account of the external world. In proportion as he frees
his work from personal prejudice is its outcome successful. The
facts may be unwelcome, they may run counter to his desires
and mean the overthrow of long-cherished ideals ; but these ele-
ments of sentimental valuation have no place in the world of
scientific truth ; except, indeed, as themselves matters for in-
vestigation and record like all other phenomena. To suppress
facts because they are at variance with an already accepted
theory, or to warp them in the direction of a desired interpreta-
tion, means the destruction of science ; it is a denial of the pos-
sibility of a system of objective knowledge. For it is the effort
of science to transcend the limitations of the individual and to
establish those principles which are independent of subjective
bias and form the body of truth common to all observers.

Deliberate distortion or suppression of facts the scientist does
not discuss. One guilty of such acts manifests a purpose which
is radically distinct from that of the investigator. The scientist
presupposes sincerity of purpose in the observer together with
honesty and reliability in the record, in so far as these results
are dependent upon the intention of the investigator. Honesty
of purpose, however, is but the starting-point of accuracy in the
record ; and the advance of science has involved at every stage
of its progress a renewed criticism of the conditions of observa-
tion, and an investigation of the possible sources of error to
which its methods are liable.

The personal or psychological factors of distortion which
thus appear in the report of an external event by any observer

9 ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

may be grouped in two classes, physical and mental. The first
of these embraces all the external conditions of observation, in-
cluding the mechanisms of perception ; the second consists of
the various sources of unconscious bias which inhere in the in-
tellectual processes of the observer. The former are relatively
stable and of comparatively easy correction. The computation
of their values is always incidental to the presentation of results.
Such are the correction for time and space differences, the cal-
culation of probable errors, the establishment of the observer's
personal equation, and the like.

Errors of the second class are of a different nature. Their
character is peculiarly personal and unpredictable, their range
undeterminable and their value largely unquantifiable. The
existence of such subjective bias in any given case may be as-
sumed, but its direction and amount can only be estimated in
the roughest and most general way from an acquaintance with
the mental habits of the observer. And even this correction
can be applied only to certain large features of a man's work,
such as his philosophical interpretation of scientific data. In a
multitude of cases it is wholly impossible to estimate the correc-
tion which should be made in an individual report, or even to
guess at the nature of the factors which are operative in the
process of subjective distortion ; and though the error thus in-
troduced is commonly trivial it may rise on occasion to great
and tragic importance.

To give an unprejudiced account of any event is a practical
impossibility. It takes shape within each individual conscious-
ness in dependence upon the dominant system of values and
modes of organization which that mind possesses ; and the vari-
ations in the reports given by any person and his fellows will be
proportional to the differences in interests and habits which
exist between them. These variations need not present dis-
crepancies,— though they commonly extend even to contra-
dictions— but may involve only changes in proportion and
emphasis. It is notorious that the violence of the external
stimulus alone does not determine the intensity or permanence
of the impression which is made upon consciousness in any given
case. The general habit of attending to such stimuli and the

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 99

openness of the mind at the moment are more important factors
than the absolute magnitude of the stimulus. In other words,
selective attention working under the guidance of our organic
interests operates upon the materials and processes of the ex-
ternal world, adding accentuation and emphasis, seizing upon
and preserving certain elements which we call pleasing or im-
portant, and relegating the rest to obscurity or oblivion. Often
the account in which this recasting results is unrecognizable by
a fellow-observer of the event. The existence of subjective bias
is thus not an incidental error in our observations but is funda-
mental to the very character of the human mind. We can con-
ceive its elimination only in an absolutely dispassionate con-
sciousness devoid of feeling and purpose.

This universal bias roots in the fact that at each moment of
our experience some one interest is for the time being paramount,
and determines both the objects which shall be attended to and
the interpretation which they shall receive. The nature of any
reality with which the mind concerns itself, whether objective
or subjective, is as much affected by every change in this sys-
tem of inner relations into which it is woven as is the appear-
ance of a physical object by being overturned and regarded
from a new point of view. One may identify the object with
that of the moment preceding, but at best it is the same with a
difference. A new set of angles appears and its relations with
other things have changed. The type of new crystallization
within the mind has given the object a fresh meaning through
the introduction of a novel system of emphases, and its charac-
ter as a mental object has thereby been transformed. The very
hold which an impression or idea has on the mind depends upon
the existing system of relations in which it is caught up, and
which is expressed in the temporary or permanent disposition
of the mind. It must in some way fit the purpose of the moment
or appeal to an organic habit if it is to take intelligible shape
before consciousness. While reading a book, for instance, one
disregards wholly the width of the margins, the smoothness,
rigidity and rectangularity of the covers, and the weight of the
volume, any one of which might, on another occasion, be the
important aspect to take into account in considering the object,

100 ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

if one were in search, say, of a paper-weight, a straight edge,
a writing-pad, or wished to make marginal comments upon the
contents. The perception of symmetry in visual forms, again,
expresses the fact that the mind wills to attend only to those lines
and masses which present geometrical balance ; for in every
such design the possibilities of unsymmetrical construction are
incomparably more manifold than those of the regular systems
upon which the eye dwells, and the apprehension of the latter
depends upon an ignoring of all that is formless or dispropor-
tionate, which can be referred only to the organic disposition of
the perceiving mind itself.

This subjective selection and emphasis pervades all mental
activities, perceptive, imaginative and rationalizing. It is ex-
pressed alike in the construction of an orderly world of objects
and space relations to which our senses give rise, and in the de-
termination of the course of ideal association in our purposeful
thinking. But this universal aspect of human consciousness
once acknowledged, we are no longer concerned with its exis-
tence. It is as proper to point out that it is the basis of intelli-
gibility in the world and of a rational adjustment to its changes,
as to recognize that the apprehension of that world varies from
moment to moment in dependence upon transitions in the point
of view and present purpose of the beholder.

It is only when a bias of the second order appears that the
detection of the presence and magnitude of the errors involved
assumes practical importance, when our types of confessedly
selective perception and representative thought are distorted by
factors of evaluation of whose presence we are unaware at the
moment of judgment. Such are the familiar space and time
errors of which account must be taken in reducing observations
involving position and movement, or comparisons of events in
serial order. Such are also the sources of unconscious preju-
dice which influence personal opinion of men and events.

The interest of the psychological student in these phenomena
does not concern the mere fact of their existence. The pres-
sence of such modifying influences may be presupposed in all
cases ; they are pervasive as gravitation. The judgment made
at any given moment reflects, in a way, the whole system of

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 101

stimulations, inner as well as outer — which is operative in de-
termining the cast of the mind at the moment. One's judgment
of the comparative intensity of a sound, for instance, depends
upon both the character of the auditory impressions which have
just preceded it, and the whole system of stimuli acting upon
the senses at the moment time ; as well as upon the physiolog-
ical activity of the body and conditions of attention and alert-
ness on the part of the subject.

The same holds true of all judgments concerning the quali-
ties and the relations of objects in the world about us ; and part
of the work of the psychological observer is of course to deter-
mine for all important modifying influences of this kind the
typical curves of value which they manifest in connection with
a series of systematic variations in their concomitants. The in-
vestigations of color-contrast, of hetero-sensorial reinforcement,
of the influence of distraction upon judgment, are cases in point.

One approaches a more obscure and difficult problem in
passing from investigations of sense perception and memory to
judgments based upon conceptual processes, or comparisons of
objects so complex that many significant relations exist between
them and the mind which judges. Especially is this the case
with all humanly real objects, those, namely, which do not simply
receive a fictitious existence in the laboratory, conferred for the
direct purpose of affording material for the judgment in ques-
tion, but which are reacted upon naturally and seriously because
they enter into real relations with the practical business of life.
In the latter case every significant point of view from which the
object has ever been regarded becomes a possible source of sec-
ondary bias ; its practical, its political, its aesthetic, its historical,
its religious value — each and all may affect one's judgment of
even its immediate physical characters.

We exaggerate the size of our gods and heroes, making
them " larger than human " not only because the conception of
bodily prowess so frequently lies back of the thought, but also
because the estimation in which we hold their political or moral
significance tends to be reflected in our representation of their
bodily appearance. The example is but an illustration of a
class of effects which, as in the former case, we may presume

102 ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

to be present, in some form or other and to some given extent,
in all such judgments. The important and familiar places of
the world, for instance, we should probably find to be located
by each person at points on the average nearer to himself, and
places historically or politically obscure at points more distant
than their actual geographical positions. In exemplification of
this general class of effects I have been at pains to determine
the existence and influence of certain forms of such secondary
bias in a single selected series of cases, the results of which are
presented in the remainder of this paper.

The inquiry arose from a discussion of the variability of
individual judgment with regard to the comparative weight of
bank-notes and coin, and the sources of constant error which
affected such estimation. The raising of this question led Dr.
J. F. Messenger to institute an inquiry the results of which
were published in the form of a note in Science , April 25,
1902. In his report the writer commented upon three things,
the comparative accuracy of judgment in the two sexes, the
amount of the constant error involved, and the influence upon
such judgments of the symbolic value of the bills in question.
With the last of these points the present inquiry began, as pre-
liminary to the larger series of comparisons to be reported later
in the paper. The question to be answered was of the simplest
character : How many bills together equal the weight of a silver
dollar? This question was asked concerning two denomina-
tions, one-dollar and ten-dollar notes.

It was impossible to ask for judgment on these two points
consecutively of the same person, consistently with the object
in view ; since the naivete of the subject's attitude which is
essential to the success of the inquiry would thereby have been
destroyed, and the calling of attention to the point in question
would certainly result, though in an unpredictable proportion
of cases, in a rectification of judgment, and the elmination of
that very error the presence of which in uncritical judgments
was the matter under determination. In order to approach the
question it was therefore necessary to obtain reports from two
groups of observers, taken as nearly as possible from the same
class of subjects, and in sufficient numbers to offset the disad-

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 103

vantage occasioned by the lack of direct comparison between
judgments made by the same individual. Those to whom the
question was put were all public school children of the five
upper grades. The selection of this class of subjects arose
partly from its accessibility, partly from the desire to note any
changes in the character of the judgments which appeared in
connection with advance in age. Comparison of the judgments
made by the two sexes will have to be reserved, as answers
have hitherto been received from classes of girls only. The
observers were all pupils of a single school, of such a size that
each of the grades in question was subdivided into sections, and
the two inquiries were made alternately of these groups. The
total number of answers received, — exclusive of those cast out
on account of defect — was 646, distributed as follows :

TABLE I.

Grade.

One Dollar.

Ten Dollar.

Total.

IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.

155
78
40
15

56
116
66
42
ii

123

271

144
82
26

Totals

355

291

646

Of this total the last group of 26 should probably be put aside
in considering the results, as the number is too small to form
the basis of any reliable conclusion in regard to a question in
which the index of variability is so high as it is here.

The average numbers of bills of each denomination judged
to equal the weight of a silver dollar by pupils of the various
grades are as follows:

TABLE II.

Grade.

One Dollar.

Ten Dollar.

Avcrfljfc.

IV.
V.
VI.
VII.

125
97
44
52

170

97
7i
68

Average.

124

79-5

101.5

VIII.

112

122

117

104 ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

The returns from the small group of eighth grade pupils
which appear at the bottom of the table, have not been included
in making up the averages. The remaining figures show a
considerable preponderance, for the whole series, and in each
grade at least an excess, in the number of bills of the lower
denomination over that of the higher which is judged to make a
weight equal to that of a silver dollar.

When the individual variability is so high as to include ex-
tremes of five, and twice as many thousands which appear in
these guesses at the weight of a banknote, it is only when a
decidedly large group of answers is taken into account that the
average possesses any real significance. The ratio presented
by any single grade may therefore be held undecisive ; but the
fact that the average number of one dollar bills is greater than
that of the tens in the ratio of 24 : 79.5 when the whole series
of 600 comparisons is considered, may be taken as settling at
least the question of the presence of this factor of secondary bias
in judgments of this nature.

Whether the prevalence of this type of confusion tends to
increase with age the present figures can hardly be said to show,
though the evidence which they afford is favorable to such a
conclusion. The intimacy of the association between the per-
ception of a bill of any denomination and its representative
value undoubtedly increases as one's familiarity with the use and
exchange of money grows. Without this experience the source
of error which appears in these judgments would of course not
exist, and it is during the years comprised within the present
series that the child acquires this knowledge. It may be said,
therefore, that the factor upon which the distortion of judgments
depends is taking on greater reality and importance during this
period, and that a progressive increase in the error might be
looked for. It is also true that if the series of four grades be
divided into junior and senior groups, the error in the latter will
be found nearly half as great again as in the former. Never-
theless the construction of such a curve demands both the deter-
mination of a large number of points and a more consistent se-
quence among them than is here presented.

Another developmental feature, it may be noted in passing, is

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 105

fairly well-marked in these papers. The number of bills which
equals the weight of a silver dollar, if we regard the quantita-
tive average solely, is consistently exaggerated, since its actual
value is about twenty ; but the amount of overestimation is suc-
cessively reduced from grade to grade, as appears from the
series of averages which is attached to Table II. in the last ver-
tical column. The judgment of the child concerning the weight
of bills in general is undergoing the progressive rectification, at
the same time that the element of secondary bias is, or may be,
increasing.

In any such case as the present, however, the figures al-
ready given leave one largely in the dark as to the real distri-
bution of the guesses. We need to know the constellation of
the judgments as well as their quantitative averages. The
mean of the series, which is the index of this distribution, is
given in the following table for each grade and denomination
separately :

TABLE III.

Grade.

One Dollar.

Ten Dollar.

IV.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

100

120

These figures suggest comparison with the results obtained
by Messenger, and by Pierce (Science, Nov. 7, 1902, p. 745)
from college students and other grown persons. In the first of
these reports the average (of all judgments) was 201 times and
the mean 8 times the actual number involved. In the second
(Dr. Pierce's group) the average was 15.8 times and the mean
4.3 times too great. In the present series the average for the
four grades considered is 10.2 times and the mean 1.3 times the
actual number. The data are perhaps not sufficient as regards
numbers for a valid comparison of the two series of judgments
and lack continuity through the intervening ages ; but the re-
sults of the observations so far accessible (based roughly upon
600 reports in each case) do at least show a striking difference
in the correctness of the estimates made by school children from

106 ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

nine to fifteen years of age, in the present series, and by col-
lege students or more mature persons, as reported by the two
investigators already quoted.

If the two sets of figures representing the quantitative aver-
age of the mean value of the median estimate for successive
years be compared they will be found to present inverse rela-
tions. The average is steadily reduced with age, the mean is
progressively increased. Of these two series the change in
the first indicates only the elimination of scattering judgments
which show an uncritical and excessive estimate. A larger
and larger number of the children, as they grow older, are
coming to have a more or less intelligent idea of the relations
of weight between the two objects. But these averages do not
necessarily mean that a more accurate apprehension of their
comparative weights is being developed among the members of
this group themselves. It does not even show the character
and changes of the constant error, if such exist. The index of
the latter is found in the series of median values ; and these
show that while the correction of extravagant misjudgments is
steadily lowering the quantitative average of the series, the ten-
dency of the majority of observers to underestimate the weight
of the bill is progressively mounting. If we may take the pres-
ent results and those with which they are here compared as typ-
ical — and the averages in each of the two cases are based
roughly upon 300 individual judgments — the perception of the
child — in these matters is much more accurate and free from
prejudice than that of the grown person ; and there is reason to
suppose from that part of the curve which the present investiga-
tion affords, that the carrying up of the reports through the in-
tervening years would show a fairly continuous series connect-
ing these extremes of judgment.

It may be worth while to call attention to another form of
secondary bias which these estimates of weight present. It ap-
pears in the distribution of individual judgments in relation to
odd and even numbers, and to decimal nodes, or * round num-
bers.' Out of the total series of judgments even numbers were
given in 517 cases, odd numbers — exclusive of unity and mul-
tiples of five — in 16 cases only. This preponderance arises

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 107

from the frequency of even tens, hundreds, etc. ; the occur-
rences of unity and odd multiples of five amount to 166, while
the total number of five-multiples is 590. l This clustering of
the judgments about decimal nodes and semi-nodes is shown
graphically in the diagram (Chart I.), in which the height above
zero of the vertical lines indicates the frequency with which the

UftrtZ.

z "

l£

100

' 6*

•

•if

•0-H

/o JLO

so /oo

't>oo

numbers at their bases occur in the returns, while that of the
horizontals between them represents the average for all the in-
tervening numbers. For further elucidation the numerical
values are put above their respective graphical indices.

The guesses may practically be said to consist of ones, fives,
tens, etc. The whole series of intervening numbers is repre-
sented by only one judgment in seven. Of these maxima, ' 10'
and * 100 ' occur with more than twice the average frequency of
the rest. The falling off in the * 1,000' judgment is due to the

1 In this later reduction only unintelligible papers were cast out, whereas
in the former case all but those which were wholly unambiguous were rejected.
For instance the answer ' 20 or 30 ' was now retained though previously elimi-
nated. The total number of observations, therefore, appears greater than
before.

108 ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

small total number of guesses which reached this magnitude,
but the attraction which ' round numbers ' possess is shown by
the fact that though this point lies near the upper limit of distri-
bution, the number of cases in which * 1,000' was given as the
estimate is three times that in which '500' occurred.

For comparison a second diagram (Chart II.) is appended
in which I have represented a set of figures given in a paper
by A. Williams in the Scientific American Supplement for
March 16, 1889, entitled ' Favorite Numbers.' These figures
were taken from the preceding United States census, and indi-
cate in terms of thousands the number of persons in Alabama
who reported themselves to be one of the ages named at the
bottom of the chart.

The strongly marked maxima at 30, 35 and 40 years need
not be pointed out, but it should be noted also that, as in the

CJuxTtlE.

l$" a? 3c «/ 9l 93 jy jr 86 37 ** 3? *° *'

present series of judgments, the maxima at the even tens are
higher than at the intervening fives. The peculiar form of this
curve must of course be wholly due to subjective distortion, and
the more abrupt contrast between the maxima and intervening
low plateaus in the preceding diagram is due to the greater
freedom of choice in estimating the weights than in reporting
ages. It is to be expected that in the upper tens, for example,
one should put the number at 70 rather than 69 or 71 ; but the

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 109

fact that a similar constellation appears among the series of
estimations running from unity to ten shows clearly the exis-
tence of this preference for particular numbers. The sum of
the judgments distributed among the numbers one, five, and
ten is 207, while the aggregate for the other eight is but 44, or
one twelfth as many to each number.

III.

The purpose of the main investigation, like that already de-
scribed, was to determine the influence exerted by secondary
associations upon one's representation of the physical qualities
and relations of objects. The special associations which guided
the selection of individuals were those of political and historical
importance. An exact order of precedence in such a case can-
not of course be established, since the valuation is subject to
fluctuations dependent upon the individual who passes judgment
upon the returns, but at least the whole series may be divided
into two groups according as the objects contained in them have
more or less importance of the kind in question, and compari-
son may roughly be made between the upper and lower regions
of this scale.

Four series were prepared, each consisting of ten objects
concerning which judgment was to be made, and the members
of these series were to be arranged according to what the obser-
ver conceived to be their real order. In cases of doubt bracket-
ing was to be avoided and the two or more objects put in serial
order, even if recourse to guessing was necessary. The adop-
tion of this method in such exceptional cases was based upon
the presumed existence of preference even in an allotment of
this kind ; but when the uncertainty extended to many of the
series this recourse would serve no good purpose, and the ob-
server left the returns uncompleted or untouched. As the dif-
ferences among the objects were fairly large and the order
merely relative the occurrence of imperfect lists was rare, and
all these were cast out in making up the returns.

The papers were first submitted to two university classes,
consisting of 55 women and 19 men of mature age ; they were
then sent to the Principals of five New York public schools and

ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

were marked under their supervision by 204 pupils distributed
as follows :

TABLE IV.

Age.

Total.

Boys.

Girls.

—

137

Total.

204

In the first list ten of the countries of the world were arranged
in alphabetical order and the observer was asked to give judg-
ment of their territorial extent, putting the figure (i) before the
largest, (2) before the next, and so on in order of size. In com-
puting results the returns were entered one beneath another on
a sheet of paper, the series in each individual return running
horizontally from one to ten. The average position assigned to
each country was then determined by dividing the sums of the
several columns by the number of reports received, and the
direction and amount of error was recorded in terms of plus and
minus deviation from the true position of each in the series.
Countries were marked plus (-f) when the position assigned
was too high in the scale, minus (— ) when it was too low.
The following illustration will obviate the necessity of referring
again to the method, which was followed in reducing all the
returns :

TABLE V.
SCHOOI, C ; GRADE 7 B, GIRI,S ; AGE 13 YEARS. LANDS.

A, Actual Order ; B, Average Order Assigned ; C, Error of Displacement.

A.
B.

4.00
8.14

8.00
8.58

5.00
2.92

7.00
7.00

6.00

5-33

IO.OO

6.42

3.00
5.92

I.OO
2.OO

9.00

7.50

2.00
1.25

—4.14

—0.58

+2.08

±0.00

+0.67

+3.58

—2.92

— I.OO

+1.50

+0.75

The returns from university students are classified below,
the alphabetical order in which the names were arranged in
the original list being replaced by that of deviation, the series
beginning with the highest overestimation and ending with the
greatest underestimation which occurs :

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. Ill

TABLE VI.

Countries.

Men.

Women.

Average.

Palestine,

+ 2.3

German Empire,

+ '•9

+ 2.0

+ 1.9

Switzerland,

+ 0.2

+ 1.2

+ 0.7

Italy,

+ 0-5

+ 0.6

+ 0.5

United States,

+ 0.6

+ 0.2

+ 0.4

Ceylon,

+ 0.4

±0.0

+ 0.2

Siberia,

— 0.7

—0.7

— 0.7

Iceland,

— 1-3

— I.I

— 1.2

Afghanistan,

— i.i

-1.9

-1-5

Peru,

— 2.4

— 2.5

— 2.4

In the returns from public school children which follow, the
results from the five schools are given separately from their
average under the headings A, B, C, D, E, for comparison as
to uniformity of arrangement :

TABLE VII.

Countries.

Av.

Palestine,

+ 2.4

+ 3-3

+ 2.5

+ 2.2

+ 2.5

+ 2.6

German Empire,

+ 1.8

+ 2.1

+ 2.8

+ 2.5

+ 2.3

Switzerland,

+ 0.9

+ 1-5

+ 1-9

+ 2.7

+ 2.0

+ 1.8

United States,

+ 0.7

+ 0.6

+ 0.7

Italy,

+ 0.4

+ 0.7

+ 0.5

+ 0.8

+ 0.6

Ceylon,

4- LI

— 0.7

+ 0.1

+ 0.6

— 0.4

+ 0.1

Iceland,

+ 0.1

— O.I

— 0.6

— 0.9

+ 0.1

— 0.3

Siberia,

— 1.2

-i-5

— 1.8

— 2.6

— 2.4

Afghanistan,

-1.6

— 3-3

— 2.7

— 2.6

— 2.9

— 2.6

Peru,

— 4-2

— 2.8

— 2.6

-3-6

— 3.1

— 3-3

Both of these tables present a systematic displacement which
differs fundamentally in its curve from that to which the pres-
ence of scattering errors would give rise. From the middle of
the group it rises by progressive increments of opposite signs to
extremes which are separated by five places, or half the value
of the series. Setting aside the question of detail, it is evident
from this distribution that the separation of the system into upper
and lower regions reflects the political and historical estimation
in which the constituent lands are held. The important coun-
tries are overestimated, the obscure underestimated, and if the
whole series should be divided into two groups on this prin-
ciple, all those called important will be found in the upper half
of the scale, all the obscure in the lower half.

112 ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

The comparison can be carried farther ; for the amount of
displacement of a country roughly parallels its degree of near-
ness or remoteness in our interest. The strongest evidence of
this is the resemblance which exist between the university and
school tables, which are identical except for two exchanges in
adjacent names, which in one case are separated by one half,
in the other by one tenth of a place only. It should be remem-
bered that when a limited series is taken the actual size of the
country may modify the predicted curve of displacement ; since
as the upper limit is neared the number of minus errors will
necessarily predominate, and the plus errors as one approaches
the lower extreme. This is shown in the case of the United
States, in which all the factors of secondary association which
predispose to exaggeration are at their highest, while yet the
country is overestimated by only half a point. The United
States is however second largest in the series, and the error at
its maximum could therefore be only unity.

There is another source of secondary bias which might be
expected to show in these tables. Geographical distance is
commonly associated with remoteness of interest; and where
not submerged by other and dominant factors of error, as in a
series of cities of the same class, or minor, physical features such
as rivers, its influence would doubtlessly be discernible. But
in the present case the actual distance becomes an insignificant
element in view of the facility of information and intimacy of
relation which may exist between places far apart. Peru is
nearer than Palestine, but is incomparably more remote in
every significant application of the term, and a series of ten
countries is quite too short to permit the demonstration of any
such minor factors of bias.

The second list comprised a series of ten rivers selected from
the four continents according to the same principle as in the
case of lands. The two sets of results are given in the tables
on page 113, university students in the first and school children
in the second :

The same general comments are to be made on these tables
as on those which preceded. The first six names are the same
in the two tables, though not in identical order, and the division

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 113

TABLE VIII.

Rivers.

Men.

Women.

Average.

Hudson,

+ 3-1

+ 3-6

+ 3-3

Thames,

+ 0.8

+ 3-9

+ 2.3

Danube,

+ 1-2

+ 1-4

+ 1.3

Rhine,

+ 0.1

+ 1.4

+ 0.75

Douro,

+ 1.3

+ 0.1

+ 0.7

Mississippi,
Mackenzie,

+ 0.9
— 0.7

+ 0.5
— i>5

+ 0.7
— i.i

Petchora,

— 1-5

— 1.2

— i«3

Orange,

— 2.2

Lena,

— 2.7

— 4-7

-3-7

TABLE IX.

Rivers.

Av.

Thames,

+ 4.6

+ 4.0

+ 4.6

+ 5.4

+ 4.5

+ 4-6

Hudson,

+ 3-5

+ 3-7

+ 4-2

+ 5-3

+ 5-5

+ 4-4

Rhine,

+ 1.9

+ i-9

+ i-3

+ 2.5

+ 2.0

Mississippi,

+ 0.9

+ 1.0

+ 0.9

Danube,

+ 1.8

— I.O

+ 0-9.

— 0.3

+ I'l

+ 0.5

Douro,

— O.I

— I.O

— 0.2

— i.i

—0.9

— 0.7

.Mackenzie,

— 2.7

— I.O

— 2.0

— 2.4

-2.6

— 2.1

"Orange,

— 2.3

—2.5

— 2.2

— 2.3

— 1.8

— 2.2

Petchora,

— 5-0

— 2.1

— 1.6

— 2.2

— 2.5

Lena,

-6.4

— 4-7

— 6.2

-6.4

— 6.1

-6.0

into plus and minus groups is just such as would be made on
the basis of historical importance. The Mississippi River, like
the United States in the previous list, falls low in the group
because it lies near the upper limit of the series, the greatest
possible error of overestimation being unity. The greater in-
fluence of association upon judgment in the present case, as
compared with that of countries, is shown in the range of vari-
ation, which here reaches a sum of seven places in one set of
figures and ten in the other.

The factor of nearness or remoteness is also perceptible in
the estimate of rivers, as appears from table X, in which the
series has been rearranged in order of distance from the city of
New York where the returns were made out :

In the judgments of both university students and school
pupils the members of the nearer group are overestimated on
the average 1.3 places, and those of the more distant group
underestimated to the same degree. The strong influence of
this factor of bias is shown in the fact that it is not only dis-

ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

cernible but pronounced in a series both so short as the present
and marked by such a major disguising feature as that which
guided the selection.

TABLE X.

Rivers.

University.

School.

Rivers.

University.

School.

Hudson,

+ 3-3

4-4-4

Rhine,

+ 1-3

+ 1-9

Mississippi,
Mackenzie,

+ 0.7
— I.I

-f 0.9
— 2.1

Danube,
Petchora,

— 1-3

2.2

+ 0.5
— 2.5

Douro,

+ 0.7

— 0.7

Orange,

— 3-7

— 2.2

Thames,

+ 2.3

+ 4-6

Lena,

+ 0.7

— 6.0

Average,

+ 1.18

+ 1.42

Average,

— 1.04

— 1.66

The third set of returns related to a group of American
cities, which consisted of the capitals, together with one other
place of importance, of five states of the Union. The names,
as usual, were arranged in alphabetical order; and so far as
came to the notice of the writer no one remarked the peculiar
distribution of the cities in question. In the tabulations which
follow, first of university students and second of school chil-
dren, the names are arranged in pairs from each state in order
to bring the errors of displacement into a clearer view :

TABLE XI.

Cities.

Men.

Women.

Average.

Albany, N. Y.,
Rochester, N. Y.,

+ 0.3

+ 0.5
— 1-7

+ 0.4
— 1.7

Trenton, N. J.,
Camden, N. J.,

— 0.3
— 3.2

+ 0.3
-3-6

± 0.0

— 3.4

Harrisburg, Pa.,
Allegheny, Pa.,

+ Ii
—3.6

+ 1.8
— 3.4

+ i.7
— 3-5

Springfield, 111.,
Quincy, 111.,

+ 5.0

— 0.8

+ 3-5
— 0.5

+ 4-2

— 0.6

Frankfort, Ky.,
Newport, Ky.,

+ 4.i
— i.i

+ 3-0
— i.i

+ 3.5
— i.i

In both these sets of figures the influence of secondary bias
is strongly marked. The size of the capital is almost uniformly
exaggerated, while that of the other cities is underestimated.
The error of displacement, whose extremes are separated by

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 115

almost nine places, is greater in regard to the distant cities,
smaller in those which are near, with the exception of Newport,
Ky. I can conceive no reason for this wholly anomalous case
unless it has been confused with Newport, R. I., the social
prominence of which might raise it to a position among the
places overestimated. With this exception the second table,
like the first, is consistent throughout.

TABLE XII.

Cities.

Average.

Albany, N. Y.,
Rochester, N. Y.,

+ 1-3
— 3-4

+ 1.4
— 2.5

+ 1.0

— 3.3

+ 0.8

-2.0]

+ 1.1
— 2.9

+ I.T
— 2.8

Trenton, N. J.,
Camden, N. J.,

— 0.3
— 3-3

— O.I

— 2.9

+ 0.3

— 3-4

— 0.2

— 3-1

— 1-5

— 3-4

— 0.2

— 3-2

Harrisburg, Pa.,
Allegheny, Pa.,

+ 34
— 5-3

-i-2.3
— 5-7

+ 1.5
-3-8

+ 2.5
— 4.1

+ 1.1
— 4.1

+ 2.2
-4.6

Springfield, 111.,
Quincy, 111.,

+ 3-8
+ 0.4

+ 4-8
— 1-3

+ 4-4
— 0.7

+ 3-7
— 1-7

+ 3-7
— 1.3

+ 4-i
— 0.9

Frankfort, Ky.,
Newport, Ky.,

+ 3-1
+ i-5

+ 3-5
+ 0.9

+ 2.9

+ 1-5

+ 3-9
+ 1.1

+ 2.9

+ 1.4

+ 3-3

+ 1-3

In this series it is useless to look for a demonstrable error of
displacement due to distance. The number of cities is altogether
too small for such a curve to be seen across the dominant bias
of political significance. Were the group enlarged, or taken
from cities of the same class, it would undoubtedly appear.

The fourth and final list consists of a series of historical
characters, monarchs, statesmen, explorers — belonging to vari-
ous nations, and covering in their range a fairly extensive
period. The observer was asked to arrange these in order of
time, with a view to ascertaining whether the important and
familiar personages were conceived to have lived in more recent,
the obscure and unfamiliar in more remote times than those in
which their lives actually fell. The results are given as before
in order of error quantitatively from plus to minus, the former
indicating in the present case an underestimation, and the latter
an overestimation, of the intervening period. The first table
gives the rating by university students :

The making up of such a list of men presents more difficulties

ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

than any of the preceding series, on account of the variability
of their associations not only among individuals but also among
groups, in consequence of which the form of the curve is sub-
ject to modification by other important forms of secondary bias
than that considered in the selection. For instance, it is to be
expected that the lines of national relationship should be ac-
centuated wherever the parentage of the observers is relatively
homogeneous, or that characters treated in pure literature
should present increased bias in the reports of educated and
reading subjects. It is probable, in this connection, that the
fascination which personages of romance and glory possess for
children has raised Harun al Raschid and Charlemagne to the
level which they hold in the returns from the public schools.

TABLE XIII.

Names.

Men.

Women.

Average.

Drake,

+ 3-3

+ 2.3

+ 2.8

Champlain,

+ 2.5

+ 1-5

+ 2.0

Joan of Arc,

-M-3

+ 2.0

+ 1.6

Charlemagne,

+ 1.0

+ 1.8

+ 1.4

Harun al Raschid,

+ 0.1

+ 1.1

+ 0.6

Richelieu,

—0.5

±0.0

0.2

Franklin,

— 0.3

— 0.5

— 0.4;

LaSalle,

— 0.6

— 1.6

I.I

Gustavus Adolphus,

— 3-0

— 2.9

Mazeppa,

— 3-9

— 3-7

— 3-8

TABLE XIV.

Names.

Av.

Charlemagne,

+ 3-3

+ 4-4

+ 4-9

+ 3-9

+ 4-5

+ 4-2

Harun al Raschid,

+ 2.9

+ 2.5

+ 4.1

+ 2.1

+ 3-9

+ 3-1

Drake,

+ 1.1

+ 1-9

+ 0.9

+ 2.3

+ 2.5

+ 1.7

Joan of Arc,

+ 1.6

+ 0.4

+ 0.8

+ 1.6

+ 1.8

+ 1.2

Champlain,

+ 1.2

+ i.5

+ 0.8

+ 1.2

+ 0.2

+ 1.0

Richelieu,

-1-3

— 0.9

-0.6

— i-3

+ 0.2

— 0.8

Gustavus Adolphus,

— 2.4

— 1-3

— 1.3

— 2.2

— 2.0

— 1.8

Franklin,

— 0.6

— 1.4

— 2.3

— 1.8

— 3-9

— 2.0

LaSalle,

— 3-1

— 2.1

— 3-3

— 2.1

— 3-5

— 2.8

Mazeppa,

— 4.0

— 4.1

— 3-i

-3-8

-3-2

-3-6

The aim in selecting the names comprised in the list was
to avoid such special forms of bias by scattering them widely
while ensuring general acquaintance with the characters chosen.
The most unsatisfactory single feature of the group is of course

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 117

that of Franklin, who is at once the most recent and probably
the most familiar of the series. No positive error therefore can
ever occur in his case ; and the name which would head the list
were free displacement allowed appears here in the lower half
of the scale. Nevertheless in spite of the change of direction
in general interests which comes with age, the plus and minus
groups are identically constituted in the two sets of returns.
The illusion of relative perspective in time which is established
in childhood concerning the great names of the world is neither
corrected nor importantly modified in later life.

Several minor points remains to be noted in connection with
the results in general. The reader may wish, in the first place,
to know the relative magnitude of the average error for each
class of objects respectively ; in other words, which of these
four groups of judgments manifests the greatest influence of
secondary bias. This is shown in the following table :

TABLE XV.

Class.

Lands.

Rivers.

Cities.

Men.

Average.

Schools,
University,

1.6

1.2

2.6

i-7

2.4
2.0

2.2

i-7

2.2
1.6

Average,

1.4

2.15

2.2

i-95

1-9

A question may arise as to the nature of the prevailing type
of error which gives form to the curves presented in this paper.
A single displacement will produce in the results as many in-
dividual errors as the number of places it is removed plus one,
and all of the series but one will be of the sign opposite to that
which attaches to its own error. Thus if the fifth river of the
series were put tenth its displacement would be — 5, and the
five rivers passed over would each suffer an error of + i. The
frequency of plus and minus errors, independently of their
quantitative values, therefore indicates the tendency which pre-
vails in the judgments. These totals have been made out for
the school children in relation to the ages of the pupils as shown
in table XVI., which gives the average number of plus errors
per series of ten judgments :

The two sexes are given separately, as their average would
tend to obliterate the differences which exist. At all ages plus

ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

errors are in the majority among boys, while in the case of girls
an excess occurs but once. In so far as the figures have sig-
nificance boys tend to err through the presence of positive un-
derestimation of the less important members of the series, girls
through overestimaiion of the more important. The intellec-
tual illusion arises in the boy's case from ignoring the things
which are of little interest ; the girl errs through unduly mag-
nifying the objects which she values. There appears also in
the former case a progressive reduction in the excess of plus
errors, which indicates the replacement of fewer and extrava-
gant displacements by more frequent and systematic errors of
interpretation.

TABLE XVI.

Class.

ii.

12.

13-

14.

JS-

16.

Boys,
Girls,

5-7

5-5
4-9

5-4
5-4

5-2
5-0

4-7

In the next place, the influence of these forms of secondary
bias is manifested to a greater degree in the reports of school
children than in those of university students as shown in Table
XV., above, in which the figures indicate the average error of
displacement in each series of objects for all observers con-
cerned. In every class of judgments the mature group of
subjects shows a more correct apprehension of the actual char-
acter and relations of the things compared than do the school
children. Better acquaintance with the nature of these things
through travel and reading, with possibly a more or less con-
scious recognition of and allowance for the element of subjec-
tive bias itself, has clarified the imaginative representation of
them in the minds of the older persons.

Within the series of ages which the school returns comprise
no correlation between age and decreasing error can be traced,
the indices running as follows :

TABLE XVII.

Age.

ii.

12.

13-

14.

15-

16.

Boys,
Girls,

!i3

2.0

2.4

2.2
2-3

2-5
2-3

2-3
2-3

2.8

Average,

2-3

2.2

2.4

2-3

2.8

SECONDARY BIAS IN OBJECTIVE JUDGMENTS. 119

The sexes are distinguished by an almost invariable differ-
ence in the magnitude of the errors involved. Men are more
correct in these classes of judgments than women, and boys
than girls. The figures for university students are given in the
first of the following tables, those for the school children in the
second :

TABLE XVIII.

Classes.

Men.

Women.

Lands,
Rivers,
Cities,
Men,

I.I4
1-45
2.19
1.65

1.25
2.05

1.94

1.74

Average,

1.61

1.72

TABLE XIX.

Class.

Boys.

Girls.

Lands,
Rivers,
Cities,
Men,

1-59
2.56
2-57
2.23

2.00
3-20

2.60
2.70

Average,

2.24

2.62

This slight but persistent excess of error on the part of girls
and women falls in with popular judgment concerning the sus-
ceptibility of mind in the two sexes to factors of subjective bias
in general. The woman is supposed to be more prone to have
her judgment of things and their relations in the external world
distorted by the influence of their various symbolic values ; the
man is regarded as more objective and impartial in his appre-
hension of the contents of experience. Man's knowledge is
discursive and the manifold aspects of reality are held in rela-
tively independent regard, while in woman's mind the various
interpretations of the world tend to overflow and confuse the
classifications to which their special points of view give rise.

For the convenience of those who may wish to compare
their own series of judgments with the results here presented
the various countries, rivers, cities and men are given in correct
order in table XX. :

120

ROBERT MACDOUGALL.

TABLE XX.

Lands.

Rivers.

Cities.

Men.

Siberia

I/ena

Rochester

Charlemagne

United States

Mississippi

Allegheny

Harun al Raschid

Peru

Mackenzie

Albany

Joan of Arc

Afghanistan

Danube

Camden

Drake

German Empire

Orange

Trenton

Champlain

Italy

Rhine

Harrisburg

Richelieu

Iceland

Petchora

Quincy

Gustavus Adolphus

Ceylon

Douro

Newport

LaSalle

Switzerland

Hudson

Springfield

Mazeppa

Palestine

Thames

Frankfort

Franklin

The MS. of this paper was received December i, 1904 ; the delay in its
publication is accidental and regrettable. — ED.

MIND AS INSTINCT.

BY PROFESSOR JOHN E- BOODIN,

University of Kansas.
THE PROBLEM STATED.

The thesis I wish to maintain in this paper, for purposes
of simplification, is that all of our adjustments or categories,
viewed from the individual or causal point of view, are instinct-
ive or organic adjustments ; that the stimuli, which constitute
the environment, are simply the occasion for calling into play
the structural tendencies of the organic growth series and that
such categories, as recapitulation, imitation, and accommodation
are pseudo-categories, stating certain results from the point of
view of another consciousness, but not explanatory of the real
process of consciousness. This I believe to apply to the whole
history of individual consciousness, and not simply to its initial
stages. If this thesis is true, there is no such thing as acquired
characteristics, and progress must take place through sponta-
neous variations and natural selection.

The old idea of the evolution of consciousness as a continu-
ous series, statable in terms of simpler processes from which
the more complex were supposed to be compounded, has gradu-
ally become a thing of the past. Sensationalism, simple and
plausible as it seemed, has been proven inadequate, and psy-
chology is now looking not to chemistry, but to evolutionary
biology for its cue. The reason for the discontinuity of the
psychic series or its leaps and starts is that psychological process
waits upon biological structure ; and only when the biological
conditions are complete do the new forms of consciousness leap
forth as mysteriously as the wonders in rubbing Aladdin's lamp.
The lamp is the thing, and just that kind of lamp, though of
course the magic result would not follow unless the lamp were
rubbed. With the perfection of the mechanism of the eye, to
use Loeb's illustration, and the complicated structural conditions

121

122 JOHN B. BO ODIN.

for sight, light leaps into being. So with the mechanism of the
ear and the wondrous world of sound.

The stages of consciousness at any rate are abrupt, however
graded may be the development of the structural conditions.
First of all, whether there is prenatal consciousness or not, con-
sciousness waits upon certain antecedent structural conditions
before it appears at all. Before the appearance of conscious-
ness the foetus in response to certain stimuli of temperature and
blood supply has already unfolded a structural series embodying
the revolutionary results of variations and survival of untold
ages. But the unfolding of structural characteristics does not
stop with the appearance of the first vague consciousness. In
obedience to stimuli, intra- and extra-organic, the organism con-
tinues to grow and to develop new structural characteristics, and
as the structural conditions reach certain stages of complexity
there appear new forms of conscious response. Let us for our
purpose state the dramatic stages as three : First, sensitiveness
or immediate consciousness ; secondly, associative memory and
expectancy ; thirdly, reflection, the analyzing out or making
focal, to use Lloyd Morgan's term, certain relations and ab-
stracting them for the better manipulation of the concrete situa-
tion. Now the thesis here maintained is that the successive
appearance of each of these stages of development, with all
their intermediaries, is equally organic and abrupt, the unfold-
ing or growth of a structural series in obedience to certain
stimuli, which do not make the series any more than the heat of
the incubator makes the chicken, but which are simply the con-
ditions calling forth the series ; the stages of development from
first to last, as well as what stimuli are effective, being deter-
mined by the nature of the organism, which again is what it is
as a result of spontaneous variation and natural selection.

It is wrong to suppose with many recent psychologists and
biologists that the human brain is essentially unorganized and
that the environment organizes it. The environment, whether
physical or social, can only furnish stimuli. The human brain
is far more complex and minutely organized than that of any
other being. But while the brain of the animals below man has
a comparatively short dynamic span and the few instincts appear

MIND AS INSTINCT. 123

practically together and mature shortly after birth, the human
organism has a long dynamic span with an organic series of
instincts maturing in a certain order. Natural selection has
here provided for an hierarchy of instincts. But the law of
development is the same : a certain congenital structural order
unfolds itself in response to certain stimuli. That this structural
development is in response largely to post-natal and extra-
organic stimuli in the human being does not alter the instinctive
character of the process. If we define instinct as a response to
stimulus determined by congenital structure, then we may
reduce all mental process to the category of instinct. The only
question is as between earlier and later or simpler and more
complex instincts. What must not be forgotten is that the
growth order of our instincts, as well as the number of our
instincts, is congenital. How it is that a growth order can be
inherited and in what way the seemingly indefinite protoplasmic
material can develop in mere response to stimuli a series of
tendencies is as dark as is the problem of causation generally ?
and of transmission of characteristics at all in particular. We
do not doubt, however, the innateness of the sexual response,
though it is conditioned in the case of a human being by a com-
plex and long series of structural growth. This one instance
ought to convince us that the survival variations operate not
only sectionally, but longitudinally in the stream of develop-
ment. The absurd supposition of the English empiricists that
innate is synonymous with that with which we are born and
that the rest is acquired, is once and for all exploded by biology.
Development before and after birth is due alike to an inner
structural tendency unfolding in response to stimuli.

To suppose, therefore, as contemporary psychology still
does, that the higher mental activities are complications of lower
activities, that, for example, associative memory is simply the
result of sensations and habit, that concepts are only a specific
kind of association, and that thus the higher strata of experience
are built right up from the lower is simply substituting chemical
metaphors for explanation. If images were the complication of
sensations merely, why is it that some of the animals lower in
the scale, which show signs of sensation and habit, never

124 JOHN E. BOO DIN.

acquire images? They must have sensations enough — prob-
ably a larger variety than Helen Keller. And, again, if con-
cepts and judgments are simply associations, why is it that ani-
mals with complex associative mechanism do not show any sign
of abstract analysis? It is surely not the fault of stimuli, as
they are surrounded by the same world in which we exist, hear
the same sounds, and have the same variety of light and color.
The higher types of reaction are not, therefore, compounded
out of the simpler, though they may presuppose these. They
are the result of structural development, not of functional adap-
tation. Given the inner structural equipment and we cannot
help remembering and reasoning, but without that stimuli are
of no avail. Let us now inquire a little more in detail into the
stages of instinct.

STAGES OF DEVELOPMENT AND THEIR CHARACTERISTIC

INSTINCTS.

Each of the stages or leaps of development mentioned above,
sensitiveness, associative memory and reflection, has its own
characteristic instincts, which emerge with the structural growth
of which the above stages of consciousness are the coefficients.
I do not deny that there are intermediary stages less dramatic,
but those we can afford for our purposes to neglect. Nor must
I be understood as holding that associative memory and reflec-
tion are in any sense creative of instincts. On the contrary,
the later instincts may be said to be creative of them. They
are simply the structural machinery which has proved service-
able, if not essential, in the unfolding of certain instincts, and
hence this machinery has been grafted on the instincts or become
congenital.

i. The Sensitive Stage and the Primary Instincts.

The instincts on the sensitive stage, and before that on the
merely physiological, are relatively simple and general in char-
acter. They respond to a relatively primitive environment.

Looked at from a later point of kview they are altogether
egoistic, i. e., they have to do with individual preservation, in
the way of defensive and food getting series of reflexes. An

MIND AS INSTINCT. 125

intricate series of structural adaptations has become purely me-
chanical when we have a chance to observe, such as the ma-
chinery for digestion, circulation, breathing, etc. If natural
selection, acting upon spontaneous variations, has been able to
perfect such a network of interrelated processes, with such con-
tinuity of operation as we find, for example, in digestion, from
the preparatory seizing, deglutition and swallowing until the
substances are converted into blood or carried off as excrement,
we ought not to be staggered at the thought that our adjust-
ments in general are a chain forged by natural selection and
simply rattled off by the environment, making due allowance
for the mechanical character of this figure.

The instincts that are usually credited to a human infant are
such as grasping, sucking, crying and sneezing. A compari-
son is drawn between the human infant and the chicken, for
example, to the advantage of the latter. That is misleading,
however, as the human chick is still being fledged in response
to external stimuli. Thus the development of sense and motor
coordinations, and the coordinations of the senses with each
other during the first weeks of the human infant are no less in-
stinctive though they take place partly in response to extra-or-
ganic stimuli. It is the growth series of the organism that pro-
duces the instincts. The extra-organic stimuli stand in no
different relation to the child than the prenatal stimuli to the
chicken. The superiority of the child's development lies in the
larger range of its stimuli, not in its less instinctive character.
The same maybe said of the more complex motor coordinations
for walking. These are not learnt by experience. They de
veloped even when an absurd system of swaddling clothes pre-
vented functional adaptation. The human being is simply a
long time being fledged. Using later categories, as we are
forced to, we may say that the infant reactions at the outset are
more general than those of the chicken, though here too we have
to be cautious, as the reactions of the chicken are probably much
more general than was supposed by early investigators. The
chicken, according to Morgan, does not have a special response
for the hawk, though it has a certain response for a certain
kind of stimuli that have instinctive terror. It is probable that

126 JOHN E. BOOD1N.

instincts even lower down start as universals, but that does not
prove that the process for making them more definite is any less
instinctive. Only that natural selection has deferred this part
of the series until extra-organic stimuli should be available.

If we look at the conscious side of the more primitive in-
stinctive adjustments we find ourselves on a rather speculative
foundation. Where consciousness is not efficient, its presence
must naturally be conjectural, and a large number of reactions
not only in the lower animals but in human beings can be
treated as tropisms. The going off of the early instincts is
largely a penny in the slot affair, to use Lloyd Morgan's figure.
Consciousness is at first at most a spectator. If consciousness
is present the proper working of the slot is accompanied by a
pleasure value, the improper by pain. Thus likes and dislikes
on one hand and reactions, advantageous and disadvantageous
to the organism, on the other tend to coincide. But it would
be wrong on that account to emphasize the part of pleasure-
pain in the evolution of instincts, for, on the one hand, com-
plex structural adaptations exist which seem purely physiolog-
ical, and on the other hand, where pleasure and pain now
indicate survival value, it is simply because as a result of the
sorting of natural selection they have survived. Where the
environment changes rapidly and where the law of natural
selection has not chance to operate, pleasure and pain are not
sufficient guides. Witness the cows transplanted to South
America, which took pleasure in poisonous weeds, and the
birds on the South Sea Islands spoken of by Darwin, which
lacking the instinct of fear toward man paid the penalty until
they were either exterminated or established the instinct. Wit-
ness, too, the large number of pleasures in human beings such
as indulgence in opium, alcoholic liquors, and various forms of
sexual excess which are pernicious and on which the law of nat-
ural selection has yet failed to operate. Pleasure and pain
have indeed become a vital part of the functioning of some in-
stincts, though of others not. It surely would be absurd to try
to state our primary instinctive reactions in terms of mere sub-
jective teleology, as some seem inclined to do at present.

The stimuli which make the slot work may be qualitative

MIND AS INSTINCT. 127

differences, such as loud sounds or brilliant lights, or they may
be behavior stimuli, which call forth similar movements in the
individual. But in either case we have simply a stimulus as
setting off a congenital structure. The reaction on behavior
stimuli is sometimes called imitation. But this is the signifi-
cance of the reaction to the psychologist, who compares it with
the behavior stimulus. It is not imitation or accommodation to
the child or animal. It is simply a case of a fascinating stimu-
lus, which is only another name for fitting the slot and the slot
going off. Interest always waits on tendency. If the child
prove to deviate or to be original in its imitation from the spec-
tator's point of view, that is because it does not imitate but
responds to the stimulus in a way dictated by its structural ten-
dencies. If it continues the process, that is not for the sake of
approximation, but because given such structural tendencies it
cannot help going off and feeling a satisfaction in the process.
Sometimes instincts are explained as recapitulation, and they
do indeed have a long survival history back of them. But to
call them recapitulatory is again the point of view of the exter-
nal observer who compares the reactions with those of ancestors.
But the individual on the level of sensitive consciousness at any
rate does not act to recapitulate his ancestors. The spring for
the action must be found in his own organic machinery, whether
it agrees or disagrees with that of his ancestors. There is no
such thing as evolution in the sense of simply marching the old
categories upon the stage again as implied in recapitulation.
The machinery for imitation, accommodation, and recapitu-
lation only exists when the individual has in mind a copy of the
behavior of others, whether past or present. But even on that
level the springs for the action must be sought in the individual
structural tendencies. He does not imitate because of imitation
or recapitulate because of recapitulation, but because he is
wound up in such a way that such stimuli appeal to him or set
him off. Such categories as imitation, accommodation, and
recapitulation are not explanatory categories, they are simply
comparisons as made by an observer external to the process.
They are pseudo-categories.

1 2 8 JOHN E. BO ODIN.

2. Associative Memory and the Secondary Instincts.

While the stimuli are playing the primary tendencies and
under the shelter of the parental and other social instincts of the
individuals of its immediate environment, the organism is busy
perfecting the structure for the later instincts with their more
complex machinery. These we may call secondary, though
that does not mean that they are less instinctive. They only
presuppose a greater structural differentiation. Lloyd Morgan
speaks o± the mother hen protecting the chick from the law of
natural selection. That is true in the chick's individual ca-
pacity, but we must not forget that it is as a result of natural
selection that the parent has its parental instincts which shelter
the newly developed chick. Before the chick has social feel-
ings it has the shelter of social feelings. Natural selection has
operated to produce a group supplementation of instincts. It
can thus telescope the undeveloped structure into the later struc-
tures of other individuals, at the same time providing in the
behavior of the more developed members of the group the
stimuli to call off the dynamic tendencies of the immaturer
developing structure, thus lengthening the dynamic span and
increasing its developmental possibilities. It must be remem-
bered, however, that the social environment occupies exactly
the same relation to the developmental series as the physical.
It can only furnish the occasion or stimuli for calling off the
dynamic series. There is no social heritage in any other sense
than there is a physical heritage, a set of stimuli, pennies for
the slot that will make it go off, if they fit.

Looked at from the point of view of race history, the mechan-
ism for associative memory must be regarded as a lucky varia-
tion or an accumulation of variations which make it possible to
live an experience again, given an internal or external cue ;
which make it possible, therefore, to guide the present beck of
stimuli with reference to consequences of past experience, thus
making instinct more definite and serviceable, a reaction on
particulars and not merely on a vague kind. The survival value
of such an organic leap must have been momentous. For what-
ever history of accumulations of survival this machinery may
represent on its structural side, from the point of view of con-

MIND AS INSTINCT. 129

sciousness it is a radical leap. There is no way of reducing
efficient consciousness into simply mere consciousness of the
concomitant or spectator kind ; no way in which the play of
immediate impulse with its simple machinery of tedious trial,
gradual elimination, and dumb, monotonous habit can be made
to yield a picture of the past result and a short cut to reaction
on the basis of it. Using the penny-in-the slot illustration again
a new mechanism has been introduced into the slot that not only
makes the slot register its going off, but also uses as guide the
structural picture in its next going off.

But the new machinery is still essentially a slot. It is con-
ditioned through and through by organic tendencies : organic
tendency in the form of instinct conditions interest ; organic ten-
dency in the form of habit makes dynamic continuity possible ;
and organic tendency as specialization of structure conditions
the kinds of imagery or content the operation shall have. While
the machinery, therefore, is vastly more complex and immensely
more efficient in its greater scope of coordination and its greater
economy of effort, it remains as organic or instinctive in charac-
ter as before.

With the perfecting of the machinery of associative memory
there leap into being in their proper order a totally new group
of instincts, the social instincts. While these instincts are con-
ditioned by the more complex structural machinery, that does
not mean that they are the result of associative memory. The
latter might make us more efficiently egoistic, but could not
change our fundamental attitude. The social instincts are
rather the rationale of the more complex machinery than vice
versa. Only thus could the social instincts become efficient.
But with these instincts and the associative mechanism the indi-
vidual is equipped for the beginnings of group life with new
possibilities and necessities of survival variations.

That associative memory and the fundamental social in-
stincts are interdependent is shown not only by observing the
coincident appearance of the two in the development series, but
more conclusively by the vivisectional and pathological methods.
In the experiments of the removal of the hemispheres of the
dog, the pigeon, and the frog, for example, it has been shown

130 JOHN E. BOODIN.

that all social, which here means primarily sexual, response
vanishes together with associative memory. The same is shown
in wide-spread injury in the human brain, in such a case as
that cited in Huxley's essay on Animal Automatism, and in the
recent case in Paris of a human being born without hemispheres.
Regarding the matter merely logically, it is hard to see what
social could mean apart from representation, though representa-
tion can be conceived without sociability. But while the social
instincts thus wait upon a certain structural development that
makes them no less organic and fundamental in nature.

There are, properly speaking, no such things as social cate-
gories. Imitation, sympathy, the whole list of sexual, parental
and more general group responses, constituting social fitness,
must be reduced to individual variations, which have proved to
have survival value and which in turn have come to condition
the survival of individuals exceptionally lacking or over-redun-
dant in such variations. What environment furnishes and all
it can furnish is the stimuli and the survival conditions.

3. Reflection and the Tertiary Strata of Instincts — The
Ideals or Sentiments.

While the environment is finally playing the primary and
secondary instincts, and under the shelter of the later ideal ten-
dencies or sentiments of the group, the human organism is per-
fecting its structural machinery for the issuance of a new set of
instincts — demands that have to do with the unity and meaning
of experience. Given a certain complexity of our registering
slot, and there appears the power of analysis and abstraction.
This again is a leap, perhaps the most wonderful leap of all.
Consciousness by a new device is able to hold its head above
the passing stream and survey the before and after. It no
longer merely is but sees the passing events. From the point
of view of race history it means a lucky structural variation
or accumulation of them, which changed the whole course of
evolution by giving meaning to the process and thus establishing
new survival values. With the individual, however, reason-
ing, as habit and associative memory, is congenital, appearing
when the proper structural series has been passed through in

MIND AS INSTINCT. 131

response to the stimuli of the environment, which now first
become problems.

Some psychologists have held that reasoning has its begin-
ning in language and that it is in language that man is especi-
ally superior to the animals below him. But language in some
form can exist without reasoning, as is shown in animal life and
as people's creeds and platforms still testify. Given the struc-
tural machinery for abstraction, and language becomes an
indispensable instrument and so has developed to answer the
demands of reflection. Nor can reason or meaning be reduced
to lower forms of consciousness. It is not more of dreamy
association, however complex the latter may become. It is a
new attitude. However much its genesis may exceed our com-
prehension, we have now the structural machinery for holding
ourselves, i. £., our primary and secondary instincts, at arm's
length and looking at ourselves, a mechanism which furnished
us with those tools by means of which we can break up our
world and select those relations and objects that have mean-
ing and value for us, instead of dealing with the world as a
collection.

With the structural machinery for reason there appear a new
group of tendencies, demands for simplicity and consistency,
for unity and wholeness, for truth, for right, for happiness, for
beauty, for a religious and philosophic setting for our tendencies
or needs. From the vantage ground of this new structural dif-
ferentiation the primary and secondary instincts can be surveyed
and evaluated, and a whole constituted. Yet our bias for sim-
plicity and consistency, our sentiments for truth and beauty,
are in their deepest roots instinctive, however luminous they
have made the pathway of life. The deepest attitudes towards
the universe were never invented by man ; they are not the
result of a consensus of opinion ; they are presupposed, on the
contrary, in all our reflections upon life. Without them we
should not have raised the question of why and wherefore nor
have felt the need of a consensus of opinion. Our highest
activities, therefore, no less than the most primitive, move within
instinct, are the response of our organism to the call of the
environment. Before these instinctive demands existed there

132 JOHN E. BOODIN.

was no call, for the environment spoke to deaf ears ; there was
no riddle of the Sphinx, only a vacant stare ; no order, but only
the passing show of meaningless events.

It has been said as a criticism against Kant that his cate-
gories are shot out of a pistol. This is true of reflection gener-
ally, as well as its fundamental categories. Reflection, analysis
or meaning, when it appears is not more complex associations
merely. It is a radically new attitude. It did not grow out of
previous non-reflective experience, however complex. Stimuli,
intra- and extra-organic, have been acting upon the organ-
ism. These have been the occasion for the organism unfolding
its structural series, according to its own inner dynamic unity,
until at the beck of the ever-active environment there leaps forth
reason, abruptly as Athena leaped from the head of Zeus and
mysteriously as Aphrodite rose from the sea. The self is awake
instead of dreaming. This could not be due simply to the call
of the environment, for that has been comparatively stable.
Rather the reason for the call being a call must be sought in
the new structural conditions perfected for the purpose. Just
as sexual love appears at a certain stage of development, when
certain structural conditions have been completed, and a totally
new response is made to old stimuli, so reason appears suddenly
and unsolicited, when the structural series reaches a certain
stage. We ought to speak, therefore, of falling into reflection
as we speak of falling in love. This I need not say has nothing
to do with Flechsig's attempt to establish a distinct anatomical
center for higher mental processes. This theory no more
stands or falls with his success or failure than does the instinc-
tive character of sexual love with the phrenological bump of
amativeness.

What has been said of the more general categories holds
equally for the more particular preferences and tastes that go to
differentiate one individual from other individuals. Imitation
no more on the higher than on the lower levels creates tenden-
cies ; but a certain stimulus is the fascinating thing, because a
certain structure is set off. The illuminating sanity of James,
Royce's aesthetic bias for an Hegelian absolute, and Miinster-
berg's love of diaelectic — all are organic, i. £., condition, and are

MIND AS INSTINCT. 133

not made by environmental stimuli. There is a certain sameness
indeed in our categories and preferences, in-so-far as we are
normal, due to survival conditions. This is especially true of
our moral tendencies which would be especially concerned.
Beyond the dead level, however, which keeps us out of the
penitentiary or the insane asylum, our tendencies or preferences
vary vastly. Here natural selection is tolerant of sports, and
the more so the more evolution progresses. This helps us to
understand the different tastes which become creative of such
different types in philosophy and art. It also accounts for the
utter lack of finer aesthetic or philosophic appreciation in the
larger number of men. These are so far aristocratic varia-
tions.1 Yes, if we are poets or artists or philosophers or sci-
entists at all, we are born such, and not only to the class but
to that particular type that characterizes our contribution from
that of others, though of course owing to a defective environ-
ment our tendencies may never be played so as to develop the
possible scale of values. Only the other day I was startled by
the striking resemblance between a cabman and a great philoso-
pher that I know. Had the environment played the scales with
some degree of skill, the cabman might have been a philosopher
and with a different set of stimuli the philosopher might have
been a cabman. Again, we find too often those lacking evolu-
tionary qualifications holding down the job ; and men without
philosophic insight respond with a feigned adjustment of mere
words, as the color blind man classifies the beautiful world of
colors in his own series of dull grays. Sometimes the lack of
native equipment is in more elementary tendencies as in the in-
capacity shown by some people for the rudiments of number or
language, sometimes it seems a lack of the more fundamental
moral tendencies, though the clumsy and unnatural order of
our stimuli may be responsible rather than the native equip-
ment. Out of the young criminals committed to the Iowa In-
dustrial School at Eldora about eighty per cent, turn out honor-
able men.

1 Of course, in the progress of civilization, tendencies such as the higher
aesthetic may become more universal as an equipment of the race ; and ' he
that hath no music in himself may in such a state of society be regarded as
* fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ' and dealt with accordingly. A higher
moral equipment, at any rate, is gradually demanded.

134 JOHN E. SO ODIN.

If we say that what is native is docility, then at least we
shall have to use the plural or docilities, because docility in one
direction need not mean docility in another. But what does
docility mean? Is it not like imitation, a mere name for a
result? Is not man docile in very much the same sense that the
slot is when the proper coin is put in and it works? A man
may be docile as regards things intellectual and not to things
aesthetic, to one kind of intellectual things rather than to another,
and to one kind at one stage of his development, to another
kind at another stage. Docility, then, must find its explanation
in the fact that certain tendencies or instincts can be set off by
a certain kind of stimulus.

While the machinery of reason was evolved for the sake of
the earlier instincts and those that came into being with it, the
machinery in some individuals, as a result again of variation,
has become detached from the earlier strata and runs with
wheels free. This is one of the forms of play, in other words,
and the mechanism of reflection thus subserves a double pur-
pose, that of coordinating the more primary tendencies and that
of mere play, whether as abstract reflection and system making
or perhaps working in the more picturesque material of concrete
images, instead of words, in obedience to the sentiment for the
beautiful. This play purpose of the reflective machinery may
altogether eclipse the primary purpose, but even here the ma-
chinery is run by instinctive demands.

We have sketched broadly three stages of mind with their
characteristic instincts and their characteristic mechanism for
making the instincts effective: First, the stage of physiological
or sensitive reaction, where consciousness is a mere spectator.
Here appear the egoistic preservative instincts. The mechan-
ism here is trial with gradual elimination and habit. Secondly,
the stage of associative memory, where an image or past result
can guide the reaction. Here appear the social instincts. This
stage is vastly superior to the preceding in its coordination, in
the complexity of its instincts and the economy of effort. Last
of all we sketched the stage of reflection or meaning with the
apparatus for survey, for selection, abstraction and substitution.
With this appear the ideal instincts or demands. We have

MIND AS INSTINCT. 135

seen too that each earlier stage as a result of natural selection
can be telescoped into a later stage of the group by the provi-
dential arrangement that all individuals are not of the same
age, but that the parents by the virtue of becoming parents
have developed a later set of instincts, sheltering the offspring
in their earlier stage and furnishing stimuli for the develop-
ment of the structural series. As the later instincts appear,
however, the earlier are telescoped into the later in the same in-
dividual and the later become the guides and the sheltering
foster-parents of the earlier. Even on the reflective level the in-
stinctive stages retain something of their integrity. We are not
always, indeed very seldom, reasoning. In that case the next
lower court presides. But even this may sleep or be disattached
from the lower centers, and then the lowest presides. Or, tak-
ing a cross section of the reflective stage, while attention selects
certain aspects as focal, in the marginal field we shade off into the
more primitive stages of consciousness through borderline asso-
ciations into dim awareness. And so the stages of race history
repeat themselves in their general outlines, not only in the stages
of individual history, but every day and, in fact, coexist in one
attention moment the whole distance from tropism to reflective
meaning.

The purpose of the mechanism of instinct, whether habit or
associative memory or abstraction, is to make instinct more defi-
nite. Instincts are at first universal. They are fitted to go off
at a certain kind of stimuli, on the lowest level a very vague
kind indeed, but more limited with each stage. There is a
good deal of difference between taste in general and taste for
music. Habit is at best a clumsy device for limiting the kind,
but memory makes possible reaction upon a particular, while
the reflective machinery makes possible descriptive definition.

The whole series of life can thus be expressed in instinctive
terms, both as regards content and mechanism — meaning by
instinctive reaction a response that is called off as a result of
organic structure, given the proper stimulus. We are such
mechanisms as to develop in a certain structural order and to
respond at certain stages in certain characteristic ways given a
certain range and order of stimuli. The failure to call forth a

136 JOHN E. B OODIN.

certain tendency in its dynamic order may fail to call forth
other tendencies, as some tendencies are dynamically condi-
tioned upon each other. Thus the failure to respond to sexual
love must mean the failure to call forth the paternal tendencies
and the failure to present the situations of danger and sacrifice
must also fail to call forth the heroic tendencies. It is here that
we are helped to some extent at least by the ideal situations of
poetry and art.

TENDENCY AND ENVIRONMENT.

It is clear now that the nature of the environment and with
it the survival value of tendencies varies at each stage of de-
velopment. In the early stages of evolution, survival is a mat-
ter of individual fitness based upon certain primary tendencies
and their gradual definition by means of habit. Then the
social tendencies emerge and survival value must be writ in
tendencies that supplement each other so as to make group life
possible. The primary instincts are thus telescoped into the
more complex secondary instincts with their mechanism of as-
sociative memory. Last come the ideal instincts, that appear
with the power of analysis and abstraction, and primary and
secondary instincts must be telescoped into these tertiary in-
stincts in order to meet the conditions of survival. With each
stage of evolution instincts become more numerous and com-
plex, and as the later individuals become part of the survival
conditions to be met, the survival conditions become more
complex.

But with greater complexity goes also greater freedom of
development. The transmitting of variations is not limited to
those immediately involved in survival ; and in the greater dif-
ferentiation of labor possible under an industrial regime, sur-
vival takes many directions. Thus a greater variety of tastes
makes possible a wider range of survival. There is room for
the musician and actor and sign-painter, as well as the me-
chanic. Then, too, the instinct of pity or sympathy shelters
the unfit, for the time being at least, thus complicating survival
conditions.

Survival conditions never change more rapidly than in a

MIND AS INSTINCT. 137

civilized environment. While in one generation an artistic
genius starves to death on his art, in another he can dictate his
own terms provided his style of art becomes a fad ; while in one
generation a man would be deemed insane for printing or mak-
ing furniture by hand, when factories can turn out as serviceable
goods by the millions, in another he can become wealthy and
famous besides ; while in one generation the stake, the cross
and the gibbet cut short the opportunity of the heretic from
propagating his doctrines and the species, in another he gets
the praise of men and the fat salaries, while the orthodox man
is doing the starving stunt. And so it goes, all because differ-
ent ages produce or at least stimulate different tendencies.

It is clear, then, that Spencer's idea of a finite static environ-
ment which would permit of absolute adjustment once and for
all, and a consequent relapse to the level of the primary instincts,
neglects the fundamental nature of the evolutionary process.
Environment is not merely the mechanical and stereotyped part
of nature, but first of all man, and in man the evolutionary
process so far from having stopped is going on only with more
rapidity as it becomes more complex. Our environment never
was more in the making than now and never furnished as large
or rapidly shifting a scale of selective values. If the old men
just now are in danger of being shelved, as is often complained,
it is not so much because they are old as that they grow stereo-
typed and cannot keep up with the rapid rearrangements. The
young old men, the geniuses of the race, were never more valued.

What the social environment does, then, as embodied in
human behavior and in the products of mind, is to furnish ever
new stimuli and more complex survival conditions. What the
individual must do to respond to the fullest extent is to meet the
new demands with the corresponding variations. Fortunately
it is not necessary to respond to more than a small number of
the physico-social characteristics in order to survive. Only an
absolute being could be equipped to respond to the universe
point for point. A man may reach the highest eminence of
social usefulness by the narrowness of his speciality, if for the
rest he conform to certain general survival tendencies such as
honesty and truthfulness (and I regret to say that does not always

138 JOHN E. BOODIN.

seem necessary at present). Thus he may rise to the highest
efficiency in the business world without responding to things
philosophical, artistic, or even religious. A genius is one who
is gifted with an unusual variation, either in the direction of
that which has no direct survival value but calls off the play
tendencies of man, such as art, or in the direction of greater
survival advantage, as in the case of the moral prophets or the
inventors of tools. Nothing is more obvious than the marked
difference in the range as well as quality of response in differ-
ent individuals. Some brains, as those of the idiot, are remark-
ably opaque, others, like those of the genius, show a wonderful
power of refracting light in brilliant and unusual ways, but each
mind reflects the light by virtue of its own constitution as mani-
fest in each stage of the series.

We get as much value and significance out of nature and
institutional life as we have corresponding tendencies. To the
man who lacks the play of aesthetic tendency and who is pre-
occupied with the primary and secondary instincts ' sunset and
evening star' are nothing, except perhaps a weather sign. In
the words of Coleridge,

' O Lady, we receive but what we give
And in our life alone does nature live.'

And so with the institutional equipment of the race. Our
religious tendencies determine our religion, not the opposite.
If we lack the feeling toward the supernatural and the sense of
dependence, religion is not for us. If we are lacking again in
aesthetic appreciation it is very natural that we should deem art
useless or worse and proceed to make bare the temples, or even
destroy them as some would-be reformers did. As the differ-
ence in creeds and the dread of hell disappear, religious de-
nominations will separate in their worship on the ground of the
real psychic preferences of individuals as regards the emphasis
of the ethical, the mystical, the aesthetic, or the philosophical
tendencies, always with the possibility of course that the more
primary tendencies of custom and loyalty may keep a man where
he does not psychologically belong. Institutions are created by
our tendencies and they are properly selective of us only as they
make tendencies go off in us.

MIND AS INSTINCT. 139

That is as true of the state and family as of religion. The
fundamental virtues which underlie social life, such as honesty,
truthfulness, and kindness cannot be produced in people. The
exciting of other tendencies, such as fear and gain may produce
counterfeit reactions for those mentioned above, inhibiting the
original tendencies. And some people live a respectable life
that way no doubt. But it is a great mistake to suppose that
because the child at one stage of its development reacts largely
on the basis of the primary instincts and shows no sense of truth,
or honesty, or kindness, or beauty, that, therefore, these ten-
dencies are produced at a later period. They are acquired no
more than love is acquired as the nervous system matures,
though an awkward regime of stimuli may indeed fail to set
them off. Our bias for landscape painting instead of character
sketches ; Ingersoll's fondness for the babble of the brook and
fear of Niagara ; our preference for the cathedral to the Quaker
meeting house, in so far as preference is active ; our enjoyment
of lyric sweetness rather than the searching of tragedy, — all
these preferences are conditions or presuppositions of our experi-
ence ; and while they may be violated or forced by the environ-
ment, cannot be produced by it.1

1 1 take pleasure in acknowledging my indebtedness to other workers in
this field, especially Principal C. Lloyd Morgan and Professor James Mark Bald-
win, who by their splendid works have directed me into this field of thought.

The MS. of this article was received July i, 1905. — Ed.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, XIII., 1906.

PLATE II.

N. S. VOL. XIII. No. 3. May, 1906.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

THE FECHNER NUMBER.

We are glad to devote this issue of the REVIEW to the
memory of Fechner, and count the REVIEW fortunate in having
so worthy a contribution to aesthetics with which to mark the
year. For it will be remembered that it is just forty years
since Fechner1 — in 1866 — laid down his principle of Associa-
tion. The time of year is also appropriate; his birthday is
in April. We fully concur also in the hope expressed by Pro-
fessor Martin — adding it as our opinion — that the striking case
of semi pseudo-chromaesthesia,2 reported in her article, and the
evidence that illusion plays such a part in the aesthetic judgment,
give greater content to Fechner's law of Association than has
been heretofore supposed. We are indebted to the Open Court
Publishing Co. for the privilege of using the portrait of Fechner
that serves as frontispiece of this number. — J. M. B.

1See Fechner, Vorschule der ^Esthetik, Part I., Vorwort, p. 5, also Part I.t
pp. 86-135.

2 Called ' semi pseudo-chromaesthesia ' appropriately by Miss Martin, i
think — expressing a personal opinion — since it is so largely associative in its
origin and also in some degree variable. It would be difficult, on the basis of
this case, to hold that the inherited and constant synaesthesias are due to asso-
ciation.

141

142 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

AN EXPERIMENTAL STUDY OF FECHNER'S PRIN-
CIPLES OF ESTHETICS.

BY PROFESSOR LILLIEN J. MARTIN,

Leland Stanford Junior University.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

NTRODUCTION. Enumeration of Fechner's aesthetic principles and a state-
ment of the aim of the study .' 143

\. Experimental study of the principle of the tzstheiic threshold . . . . 145

Series I. To ascertain whether lines are available as material in

making investigations in aesthetics 145

• Series II. To ascertain whether the length of the absolute aesthetic
threshold coincides with that of the sensation threshold in the
case of straight lines 157

Series III. To ascertain whether the apparent absolute aesthetic
threshold is affected by the direction of the line 162

Section IV. To ascertain whether the length of the apparent abso-
lute aesthetic threshold is affected by the width and color of the
line 165

Series V. To ascertain whether the absolute aesthetic threshold
coincides with the absolute sensation threshold in a series of
graduated circles 173

II. Experimental study of the principles of persistence, summation,

practice, etc 1 75

Series VI. To ascertain the aesthetic effect of repeatedly seeing a

picture 175

Series VII. To ascertain the aesthetic effect of looking at a picture
continuously I7«

III. Experimental study of 'the principle of 'association 189

Series VIII. To ascertain the aesthetic effect of semi-pseudochrom-
aesthesia 190

Series IX. To ascertain the aesthetic effect of illusions and halluci-
nations 196

Series X. To ascertain the effect of the title of the picture upon the
aesthetic judgment 203

IV. Data drawn from the preceding experiment which throw light on the

validity of other esthetic principles of Fechner's • ...... 204

V. Experimental study of the principle of esthetic contrast, of cesthetic

sequence and comparison 206

A. The simultaneous examination of pictures 208

Series XI. To ascertain the effect of simultaneous aesthetic contrast. 208

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 143

Series XII. To ascertain whether there is a summation aesthetic

effect in the simultaneous examination of pictures 212

Series XIII. To ascertain the aesthetic effect of the position of the

picture as regards the reagent's right and left 215

B. The successive examination of pictures — successive aesthetic con-
trast 215

VI. The principle of the expression of pleasure and displeasure 218

In the first part of his Vorschule der sEsthetik, Fechner has
laid down five principles of aesthetics — the principle of the
aesthetic threshold ; of aesthetic help or increase ; of the unified
combining of the manifold ; of noncontradictibility, of agreement
or truth; and of association. In the second part of this work
he has added seven subordinate aesthetic principles — that of
contrast, sequence and reconciliation ; of summation, practice,
blunting, habit or custom and of satiety ; of persistence, of
change, and of the amount of occupation; of the expression of
pleasure and displeasure ; of secondary pleasurable and dis-
pleasurable ideas ; of the aesthetic mean ; and of the economical
application of the means. This study was undertaken for the
purpose of testing the validity of certain statements made in
the principles themselves or in their discussion. Such an
investigation seemed desirable in that Fechner's illustrations,
especially those given in connection with the subordinate prin-
ciples, would lead one to suppose that the conclusions drawn
were based, partially at least, upon phenomena which are,
properly speaking, scarcely within the field of aesthetics. It
was thought, moreover, that in a study of this kind something
of value might be contributed regarding methods in experimental
aesthetics although, of course, any contribution made in the
present undeveloped state of this subject must necessarily pos-
sess a somewhat pioneer character.

It should perhaps be added that the writer does not * ap-
pend * ' at the close of this study any new principles of aesthet-

JSee review of Martin's Psychology of Esthetics, I., 'Experimental Pros-
pecting in the Field of the Comic ' published in the PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN
for September 15, 1905, in which the writer regrets that the author did not
'append ' a 'theory of the comic.' As a matter of fact the author did state
(see p. in) the theory of the comic that was ' most fully sustained by the
answers to the questionary and the results of the experiments,' although it was
intended merely as a statement summarizing the results obtained with one class

144 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

ics. In fact she has none to offer at this time, nor does she
feel that it will be possible for any one to lay down satisfactory
and complete aesthetic principles until a very much larger amount
of experimental data has been collected. She feels that orienta-
tion in regard to the facts is what is most needed in aesthetics at
present — valuable theories will be formulated only when we
have some undisputed data to explain. If the data obtained in
a given set of experiments from different reagents do not agree
it may possibly be because the words used in aesthetics cover
different constellations or groups of experiences in different
persons — in that case we should have of course no one theory
of aesthetics. On reading works on this subject most persons,
trained under the men belonging to the new school in psy-
chology, must feel that there has been an enormous amount of
unjustifiable theorizing in aesthetics and that there should be no
further making of theories until we have more exact data upon
which to base them. When one finds, for example, that the
mere placing of a picture in a different position actually reverses
our judgment of it, is it strange that some of us wish to know
something more regarding the determining factors involved in a
given aesthetic judgment before we draw widespread and very
probably inadequate, if not actually untrue, conclusions ? While,
then, very broad generalizations are not attempted in this paper,
the writer on testing a given principle, has drawn, at the close
of the experiments relating to it, such conclusions regarding it
as she believes to be warranted by the experimental data. This
work may be regarded in some sense as a laboratory contribution,
since it was undertaken and has been carried on by the aid of
the writer's students.

of comic material and of a comparatively limited number of experiments, made
by one person, and was not considered by any means as a final theory. In read-
ing this resume" of her work a story of Benjamin Franklin came to the author's
mind, which she does not consider an illustration of a ' f reisteigende Vorstellung. '
Franklin presented a paper before the Roy al Society on the subject of balloons,
which was commended for its completeness. To someone who asked the use
of the new invention, Franklin replied by asking, ' What is the use of a new-
born baby ? '

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL, REVIEW, XHI, 1906.

PLATE III, MARTIN.

12.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 145

I. EXPERIMENTAL STUDY OF THE PRINCIPLE OF THE
^ESTHETIC THRESHOLD.

" As one considers the outer or inner conditions of -pleasure
or displeasure one can speak of an outer or inner threshold which
must be surmounted if that which is pleasurable or displeasur-
able*entcrs consciousness possessing an actual pleasurable or dis-
pleasurable character."1 (Fechner, Vorschulc der ^Esthctik, I.,
49. References to this work will be indicated hereafter by V.
d. A.).

Series I. Object: To ascertain whether lines are available
as material in making investigations in cesthetics. — In view of
the fact that lines have been used in investigating the sensation
threshold it seemed desirable, if possible, to employ them in
finding whether the aesthetic threshold is coextensive with the
sensation threshold, and the first experiments were for the pur-
pose of learning whether they possessed the essential aesthetic
value. Material: The forty one lines of Plate III.

It will be observed that the above lines differ in (i) form —
straight lines, arcs of circles, ' waving lines ' (Hogarth's lines of
beauty), circles, and the ellipse being used. (2) As regards
direction, the straight lines are vertical, horizontal and oblique.
The oblique lines slant 45° from the horizontal, two (Nos. 6
and 14, called, to avoid circumlocution, the right obliques) to
the right and the other two (Nos. 5 and 13, the left obliques) to
the left. There are two sets of eight arcs each — the eight arcs
in the same set differing as regards position with respect to each
other, but in the two sets having corresponding positions. (3)
As regards length, the straight lines of one set (Nos. 1-8) have
a length of 12.6 cm. and of the other (Nos. 9-16) 7.6 cm. The
circle of which the eight arcs (Nos. 17-24) of 155° each form a
part, has a diameter of 12.6 cm. The eight arcs (Nos. 25-32)

JIn the discussion of this and several other principles there is neither itali-
cizing nor anything else in the context showing what is the formal statement
of the principle or what is in the nature of its amplification. Here and in other
similar cases I have selected one or more sentences which seem to me to express
adequately and succinctly Fechner's idea. For various reasons it has seemed
best to translate such statements into English. In a few cases the translations
have been somewhat free, and, in order to secure clearness, interpolations, fully
justified by what precedes or follows, have been made.

I46 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

are each 90° and the circle of which they form a part has a
diameter of 7.6 cm. The diameters of the three larger circles
(Nos. 33-35) are 12.6 cm. and of the smaller (Nos. 36-38) 7.6
cm. The long axis of the ellipse (No. 41) is 12.9 and the short
8.9. The * waving lines ' (Nos. 39 and 40) are 12.9 cm. in
vertical diameter and are reversed as regards position. (4) The
lines are not equal in width. Those marked N have a width
of .1 mm., those marked Afa width of .5 mm. and those marked
W a width of 1.5 mm. These lines were drawn with Higgin's
India ink by means of a ruling-pen on square sheets of white
Bristol-board 22.8 x 22.8 cm. As regards technique the lines
used were practically perfect, for those showing imperfections
or not meeting the requirements just given were discarded and
others substituted.

Method. — That of Constant Differences. To bring the
experimental study of aesthetics into line with other experi-
mental study in psychology, the name, constant difference, is
applied to the method in aesthetics which usually goes under the
name of the method of paired comparison and which is simply
the method of constant differences in which a large number of
norms has been introduced.1 In this series of experiments the
method of constant differences is used in a qualitative way as it
has been used in other aesthetic fields, although from the results
of this and the following series of experiments it would seem
that it can be applied in aesthetics also, to the making of quanti-
tative determinations, to finding, for example, by using appro-
priate material, the numerical value of the absolute and differ-
ence aesthetic thresholds. To eliminate unusable material, it
will be necessary, however, in quantitative work by the method
of constant differences, to make preliminary experiments by the
method of serial judgments.2 This will be seen at once, if one

1 Compare Miiller, Die Gesichtspunkte und die Tatsachen der psycho-phys-
ischen Methodik, n.

2 1 understand Professor Miiller (Die Gesichtspunkte und die Tatsachen der
psycho-physischen Methodik, 10 ff. ) to regard the methods of experimental
aesthetics also as falling under his three methods : the Konstanzmethode, the
Grenzmethode and the Herstellungsmethode. I confess I am at a loss to know
under which of these to put the method of serial judgments, which even in its
crude form as regards quantitative measurement (compare Kiilpe, Outlines of
Psychology, 233) seems to me to be needed in other fields as well as that of

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. H7

considers but a single judgment made in connection with the
method of constant differences. The reagent says one line is
liked better than the other when that other is liked, disliked,
or a matter of indifference to him. Even in qualitative experi-
ments of this kind such a supplementation is necessary if one is
to obtain a correct and adequate view of the reagent's feeling
for lines. In this work the serial method was employed but
once in the examination of the cards by a given reagent. That
is, each card was placed in turn before the reagent and he was
asked whether he liked the line (recorded in Table I. as +),
disliked it (recorded as — ), or was indifferent to it (recorded
as o). Where he did not know what judgment to give on a
given line a question mark (?) has been placed under the num-
ber corresponding to the line. It may be asked why the serial
method was not used alone. Until the matter is brought to their
attention through comparison many persons not only do not
know that they have any feeling for lines, but are inclined to
be skeptical when any one else expresses a liking for them.
Moreover, in using such a large number of lines, the number
of judgment terms would have had to have been too greatly
multiplied to have been satisfactorily applied, or the number of
experiments too much increased considering the preliminary
nature of this work.

In employing the method of constant differences each card
was used in turn as norm. It was always placed on the table
before which the reagent sat, at his right. For comparison the
other cards were placed on the table at the reagent's left, at the
side of the norm. For example, line one was used as norm
until all the other lines had been compared with it and the pref-
erence noted. It was then removed and line two substituted in
its place and all the remaining lines except one compared with
it. This was continued until each line has been compared with
all the other lines once. The procedure was then reversed in
cases of reagents W, B9 McG> ZJ, and C and the line which
had been used last as norm was now used first and the others
compared with it as before. The introspections of the reagents
and the results themselves show that the position of the lines

aesthetics. In fact, I have asked myself whether it should not be added to the
three methods just mentioned in order that they may be sufficiently inclusive as
regards psychological phenomena.

148 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

with respect to each other is a factor in the determination of the
judgment, and in experiments of even a qualitative kind it
would therefore of course, be desirable to entirely eliminate
this influence. In the order of procedure here used each card
is compared with the others both when at the right and when at
the left of them. It seems to me that this mode of procedure
compensates for space differences more effectually than does
that suggested by Titchener in Exp. XXL, of his Experimental
Psychology ', /, although the following words would lead one to
suppose that his mode of procedure actually eliminated such dif-
ferences. * Let /be on the right in exp. i and on the left in
exp. 2, etc., so as to avoid any possible error in the compari-
sons.' The compensation of space differences seems to me
one of the most difficult problems in experimental aesthetics.
For example, a card may in itself be preferred at the right, but
with another card it may be preferred at the right and with a
second at the left (see above). As to the manner of expressing
his preference, the reagent was directed, if one card was liked
better than the other, to tell which he preferred, where lines were
equally liked to say * equally liked ' ; or if he did not know which
he preferred, ' doubtful.' Reagents W, B, McG, D and C, were
also directed to give to protocol whenever a line was very much
preferred. The total number of preferences includes not only
the number of actual preferences, but also the number obtained
by adding one half a preference for each of the two lines con-
cerned where the judgment was ' equally liked ' or * doubtful.'
Custom has been followed in working up the results in this way.
A comparison of the results in Tables I. and II. in case of My
shows that this mode of computation has given a false picture
in at least one case. From Table II., it would seem that My
liked all the lines equally well, but a glance at Table I. shows
that he was indifferent to them all. This contradiction brings
up the question whether one is ever justified in working up the
results obtained through using the method of constant differ-
ences without previously ascertaining, by using the serial method
whether the above mode of computation was legitimate.

Reagents. — The persons who acted as reagents in these as
well as the other experiments were university students who had

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS.

149

been selected not only for their intellectual attainments but for
their reliable character, as it was felt that not only the abilitv to
introspect closely, but conscientiousness in the making of judg-
ments and in the giving of introspections to protocol was highly
important. Of the reagents who took the leading part in UK-M*
and other experiments, C is an advanced student in psychology
who has worked in the laboratory several years ; K, W, B,
McGj Z), and My had taken the beginners' laboratory course
in psychology ; H, M, Me, Km, F, P, R, S9 and M. W. had
heard lectures on the subject for a year, but had done no labor-
atory work. It is scarcely necessary to add that in this and all
other series the reagents were kept, as far as possible, in igno-
rance of the object of the experiments. They were in no case
told the results and they were instructed not only not to talk
over the experiments with other people, but as far as possible to
avoid thinking about them when not engaged in experimenting.
Results. — Those recorded in Tables I. and II. below. It
should be added, however, that these experiments have been
repeated as a class exercise and what is here found may be
regarded as typical.

TABLE I.

Re-
agents.

-M

M
W
Me
Km
B
McG
D
C
My

4-
+

4-
o

+
+

+
+
+
+
0

+
4-
+
+

4-
+
4-
+
0

4-
+
+

-f

4-
+

o
o

+
+

+
+
+
4-

0
0
0

+
+

-f

+
+

+
0

-f

+
4-
o

4-
4-

+
o

-f

4-
+

0
0

+
+

4-
+

0
0

+
+

4-
+

4-
4-

4-
o

+
o

+
+
0

+
O

+
o

0
0

4-
4-
+
o

4-
o

•f
•

Re-
agents.

M
W
Me
Km

4-
4-

+
4-
-f

-f

0
0

+
+

4-
+

+
4-

+
-f

4-
+

H-

?
+

+
4-

4
4
4

McG
D
C

0
0
0

-f
o

0
0

+
0

+
O

4-
4-

4-
o

?
?

150

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

TABLE II.

38.5

39-5

30.5

33-5

32.5

27-5

6.5

33-5

35-5

25.5

22.5

25-5

20.5

16.5

3-5

34-5

15-5

21.5

16.5

18.5

32.5

9-5

•5

1-5

8-5

7i.5

54-5

31-5

61.5

26.5

25-5

McG

53-5

46.5

58.5

48.5

41-5

57.5

44-5

38.5

35.5

66.5

49-5

30-5

49-5

52.5

63.5

12.5

25-5

56.5

57-5

58.5

4.5

14.5

18.5

20.5

21.5

13-5

22.5

26.5

19.5

22.5

34-5

23-5

22.5

6.5

14-5

4-5

27.5

25-5

12.5

15.5

70.5

3°-5

24-5

24.5

28.5

17-5

14.5

6-5

McG

27.5

20.5

25-5

I8.5

4.5

4-5

37-5

34-5

49-5

32.5

47-5 31

24-5

31-5

8.5

21-5

39-5

13.5

19.5

10.5

47-5

•2 '

i g

3°

819

II.5

35-5

4-5

3-5

820

5-5

76 5

1639

"•5

5-5

23.5

23-5

32.5

820

12.5

I6.5

12.5

36.5

39-5

36.5

39-5

31-5

33-5

820

21.5

12.5

1640

McG

7-5

13-5

5-5

70.5

76.5

77-5

68.5

1640

18.5

24.5

13.5

21.5

34.5

13.5

27-5

1640

40.5

38.5

3-5

24-5

•5

69.5

13-5

1640

820

i. Table I. shows that My was indifferent to all the lines,
that all the other reagents were indifferent to one or more of
them, and that all, except My, disliked some lines. This table
shows, moreover, that the assumption so often made in books on
aesthetics, that people like lines, especially curved lines, is not
entirely true. Even as careful an experimenter as Dr. Stratton l
seems to have made such an assumption in the case of curved
lines in that, in experimenting upon the relation of eye move-

1 ' Eye Movements and the Esthetics of Visual Forms,' Phil. Stud., XX.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS.

ments to the aesthetics of visual form, he does not report having
made a subjective examination of his reagents. If all hi
agents resembled My^ which of course is scarcely probable, his
experiments would throw little light, it seems to me, upon the
part played by the muscular movements of the eye in our enjoy-
ment lines.

2. Tables I. and II. show that the reagents do not agree
regarding the comparative pleasure giving power of lines as a
class, that is, in preferring straight lines, curved lines (arcs or
circles), waving lines, circles or the ellipse. The arcs of the
circles seem to be least liked, but no further general agreement
is noticeable. This is shown at a glance in Table Ha, in which
the various classes of lines have been arranged in order of
preference for each reagent — under I. the class relatively most
often preferred, under II. the next often preferred, etc. The
table was made by taking the whole number of judgments for
the lines of a particular class and dividing it by the number of
different lines of that class. For example, for reagent H the
whole number of preferences for the straight lines, the arcs of
circles, the circles, the waving lines and the ellipse were 408,
204, 131, 76 and o respectively. Each of the numbers divided
by the whole number of lines of its class, that is, by 16, 16, 6, 2
and i gives 24+, 12 -f, 21, 38 and o, which shows that for this
reagent the order of liking was that given in the table below in
which S stands for the straight lines, A for the arcs of circles,
C for the circles, Wior the waving lines, and E for the ellipse.

TABLE Ila.

Reagent.

II.

III.

IV.

McG

Table Ila. shows that it is only by selecting the results of
particular individuals that the following opinions can be sup-

152 LILL1EN J. MARTIN.

ported. Hogarth l speaks of the * waving line ' 2 as * the line of
beauty.' Spencer,3 Allen,4 Santayana,5 Witmer,6 Stratton,7
etc., think that there is a preference for curves as against
straight lines. Burke 8 says that * though the waved line is that
alone in which complete beauty is found, yet there is no par-
ticular line . . . which is beautiful in preference to all other
lines/ Mach 9 says ' we prefer straight lines to curved lines.'

3 . The aesthetic judgment of a straight line evidently depends
upon its length. This is seen by comparing the number of prefer-
ences under lines 1-8 with those under lines 9-16. J/9 M, Me,

W (except in case of the oblique lines), B, McG, C and Km
prefer the longer lines. The longer arcs absolutely and rela-
tively considered (compare number of preferences under Nos.
17-24 with those under Nos. 25-32 respectively) are also much
better liked. The same is true of the large circles except in
case of D, who prefers the smaller, and Km, where there is no
preference (compare results under Nos. 33-35 with those under
Nos. 36-38). From these results one could scarcely agree with
Burke that smallness enhances beauty, for here the opposite
seems to be the case.

4. ^Esthetically considered straight lines do not ' vary only
in length ' as Hogarth 10 says. They vary also in width and our
estimate of them is frequently dependent upon their width. H,

W, Me, B and McG prefer the broader, Km> D and C (except
in shorter lines) the medium, and J/the narrower straight lines.
The arcs used were all of the same width but three different
widths were employed for the larger and three for the smaller
circles. C prefers the narrower lines in circles but all the
reagents preferred the same widths as in case of the straight
lines, except McG in case of small circles.

1 Analysis of Beauty.

2Ivines 40 and 39 are enlarged copies of this line as it appears in a copy of
the Analysis of Beauty published in 1753 and 1838 respectively.
3 An Essay on Gracefulness.
* Physiological ^Esthetics.

5 The Sense of Beauty.

6 Analytical Psychology.

7 Eye-movements and the Esthetics of Visual Forms.

8 An Essay on the Sublime and the Beautiful.

9 Popular Scientific Lecture -, ' On Symmetry,' 98.
10 Analysis of Beauty, ch. VII.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. 153

5. The direction of the line is evidently of some importance
for the judgment. As regards horizontal and vertical lines, M%

W and C prefer the first, Me, B and McG the second, but //,
Km and D show little, if any, preference. A comparison of
the preferences as regards vertical and horizontal with oblique
lines as a class seems to show, as Mach says, that ' vertical and
horizontal straight lines ' are preferred to oblique. As regards
the right and left oblique W prefers the left, Me, McG, D and
C the right, but no conclusion can be drawn regarding the
preferences of the other reagents. These two lines have also
been shown to a large number of other right-handed persons
but there was no very marked preference shown for either line.

6. While the results show that the direction or position of a
curve is a matter of some individual, artistic interest it does not
show any agreement on the part of the individuals as a whole.
Such an agreement as one would expect if WitmerV statement
regarding the comparative pleasure giving power of a * gradual
curve upward to the right,' ' upward to the left,' etc., is true.

7. The results show that the direction in which * the waving
line ' is turned is not a matter of indifference, as one might
suppose from the fact that the line is reversed in some editions.
All the reagents except Me prefer line 40 to 39. W\s the only
one whose preference grew out of an association. She remarks
that No. 39 is * a meaningless curve ' but that No. 40 * is clearly
one side of a vase.' As a matter of curiosity, in this connection
I showed the reagents Fig. 45 in the Analysis of Beauty and
asked them to select the line best liked. They did not agree
with Hogarth or with each other regarding ' the precise line
properly to be called the line of beauty.'

8. Occasionally a reagent spoke of the pleasure a line gave
him because he felt himself drawing it. This led me to exam-
ine the results with a view to finding, if possible, the part played
by the imitative movements of the hand and arm in the aesthetic
impression. I reasoned that if such imitative movements oc-
curred they would be along the lines of least resistance. In
short, that lines easiest to draw would be most liked. My own
introspections, the fact that many persons whom I had asked to

1 Analytical Psychology, 85.

154 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

draw an oblique line drew the right oblique, and certain state-
ments made by McAllister,1 as that the slant in a * back hand '
writing requires movements that * are comparatively very hard
to make,' led me to believe that the left oblique would be harder
to draw and that, therefore, if the imitative movements just
referred to played a determinative role, the left oblique would
be less liked. This I do not find to be the fact when people are
asked to compare right and left oblique lines, nor do I find in
pen, pencil, crayon, etc., drawings that, when the lines used in
filling in do not follow the form of the objects, they always take
the direction of the right oblique, which we should expect if
Hogarth's idea, expressed as follows, is correct : ' The waving
line is still more ornamental and pleasing, insomuch that the
hand takes a lively movement in making it with pen and pencil.'
Thinking that possibly the introspective data was not reliable
and that the right oblique is not so much easier to draw, as I had
been led to suppose, I determined to try another line which is
almost universally drawn by right-handed persons in particular
direction, and that is the outline of a profile. I was assisted in
this work by one of my students, Miss F. King (If). She
asked one hundred different students to draw a profile. The
results agree with those given by Professor Minot.2 Eighty-
eight drew the profile facing towards the left. Of these, eight
were originally left-handed, but they had learned to use the
right hand and used it in making the drawing. While we may
grant here that the drawing of the profile facing left is easier
and more pleasurable, we cannot say also that any imitative
movements which occur in looking at such profiles play a role
in the aesthetic judgment, for by these very persons the profile
facing left is not universally better liked, although it is the one
in which we would suppose the imitative movements would be
most likely to occur. Fifty of those persons who drew a profile
facing west were shown a transparent slide on which the profile
could be faced right or left by reversing the slide. Of these
twenty-five preferred it facing left, fifteen right, and ten had no

1 ' Researches on Movements used in Writing, ' Studies from the Yale Psy-
chological Laboratory, VIII., 63.

2 Proceedings of the Amer. Society for Psychical Research, L, 306.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF .ESTHETICS. 155

choice. The absence of a very decided preference here would
make us explain the fact that the profiles are so often faced left
in the art of primitive peoples by supposing that on the part of
the observer imitative movements, of the kind referred to, playt-d
a larger part in the earlier times, or that ease of drawing gave
more pleasure to the artist than any other artistic factor. Modern
artists who, one would suppose, would be more alive to all the
details which would heighten both their own and others' artistic
enjoyment, do not seem to show the same preference for profiles
facing left as do artists among primitive peoples. Miss King
examined the first fifty -three volumes of the * Masters-in-Art
Series of Illustrated Monographs ' with a view to ascertaining
whether modern art favored the left profile. She divided the
pictures into four classes, — single portraits, pictures of the
Madonna and Child, other pictures having only two figures, and
pictures having many figures. She then counted the number of
figures facing right and left in each class. No preponderance
as regards facing figures right or left was found in any of the
classes mentioned, nor did a cursory examination of the portraits
in several volumes of the International Studio show any decided
preference. In volume XXII., for example, there are portraits
by more than thirty artists, but the number facing right and left
is approximately equal. A large number of photographs were
also examined, but among these no differences were observed.
The direction in which a single figure is faced is influenced, of
course, by various considerations, as the direction of the light
in the studio where painted, the side of the model's face which
is most characteristic or pleasing, the ease of presentation as
regards technique, and above all the aesthetic preferences of the
artist and of those for whom the picture is painted, etc. None
of these considerations seem to favor especially a profile facing
left. Altogether I do not believe that among us the ease of
movement involved in actually drawing aline or in imitating the
drawing of it plays any preponderating role in aesthetic appre-
ciation.

9. In this and the following experimental series the reagents
were instructed not to encourage the arising of associations in
connection with the lines, but, if any arose, to report them at

156 L ILL I EN J. MARTIN.

once. The results show that the aesthetic impression from the
lines was in general very direct and no reason for the judg-
ment was, or could be given. Occasionally a reagent remarks
that he likes or dislikes narrow lines because they seem ' grace-
ful ' or « delicate ' or ' weak ' or * look like a thread,' or in case
of broad lines, that * they have strength/ * character/ * look
clumsy,' etc. In case of individual lines the reagents some-
times give reasons for their judgments. For example, in Series
V., it was reported by several of the reagents that the eyes
moved round and round in looking at the larger circles where
some very large circles were used, and that this sensation was
disagreeable. One or two reagents said they did not like the
larger circles as well, because the lines were not as distinct, and
yet they were of the same diameter and had been made by using
the same ink. Again a reagent liked the smaller circles because
they seemed so much nearer. One formed his judgments
almost wholly on associations, and his results are not given.
It was now that a certain circle looked like a figure on a certain
piece of calico, again it was just the size and shape of a certain
picture, circles larger and smaller arousing still other associa-
tions. The vertical line of a certain length and width to M (see
Series IX.) looks like * a pussy-willow branch,' the distance
best liked on a certain horizontal width like * the level top of a
line of foothills,' and a right oblique line of a certain angle
and width like ' a road between pine trees.' Even the judg-
ments on short distances (the thresholds) to be discussed later
occasionally grew out of associations, as the words, when the
line was being gradually uncovered, * it seems to be pushing
itself forward,' or * it is not worth looking at,' etc., show.

10. Usually the lines were considered without respect to the
background or to the imagined lines, but this was not always
the case. C, for example, occasionally in connection with an
oblique line projected an imaginary horizontal line and found
herself giving judgment with respect to her feeling for the
inclosed space.

11. Occasionally the reagents reported that they liked or
disliked the combination (figures, etc.) formed by the two dif-
ferent lines, and that they were sure this had affected their

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 157

judgment on each. The effect on the individual judgments on
this summation influence, has not, it seems to me, been suffi-
ciently emphasized in discussing the comparative method.

12. The results obtained in this first series or experiments
have been considered in this detailed way with a view to ascer-
taining whether lines are capable, not only of arousing and
holding aesthetic feeling, as these results and the introspections
even of those who were most skeptical at the outset show, but
to ascertain whether the feelings were sufficiently differentiated
to make it possible to employ such material in studying particu-
lar points. From the very definite results obtained in these
experiments, the great differences in the degree of liking for
the different lines, and from the opinions of the reagents, sev-
eral of whom subsequently expressed themselves as surprised
at the definite feelings of like and dislike they had when look-
ing at the lines, and one of whom declared she had nearly as
strong a liking for her favorite lines as for her favorite pictures,
I feel confident that although the aesthetic impression arising from
lines is not as strong as from some other sources, they will,
except in case of very exceptional reagents, be found the most
satisfactory material in some aesthetic investigations.

Series II. Object: That the aesthetic threshold must be
reached before the aesthetic impression arises, is so self-evident
that it needs no experimental proof. The difference of opinion,
however, in regard to the relation between feeling and sensa-
tion makes it of some aesthetic interest to ascertain -whether the
length of the absolute (Esthetic threshold coincides with that of
the sensation threshold in the case of straight lines.

Material. — A horizontal, straight, black line 89 cm. long
and with a breadth of .8 mm. drawn on a sheet of Bristol-board
1.15 mm. x 32. 7 cm. Red, orange, green, and gray lines of
the same length and width, and a black line of like length but
3 mm. in width. A cover of the same material and having the
same dimensions as the paper upon which the lines were drawn.

Method. — The sheet upon which the narrower black line
was drawn was covered and laid on the table with the left end
directly in front of the reagent. The experimenter, seated on
the other side of the table, exposed 2 mm. of the line and

158 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

asked the reagent to give a judgment on it, employing one of
the following terms : very much liked [recorded in the table as
3 alone or with a plus (3 + ) or minus (3—) or even a double plus

(3+ -f) or minus (3 ) sign, if the reagent felt he must still use

this judgment category and yet wished to distinguish a given
judgment from some other] ; moderately liked [recorded as 2 -f,
etc.]; slightly liked [recorded as i, i+, etc.] ; do not know
whether liked or not [?] ; indifferent [o] ; slightly disliked
[recorded as — i, — i— , — i-f, etc.] ; moderately disliked
[recorded as — 2, etc.] ; very much disliked [recorded as —3,
etc.] After becoming acquainted with the material the rea-
gents were inclined, in the repeating of the experiments, to
employ not only the terms at first used, which were the lower
terms, but all the other terms as well. * Very much liked*
meant then not that the line was really very much liked when
it was compared with things in general that would evoke such
a judgment, but in respect to a similar line of a different length.
The reagents' attention was drawn to this change of judgment
and they were directed to exclude comparison as far as possi-
ble and to use terms expressing their feeling at the moment as
they had done at first. This was done to obtain additional in-
formation regarding the strength of the aesthetic feelings aroused
not only by differences in the length of the line but by the line
itself. When the judgment had been made on 2 mm. of the
line, the regeant was instructed to expose the remaining por-
tion of the line by gradually moving the cover to the right with
his right hand, keeping the exposed portion symmetrically be-
fore him, and reporting in the terms just given if he experienced
any change in liking. The reagent sat squarely before the
table, but no head rest was used, and he was allowed to turn
his head as he pleased. The object of allowing him to remove
the cover himself and to sit in a natural position in this and in
the following experiments was to avoid all constraint, as pre-
vious experiences in experimenting with comic pictures sug-
gested that it might decrease the aesthetic impression.1

Results. — In Table III. below, 2 indicates 2 mm., 2-4,

'Martin, Psychology of ^Esthetics, /., 'Experimental Prospecting in the
Field of the Comic,' Amer. Journ. Psychol., Vol. XVI., 50.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS.

TABLE III.

^59

Reagents.

2-4

5-10

11-80

81-160

161-930

0(100)

o(ioo)

1(20)

1(58)

2(41)

2(84)

3(io)

3(77)

2(23)

— 1(100)

-1(95)

-i-f(9o)

-1(80)
0(17)

I— (44)

1(48)

i(37)
Mat]

o(ioo)

0(95)

* (53)

1(48)

i+(3*)

1(50)

i(33)
i-f(i4)

i^!36)

0(50)

0(60)

0(35)

I-f(24)

i + (36)

2— (33)

-(40)

?(20)

1(54)

2— (32)

-1(20)

2-(o7)

1(32)

1(23^

-1(07)

0(06)

-1(80)
0(20)

-1(70)
0(10)

-1(65)
i(35)

-1(15)
i(43)

1(18)

I + (82)

i+(6^)9)

1(15)

i+(36)

1(3)

Reagents.

231-380

381-500

501-650

651-890
(End9).

End.

No.
Exp.

No. Exp.
Days.

3(100)

3(5i)
2(46)

2(33)
1(46)

0(54)

0(90)
-1(10)

0(12)

i(56)
H-(34)

i(39)

-1(23)°

-i(78)2)

— 1(100)

-K39)

I-H34)

i— (46)

i— (66)

! — (56)

0(60)

i(34)
i+-f (22)

i(33)
0(16)

0(30)

0(44)

I— (40)

I-(IO)

1(46)

— !(36)

-1(69)

-2(68)

-2(80)

2(10)

i— (30)

0(23)

-1(32)

-1(20)

i4~( 16)

0(20)

-l(l2)

i++(c8)

-1(50)

-I+-H83)

-I + -H20)

—3

1(20)

-i+(43)

-3(i3)

3(80)

-1(10)

5-10, etc., indicate the distance between 2 and 4 mm., 5 and
10 mm., etc. Under each of these distances is found the per
cent, of each kind of judgment given in connection with the
exposure of this length. In the cases where the total number
of judgments do not reach 100 per cent, they were scattered

i6o

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

and are omitted to economize space. The number of trials and
the number of days over which they were distributed are given
for each reagent. The number of experiments were purposely
limited in these and other experimental series in order to exclude
any regularity that might arise from memory, etc.

In using the red, orange, etc., lines the lengths 2, 4, 10,
45, 120, 190, 305, 440, 575, and 750 mm. were shown to the
reagent and he gave a judgment. The judgments which were
taken but once on these lines are found in Table Ilia, below.
It will be noticed perhaps that results are reported from four
reagents only. The experiments have been repeated with many
others and those given may be regarded as typical not only in
connection with this but the following series in which lines were
used.

TABLE Ilia.

Re-
agents.

I,ines.

120

190

306

440

575

75°

red

— I

— 2

-2 +

— 2 +

—3

orange

— I

— 2

—2+

—3

green
gray

o
o tc

-1 +

> end b

—2

ut indi

ferencc

—3
j less a

. 3
3 line le

—3+
ngthene

dT3+

— T

black

0 — 2

2 —

red

— I

i —

— I —

orange

— i

— 1 +

-i+

— 1 4-

-i+

— I

— 1 +

— 1+

-1+

green

— I

i —

I —

— I

— i

— I

gray

— 2

—3

I —

— I

black

-1 +

— I

— i

— I —

— I

red

— I

— 1

— I

-1 +

— 2

—3

orange

— I —

— I

— 1 +

— I

— 2

—3

— 3+

green

I —

— I —

— i

gray

I —

— i

black

— I

— I —

— i —

red

— I

-1 +

-I + +

— 2

' — 2

orange

— I

-1 +

—1 +

— 1++

— 2

green

1 +

I-f

I + +

— I

fray

— I

— 1 +

— 1 + +

— 2

—3

lack

— 1+

— I

1 +

I + +

i-f-f-

In examining these tables one is reminded of Dessoir's l words
' Die Objeckte konnen bekanntlich so gross . . . sein, oder
auch in ihrer quantitat so geringfiigig sein, dass ein assthetischen

1Dessoir, 'Die sesthetische Bedeutung des absoluten Quantums,' Zeit. fur
Psych, u. Phys. der Sinnesorgane, Bd. 32, 60.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. l6l

Genuss nicht eintritt.' One sees at a glance that the degree with
which we like, resp. dislike, a line depends upon its length.
There is a length which is most liked, resp. disliked. After
this length has been reached in the case of a liked line the liking
decreases and finally becomes zero and in some cases the feel-
ing is transformed to dislike. In the case of a disliked line the
feeling increases to a certain length. After this length is reached
it may increase, remain constant, or decrease and become zero.
The reagents had not been instructed to look at the line as a
whole but the change of feeling after the line has reached the
length on which the highest judgment was given was often due
doubtless to the fact that the line was better liked when it could
be seen as a whole. This was shown by the fact that they all
tended to bend the head back as the line lengthened, remarking
that they would like the longer lengths if they were not so near
and complaining that it tired them to move the head from side
to side. To prove experimentally that a line is better liked
when seen as a whole is difficult, from the fact that in chang-
ing its position a new set of determinative factors enters. For
example, if a reagent likes a broad line, he likes it less when
farther away, for it appears narrower to him. Moreover, in-
creased length itself is a factor to be considered. The intro-
spections of //show that the zero judgments occasionally found
on the line when longest do not grow out of adjustments of the
eye but are due to a certain monotony which becomes very
noticeable as the line grows longer.

It is evident from the results of Tables III. and Ilia, that we
have material which it would seem might be employed in in-
vestigating the aesthetic difference threshold by any one of the
psychological methods. If we examine the judgments on the
shorter lengths of line exposed, we see also that there is a
length to which the reagent is indifferent or if he likes, resp.
dislikes, the line which he dislikes, resp. likes. This length is
longer in general than that required for the recognition of the
line, that is to say, longer than the absolute sensation threshold.
The introspections of the reagent throw no very satisfactory light
as to why the impression from the short lengths should be dif-
ferent from that from the longer ones and the next experiments

162

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

were made with a view to getting some further light on this point ;
that is, to learn whether these short lengths ought to be con-
sidered aesthetic absolute thresholds. To avoid circumlocution
these short lengths will be designated for the present as appar-
ent aesthetic thresholds.

Series III. Object : To ascertain whether the apparent ab-
solute (esthetic threshold is affected by the direction of the line.
A line 12.7 cm. long and .6 mm. wide was drawn upon the
center of a circular sheet of drawing paper having a diameter
of 67.0 cm. On the back of this sheet was a scale graduated
in a hundred degrees. The sheet was placed on an easel in
front of which sat the reagent in a comfortable position for see-
ing the line, whose center was placed on a level with the eyes.
Behind the circular disk sat the experimenter and through a
thread stretched on the paper across a diameter of the circular
sheet it was possible to place the line in the eight positions used.
The sketch below will show the position of the line. The num-
ber in connection with each line corresponds to the angles given
in Table IV.

The line was placed in one of the positions and then shown
to the reagent, whose eyes had been closed for rest during the

placing of the line, and after
he had given his judgment
upon it (the judgment cate-
gories were the same as those
used in Series II.), it was
entirely covered by him with a
piece of paper (held generally
in the right hand, though for
reasons previously given no in-
structions had been given), the
edge of which was placed ver-
tical to the line used. The
upper end of the line was then gradually uncovered until a
length was reached which the reagent liked. This distance
could be seen through the paper by the experimenter and its
length was measured in mm. and is so expressed in the table.
Any introspections of the reagents given in connection with this

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 163

judgment were, of course, recorded. The line was then placed
in turn in the seven other positions given and the judgment and
the corresponding distances recorded. In the next round, the
judgment was taken on the whole line in each case as before
but the movement was reversed, the lines being gradually
covered by the reagent until the required length had been
reached. M and W were occasionally indifferent to the line
in a certain position and they were told to give a length, if
there was such a length, which they liked, and this length was
then recorded. W occasionally disliked a line and at such
times she was told to give a length, if there was such a length,
which she liked.

Results. — In table IV. below, under I in case of each line
for each reagent, are given the number of judgments of a given
kind, and under II. the average length of the aesthetic threshold
expressed in mm. and its mean variation. Under o° (H) and
25° (V) are given the results obtained when the line was hori-
zontal, respectively vertical, under 6j^, 12 J^, 18^ those^ ob-
tained with left obliques, and under 31^ , 37^ and 43^ with
right obliques. It will be observed that when the line is at 6%°
and 43 J^° it is more nearly horizontal, and at 18^° and 31^°
more nearly vertical.

As regards the judgments it is evident — (i) that the hori-
zontal is best liked except in case of //"who likes the vertical
equally well. The horizontal is liked for its symmetrical posi-
tion doubtless. Associations in connection with the body occa-
sionally arise in connection with the lines. Muscular sensations
are frequently present with H. She feels herself weighed down
occasionally, for example, by the horizontal line. The want of
stability of the vertical is an important factor with C. She said
she would like it if it had a support. (2) M and W prefer the
left obliques and H, C and K the right. K says she feels
herself drawing these lines. The oblique lines most nearly
horizontal are best liked and those most nearly vertical least,
the reagents feeling that the last * ought to be straightened up '
or * were intended to be vertical.' (3) Except in the case of the
vertical and horizontal lines in case of reagents //, K and W9
where the illusion of over-estimation of vertical as compared

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FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF .ESTHETICS.

,65

with horizontal distances plays a role perhaps, the average
apparent aesthetic threshold of the lines best liked seems to be
shorter. Although the number of judgments is small, the same
thing is shown when the average length of the apparent thres-
hold given for each judgment category in case of a single line
is examined. When all the judgments have been taken and
the threshold has been computed for each judgment category,
as has been done in Table IVa., the fact that the shorter apparent
aesthetic threshold occurs in connection with the higher positive
judgment (judgment where the line is liked) as regards the line,
and conversely, is demonstrated.

TABLE IVa.

i» Is

3—

2 +

2 —

•+ +

I+

— i

— 1+

— i-H-

H
M

16.5

63°<?)

39
61.2

42.5
67.4

69.3

14-7

154

17.0

18.4

16.2

15-5

16.2

17.0

19.1

21.0

23.1

25.2

33-2

25.5

22.8

23.5

Subsequent experiments, however, would seem to show that
the length of the apparent aesthetic threshold here is not de-
pendent upon the kind of the judgment given upon the whole
line but upon the fact that a shorter length happens to be more
agreeable in itself when in a certain position than a longer
length, and this position happens to be that in which the line as
a whole is best liked. The lengths liked which were given for
the apparent aesthetic threshold in connection with the negative
judgments (judgments where line was disliked) show no particu-
lar trend in the case of the reagent ( W) who gave such a length.

Series IV. — To ascertain whether the length oj the ap-
parent cBsthetic threshold is affected by the width and color of
the line.

Material. — Sixteen horizontal lines drawn with colored
inks on separate sheets of cardboard 25.4 x 20.3 cm. Uniform
backgrounds were used so that if differences occurred they
could not be attributed to the fact that these differed in form,
color, size or texture. Each of the lines was 203 mm. in length.

1 66 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

Five of them (given in Table V. as Nos. i, 2, 3, 4 and 5) were
black with the widths .5, i, 1.5, 2 and 3 mm. respectively. As
broader lines of the same color appear darker, an effort was
made to make these black lines and the gray lines (Nos. 8, 9,
10 and n) subjectively of the same brightness by mixing white
and black inks in different proportions in making the lines of
different widths. The attempt was completely successful with
some reagents but not with others. Of the six gray lines No. 6
was made very light in color. No. 7 was made darker in shade
than 6 but not as dark as Nos. 8, 9, 10 and n. The widths of
the gray lines Nos. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 and n were .2, .5, i, 1.5, 2
and 2.8 mm. respectively. Nos. 12, 13, 14, 15 and 16 were
.5 mm. in width and red, green, violet, orange and brown in
color respectively. Before taking up the above sixteen lines,
in which much greater variety occurs as regards width and
color, experiments had been previously made with five black
lines 127 mm. in length and .1, .3, .5, .7 and i, in width,
which were drawn on cards of the same material and size as
those above. The results obtained for C in these experiments
have been placed under Nos. i, 2, 3, 4 and 5. The results ob-
tained in using the first five lines are recorded for C because no
usable results were obtained from her in using the sixteen lines
from the fact that, as she became more acquainted with lines,
she found herself unable to give a satisfactory judgment, in that
the color and width gave rise to two distinct judgments, some-
thing which in no case was reported by the other reagents.

Method. — On beginning the experiment with the five lines
just mentioned, both to acquaint the reagent with the material
and to encourage him carefully to observe differences, these
lines were laid in pairs in turn before him until each of them
had been compared with all the others at least once and he had
reported which he liked the better. After these preliminary
experiments, in case of the set of five lines and of the sixteen
lines, a line selected by chance from the others was laid directly
in front of the reagent, his eyes during the placing of the card
having been closed or turned away for rest, and when the * ready '
signal was given he looked at the line and gave his judgment
upon it in the terms given in the previous series. The judgment

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 167

having been recorded, the line was entirely covered and then
gradually uncovered. If the line had been reported * liked ' in
the judgment just made, the reagent was instructed to report as
soon as he began to like it ; if it had been reported * disliked,'
he was to say as soon as it was disliked. If he was * indifferent '
to it, he was to report if he liked, resp. disliked, any length of
the line. This distance was noted and the procedure repeated
with each of the remaining lines. In the next round of experi-
ments the same thing was done except that in alternate rounds
the line was entirely covered, resp. entirely uncovered, and
gradually uncovered, resp. covered, until the threshold was
found. In Table V. below under i I, 2 I, 3 I, etc., are given
the number of times each class of judgments occurred on a given
line in case of the sixteen lines, and under i II, 2 II, etc., the
average length in mm. of the corresponding apparent threshold
and its mean variation. As the results, in case of the ten
experiments upon each of the five lines first used, agreed with
those obtained by using the sixteen lines they are omitted to
economize space. It should be said that the reagents report
that the lengths given for the apparent threshold are accom-
panied by very definite feelings. W9 for example, says that
she feels as certain of the length as if there were * a dot at the
point' and the other reagents use equally definite expressions
as regards certainty of judgment.

The results show (i) that the liking for the line depends upon
its color. This is seen by comparing the judgments for the
various reagents on the lines i, 7 and 12-16, which agree in
width but differ in color. (2) The liking also depends upon the
width. A comparison of the judgments on the set of black lines
and of gray lines shows that Yfcf and TTlike the narrowest lines,
and H and PFthat next to broadest, and C the line of medium
width. (3) An examination of the results in case of lines of like
width but differing in color show everywhere that the length of
the apparent aesthetic threshold is not a function of the degree
of liking for the whole line, for lines equally liked have dif-
ferent apparent thresholds and those not liked in the same de-
gree have the same thresholds. In lines of like width the color
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17° LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

threshold except in case of W where it does not seem to play
any great role. In general, orange, red, and green lines, that
is, the brighter lines, give the shorter apparent threshold.
Except, perhaps, in case of K — who gives extremely short
thresholds on the colored lines and on one occasion spoke, in
shortening the line, of the red, which she did not like, as hav-
ing faded to a light pink which she liked, and remarked that
the threshold for the violet line was * where it ceased to look
blue ' — the apparent aesthetic threshold is longer than is required
for the recognition of the color, that is, the apparent aesthetic
threshold is not coextensive with the sensation threshold but is
longer than it. (4) ^fgave on several occasions two thresholds.
The shorter was one given in uncovering the line and was
doubtless the color threshold; the longer one was given in
covering the line in finding the threshold and was doubtless
determined by the feeling for the rectangular form. If we ex-
amine the judgments given on lines differing only in width we
do not find that the length of the apparent threshold is a func-
tion of the degree with which the line is liked but of the width
of the line. In case of C, Wand H, the length of the appar-
ent threshold does not vary with changes in liking but with
changes in width. K's and M's results as regards the appar-
ent threshold seem to show some connection between the degree
of liking and the length of the apparent threshold, but they can
be as well explained as can those of W, C and H by supposing
that the width of the line determines the length of the apparent
threshold, and thus a common explanation can be given for the
variations found in its length in case of lines of like color but
differing in width. As regards the effect of the width on the
apparent threshold, we may say in case of K, W, C and J/that
where a line is liked its length increases with the width of the
line. That is, it takes a longer length to give a pleasing rect-
angle in case of wider lines. On the other hand, in case of H
the apparent threshold shortens as the lines increases in width,
doubtless because the reagent likes the approach to a square
form better as the line increases in width. She remarked
several times, on getting the apparent threshold for line No. 4,
4 the square is too small to be liked.' In experimenting with

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. ill

lines wider than those here used this comes out clearly. In
lines wider than a certain width of line the square is invariably
given for the apparent threshold. This makes the threshold,
in case of this reagent, as the line increases in width seem to
grow shorter and then longer. It is probable, from the results
of Mj which are the only results we have to base our opinion
upon, that, where the lines are of the same color but differ in
width, the distances given for the apparent threshold do depend
upon whether the lines are liked or disliked. In case of dis-
liked lines the thresholds are very much shorter and the wider
the line the shorter the apparent threshold — just the reverse
of what was found in the case of this reagent when the lines

were liked.

TABLE Va.

, *:

•2

»3

3-2

18.8

15.8

"•3

23-7

22.2

194

19.2

I9.I

20.4

19-5

19.7

20.9

Table Va. above shows that there is in her case, a disliked
length on each of the sixteen lines which is less as regards
length than that given for the thresholds in case of the liked
lines. When the reagent has looked at a line and found she
disliked it she selects the shortest length that she dislikes in case
of this line ; how long it will be depends upon the width of the
line (compare threshold lengths on lines 4 and 5 given in table
V. with the disliked lengths given in Table Va.) and gives it for
the threshold. In case of liked lines, she selects the shortest
length that she likes. Its length here also will depend upon the
width of the line, but in general it is longer than the length
selected for the threshold of a disliked line. The following
introspection, given to protocol, confirms this opinion — " There
is, in case of liked lines, a short indifferent space, then a dis-
liked space, then an indifferent space, and from there on the
line is liked. With disliked lines there is an indifferent space
and from there on the line is disliked." (5) The length of the
threshold sometimes grows out of personal idiosyncrasies. Af,
for example, has an illusion when line 6 is shown. She always

172. LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

sees a woman in gray, superimposed upon this line and puts the
threshold where her chin is uncovered or covered by the cover,
as she is indifferent until this point is reached. Experiments
similar to those outlined have been made with many other per-
sons with such similar results that those given above may be
regarded as typical. It is evident, from what has been said,
that if a line is a liked line the reagent looks for the shortest
length, the shape or form of which he likes, and gives it as the
point where he begins to like the line — as the aesthetic thresh-
old, in short. With a disliked line he does the opposite. In
case he is indifferent to the line as a whole and is thus left free
to seek for a liked or disliked length, he selects the length which
comes first or which gives the stronger impression. We would
expect from this both a threshold of like and of dislike on every
line, and in case of M we actually find these. In fact the
change of form and color which occurs in lengthening the line
determines the length of the apparent threshold. Introspections
show, except in case of W, who likes or dislikes the line from
the very first, that a line must have a certain length before the
reagent has any feeling for it. The use of the magnifying and
reducing glass in connection with the lines confirmed these
opinions.

It is evident from the above results that straight lines are not
suitable material for finding whether ' Ein quantum als solches
fur das Eintreten des aesthetischens Genusses erforderlich ist,' *
as changes in their length produce not only changes in quantity
but also in quality and the reagents' changes of judgment have
been seen to be largely due to the latter. Whatever visual stim-
ulus is selected it must be of such a character that variations in
quantity are not accompanied by variations in quality. A series
of graduated circles would seem to be the material needed and
they were used in the next experiments. A surface is evidently
needed which can be varied in size without any change in form
having also been made. It would seem that by employing a
set of graduated circles one could get the desired knowledge,
and these were used in the next series.

1Dessoir, 'Die sesthetische Bedeutung des absoluten Quantums,' Zeit.
fur Psych, u. Phys. d. Sinnesorgane, Bd. 32, 51.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS.

Series V. — To ascertain whether the absolute asthetic
threshold coincides with the absolute sensation threshold in a
series of graduated circles.

Material. --Twenty-six circles i, 2, 3, etc., having diame-
ters of i, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 12, 16, 24, 36, 40, 50, 60, 80, 100,
125, 175, 225, 275, 310, 350, 400, 450 and 500 mm. respec-
tively, were drawn on sheets of Bristol board. The surface on
which the 18 smallest were drawn was 15.2 x 20.2 cm., the next
three 35. 4 x 43.1 cm., and the last five 56.8 x 67.8 cm. The
size of the background was varied to avoid the feeling of dislike
which preliminary trials had shown to grow out of the fact that
it was out of proportion to what was upon it. The lines of the
circles were .3 mm. in width. The cards were put on an easel
before which the reagent sat, and were then exposed in turn.
Under i, 2, 3, etc., in Table VI. are given the judgments of
the reagent for one exposure.

TABLE VI.

Reagents.

I —

I-

I —

1 +

I-

1 +

I-

2 —

2—

2 —

— I

—I

—

(

1 +

I-f-

i++

[

I-J-

I-

i+H

i+4

I_j__j_

[

1 +

i-j_

Reagents.

I-j-

]

i+-

+ +

-I —

— i —

I-

1 +

]

I —

i —

—

j_i_

I—

— i

1 +

2 +

+ +

1 +

I + -

1 +

—I

It will be seen from the table that these reagents, and the
same is true of many others with whom similar experiments
have been made, are indifferent to the smallest circles. Up to
a certain size the liking for the circles increases with their size
and beyond this size the liking decreases, the largest circles
being much less liked than the moderate sized ones and in some
cases actually disliked. In describing the curve representing

174 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

the course of feeling in the change of sensation strength,
Wund^says: "So beginnt die Gefiihlscurve bei der Reiz-
schwelle a mit unendlich kleinen Lustgrossen und steigt dann zu
einen Maximum an, welches bei einer massigen Empfindungs-
starke c erricht wird. Von da sinkt sie allmalich wieder und
kommt bei e zum Nullpunkt, worauf mit weiterer zunahme der
Reize der Uebergang auf die negative Seite allmahlich wach-
sende Unlustgrossen andeutet." Kiilpe2 says, 'the ordinary
course of the affective reaction, as depicted in the psychologies,
is as follows : — a very weak, but sensible, stimulus has no notice-
able effect upon feeling ; as its intensity increases, the limen of
pleasantness is reached and passed, and maximal pleasure at-
tained ; from this point the intensity of feeling decreases up to
a stage of indifference ; and this in turn gives way to a liminal
unpleasantness, increasing by degrees to maximal unpleasant-
ness.' The two authorities just quoted evidently consider the
absolute aesthetic threshold higher than the sensation, and the
above results would seem to confirm this view. With a method
which is finer as regards the detection of slight differences of
feeling — a method in which a direct comparison of feeling is
possible — the difference between the sensation and feeling
threshold is not so apparent. This was learned from giving the
above reagents two circles, chosen at various points between the
sensation and apparent aesthetic thresholds, to compare. All
the reagents except K liked the larger circle when the com-
parison of any two such circles was made. That is to say, of
two circles to which the reagent had previously said he was in-
different, one was better liked than the other. In other words,
where the comparative method was employed the sensation and
aesthetic threshold were approximately, if not quite, coincident,
It is evident from this that the length of the threshold depends,
at least in case of some reagents, upon the method used. For
my own part, however, the aesthetic impression does not seem
to have the customary glow until I have passed the absolute aes-
thetic threshold obtained by the serial method, although if two
small circles, to which I have said I was indifferent, are given

1 Grundziige der physiologische Physiologic, 5 Aufl., Bd. II., 312.

2 Outlines of Psychology, 249.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF .ESTHETICS. 175

me to compare, I prefer the larger, but it seems to be a purely in-
tellectual judgment, and my experience is that of many other
reagents. The use of a comparative method in studying the
aesthetic threshold shows that, in speaking of the feeling curve
beginning with * unendlich kleinen Intergrossen,' Wundt prob-
ably expresses the facts better than do those psychologists who
say that * a very weak but sensible stimulus has no effect upon
feeling.'

II. — EXPERIMENTAL STUDY OF THE PRINCIPLES OF

PERSISTENCE, SUMMATION, PRACTICE, ETC.

(V. d. A., II., 240-254.)

Series VI. — To ascertain the (esthetic effect of repeatedly
seeing a -picture.

Material. — 100 pictures taken from the Masters-in-Art
Series of Illustrated Monographs, and mounted on pieces of
cardboard 32.8 x 25.4 cm. of a light cream tint.

Judgment Terms. — Preliminary tests were made with dif-
ferent pictures and reagents in which the terms beautiful resp.
ugly, pleasing resp. displeasing, agreeable resp. disagreeable,
and liked resp. disliked were employed in giving the judgments,
with a view to the selection of the most generally applicable and
satisfactory judgment terms for the reagents to employ in ex-
pressing their feelings regarding the works of art used. When
the terms were given the reagents were also asked to give any
other terms they found more satisfactory in any special case.
The tests showed that the above terms are in no respect syn-
onyms as regards these reagents. For example, pleasing was
declared to be too insignificant a word to be applied to certain
pictures liked, and certain pictures declared beautiful were not
liked or did not * arouse any emotional response/ as one reagent
says, and vice versa. Individual theories of art seemed to be
embodied more in the term beautiful than in the other terms.
The terms liked, disliked, etc., given on p. 26, were finally
selected because they were the only terms that were found ap-
plicable by all the reagents to all the pictures. In testing
aesthetic principles from results obtained through using such
terms, it is, of course, assumed that liking and disliking are

176 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

crucial or determinate in deciding on the aesthetic value of an
impression.1

Method. — The reagent was seated at a table, the fifty
pictures were laid before her and were uncovered in turn, and
remained exposed until the judgment was given. The time
taken for the judgment was noted on a stop watch, the intro-
spections recorded, and the next picture was then shown. This
was repeated for five days and results are given in Table VII.
under I.-V. for each of the five reagents. On the sixth and
following days (an hour was given each day to a sitting) each
of these pictures was exposed to the reagents for five minutes
and they were asked to observe and report (using the terms
above given) the course of the aesthetic impression during that
period. Under Via. and VIb. is given the report at the begin-
ning, resp. at the end, of the five minute exposures. Under
VII., VIII. and IX. are given reports (taken as were those made
on the first five days) for one day, approximately for one month,
and for three months later respectively. Except in case of F
the experiments were then repeated, fifty new pictures being
used. The reports are given for each judgment category in
per cents, in Table VII. for the five reagents. To economize
space the results in the two sets have not been separated since
they show the same trend.

Results — Practice. — Comparison of the results in Table
VII. for the first (under I.) and second (under II.) exposures,
shows a marked change on the part of all the reagents in the
distribution of the judgments. This was due doubtless to the
nicer distinctions which were possible when all the material to
be judged had once been examined. If the results of the second
exposure (II.) are compared with those of the fifth (V.) it will
be seen that the pictures as a whole are better liked by M and
Afa, thus confirming Fechner's statements that ' without previous
practice many fine and high aesthetic impressions escape one '
and that ' there are cases where a more frequent repetition of the
stimulus is needed in order to bring the (aesthetic) impression to

1 Compare Kiilpe's discussion in his Review of Groos, Der asthetische
Genuss, published in Gottingische gelehrte Anzeigen, 164 Jahrgang, No. XI.,

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. I 7 7

1 7 8 LILL IEN J. MA R TIN.

full strength' ( V. d. A., II. 241). The other reagents, with
the possible exception of K, had approximately the same feeling
regarding the pictures on both days. The results of the sixth
exposure (VIb.) show that this was not due to the fact that the
aesthetic stimuli had produced their full effect. It was doubtless
because the stimuli had not been sufficiently examined and the
following experiments were subsequently made to test the matter.
Summation. — An examination of the results in Table VII.
under Via., where the judgments were given as on the previous
five days, with those in VIb., where the judgments were given
after the picture had been exposed for five minutes, except in
case of F, fully confirm Fechner's opinion that ' there are cases
where a longer continuation of the stimulus is necessary in order
to bring the impression to full strength ... it is especially
the finer and higher impressions which neither when first met
nor in the first moment of their activity effect us most strongly '
( V. d. A., II., 241). This is particularly striking if one com-
pares in the two cases the plus (-f)-judgments which are en-
closed in a parenthesis after the number of judgments of a given
class (the minus (— )-judgments occurred so rarely that they were
not segregated.) A comparison of the judgments of the fifth
exposure (V.) with those of the sixth (Via.), before the five-minute
exposure, show that the pictures as a whole were less liked by
all the reagents except F in the second case. The reagents
knew the pictures were to be exposed five minutes and as they
had all previously given to protocol that the impression changed
from moment to moment one can readily suppose that in this case
they gave, as far as possible, their very first impression which
one would have expected, in the light of what was afterwards
shown, to be lower. It should be said here perhaps that the
general uniformity of F's results may be explained by the fact
that she is not naturally introspective and since she has had no
training along this line the finer shades of difference in feeling
escaped her notice. The much larger number of high judgments
Miked' recorded in VII. as compared with the number in V.,
where the judgment time is approximately the same, shows that
the effect of the long exposure recorded in VIb. was transferred
to VII. where the time exposure was not one fiftieth as great, in

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 179

fact, that ' if the activity of the stimulus is interrupted during
the period of ascension, that is, before reaching the full strength
of the impression, and later begun anew, an after affect is trans-
ferred over therefrom to the second effect and thereby shortens
the period of increase in case the two effects are not too far apart
or the after effect of the first effect not destroyed through inter-
vening effects ' ( V. d. A., II., 240). The above is shown below
also in Table VIII. where the total judgment time expressed in
seconds for the second exposure is compared with that of the
fifth on the first fifty pictures, for the reagents //, ^/and K,
where the judgments are only very slightly different on the fifth
exposure.

TABLE VIII.

Total Judgment Time for

J.H.

E. M.

F K

Second exposure

ICC

245,

22Q

Fifth exoosure...

IQ1

211

The results of the three exposures (VII., VIII., IX.) after
the long exposure, when compared with those before, seem to
point to the best method of increasing artistic appreciation.

Series VII. — To ascertain the cesthetic effect of looking at
a ptcttire continuously. After the experiments recorded under
VII., Table VII., were completed, seven pictures of the set
were selected and each of these (one picture daily) was exposed
to three of the reagents //", M" and ./ffor forty-five minutes to
observe and report on the course of the aesthetic impression. I
myself also took part in these experiments, but as I knew
Fechner's statements and as I found it difficult to free myself
from a certain Befangenheit, I have omitted my results. I
should say, perhaps, that in general they agree with those ob-
tained from the other reagents, especially H and M. The
taking part in these experiments has shown me still more clearly
that such observations are extremely difficult and only reliable
where they are made by very conscientious and thoughtful ob-
servers. After the first round of exposures was completed a
second was made. The results for the first and second exposure
rounds are given below in Table IX. under I. and II. The
indices found in connection with the judgment terms 3, 2, etc.,

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1 82 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

indicate the number of times the reagent raised the judgment
after saying * very much liked/ * disliked,' etc. During the
second exposure round on the day following the exposure of a
given picture, it was exposed for five minutes to the reagent
and the judgments during that period are given under III.

The following introspection of M, as well as the results in the
table above, corroborate Fechner's statement that * every, conse-
quently an aesthetic, stimulus needs a certain continuance of
activity before its effect is observable.' J/"says, " when I first
look at the picture there is an interval during which, while I
recognize it, it arouses no feeling. This varies perceptibly in
length with different pictures, being most brief in the case of a
picture strongly liked or disliked. The feeling, when it comes,
is usually not at once at its full intensity, that is, there is very
often a ' moderately liked ' judgment given which, within a few
seconds, changes to a ' very much liked ' judgment." The
above results also furnish abundant proof of the other statements
of Fechner ( V. d. A., II., 240-243) as " With a continuous like
remaining stimulus the impression increases up to a certain
limit which can be designated as the ascending effect. ... In
many cases the period of increase may be so shortened that one
thinks the first impression the strongest. . . . The aesthetic im-
pression (higher or lower) through lengthening or repeating of
the stimulus can never rise above certain limits. If the stim-
ulus is continued in the same or a similar way or repeated after
the entrance of the full strength of its effect, and if the original
sensibility has not been renewed through a long interval, the
impression is lessened. ... In each interruption of the con-
tinuance of an activity the original sensibility is partially or
wholly renewed." From the results of H it would also seem that
* strong, disagreeable stimuli through continuance or repetition
are relatively less easily and quickly dulled' ( V. d. A., II.,
242). Only occasionally is it shown above that * by the con-
tinuous or repeated action of a pleasurable or displeasurable
stimulus the weakening of the original effect can be transformed
to the opposite' ( V. d. A.9 II., 242). In view of the results
of this series of experiments it is evident that, * neither too long
a continuance nor too sudden nor too frequent a change in the

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 183

kind and direction of an employment (aesthetic) is pleasurable '
( V. d. A., II., 247). Also that * the degree and change of
degree in employment which is most satisfactory depends on
individual relations of physical and psychical power.' Similar
long exposures with lines also show, as Fechner says, that * the
need of a change arises the sooner, the greater the approxima-
tion to uniformity, and is stronger the longer the need is not
satisfied' — and that * too much and too little occupation in a
given time gives one displeasure.' Before closing this part of
the discussion it should perhaps be said that the study of the
judgments on individual pictures furnishes many illustrations of
Fechner's principle of habit that * a pleasurable stimulus becomes
a necessity through frequent action or repetition ' and that * a
disagreeable stimulus becomes more easily endurable.' A study
of the introspections given in connection with the experiments
increases one's confidence in the results.

The two following are typical : H said, in connection with
one picture, she had drawn herself up * with a start ' and said to
herself ' it is beautiful.' J/said that, during the forty-five minute
exposure, she was * distinctly conscious' of not liking to change
her judgment. The following, gleaned from a study of the in-
trospections spontaneously given, throw some light both on the
origin of the above judgments and on the reasons for their mo-
mentary and more constant changes. In giving judgment /f and
M considered the picture as a whole. In examining, for exam-
ple, the Sistine Madonna, If said that, when she was inclined to
look at one detail, she felt she must look at the whole picture.
As regards individual preferences, H liked the pictures of Ter
Borch, Pieter de Hooch, the portraits of Holbein, especially
those pictures where technique was an important element. M
took especial pleasure in pictures with people, especially if the
facial expressions were well brought out and she liked them. In
case she did not like the expression, as in Giorgione's ' Portrait
of a Young Man,' Botticelli's * Portrait of Piero de Medici the
Younger,' and Holbein's « Portrait of Erasmus,' her judgment
was not high. K, whose judgment as compared with the others
is very low (this is partly due doubtless to a difference in the
application of the terms, though she herself says often that she

1 84 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

feels she does not get that pleasure from pictures that many
others do), gives her judgment in general on some unimportant
detail, as^the vase of lilies in Andrea Delia Robbia's 'Annun-
ciation.' ' H and M occasionally give judgments * slightly
liked ' resp. * disliked ' where some detail strikes them particu-
ularly, and they feel they * must give something,' when as
regards the picture as a whole they are indifferent. There was
one detail, however, if one can call it a detail, which was
always' largely determinative for H. It is the kind of day in
which she feels ' blue and despondent,' her ' gloomy day,' as
she calls it. Such a day as is presented in Carpaccio's * Re-
turn of the Ambassadors to England/ Corot's * A Gust of Wind/
etc. For M also there is a determining factor, and that is the
presence of a mother and child in the picture, especially if the
child is held in the mother's arms. Over and over she speaks of
the delightful physical sensations arising from the sense of touch
in connection with the child's flesh, which she experiences on
the seeing of such a picture. Touch sensations, which very often
arise in connection with the pictures for this reagent and occa-
sionally for the others, are not always conducive to a high judg-
ment. For example, the touch sensation arising in connection
with the bare feet touching a stone pavement is « distinctly dis-
agreeable.' As regards sensations as a whole it may be said,
in view of the following and similar introspections, that they
certainly play a role in determining the amount a picture is
liked, resp. disliked, if not whether it is liked, resp. disliked.
The judgment was lowered during a long exposure of Pieter
de Hooch's « The Buttery ' because H felt the room become
* hot and stuffy,' of Corot's * A Road in Sunshine,' because she
felt she * was going along a road on a hot day.' Both //and
K heard the noises while looking at Hogarth's ' The March of
Finchley,' and H * was troubled ' by them. On fC's part the
hearing of noises was doubtless an illusion sometimes, for she
discovered later, on one occasion, that the noise of a passing
wagon had been located in the picture ; the ' child became
heavy ' during a long exposure of Holbein's * Madonna of the
Meyer Family,' the weight of the book became ' burdensome '
in looking at Diirer's « Four Apostles — St. Mark and St. Paul.'

FECHNEIt'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 185

In long exposure of Ruben's ' Descent from the Cross/ H
could feel the pulling on the teeth of the cloth held in the mouth
of one of the men and the muscular strength he was obliged to
exert. In looking at this picture all the reagents felt the phys-
ical pain in connection with the taking down of Christ's body.
The feeling of sensations must contribute to giving that * re-
ality ' to the picture, of which all the reagents frequently speak
in connection with the long exposures, which has a decided in-
fluence upon the judgment. K, with whom feeling of * reality '
plays an important part, says, on giving a low judgment while
examining Gainsborough's ' The Blue Boy,' that the boy, whom
she does not like, stands out and seems * real ' as if she were
meeting him. Later, on raising her judgment, she remarked
that when she looked at the background she liked it and had
then said to herself she ought to think of the scene as a pic-
ture and when she had done so she liked it. K even locates
herself in a picture. In Leonardo da Vinci's * The Virgin of
the Rocks' she feels herself standing just back of the figures,
//says, in Pieter de Hooch's picture of * The Buttery,' on lower-
ing her judgment, that the picture is ' so real ' that she feels the
woman ought to have handed the pitcher. The same reagent
says, after examining Ruben's * Descent from the Cross ' a
second time, " I did not enjoy the treatment as much this time.
I thought of it (the picture) as some real scene, while before I
thought of it as a painting and took much pleasure in the rela-
tive handling and mastery of the subject." Imitative and other
movements were observed occasionally in connection with the
examination of the pictures, especially by M. She feels herself
* falling into the expression of the faces in turn in looking from
one person to another ' in a picture. The reagents were also
conscious of certain other pleasurable movements in looking at
the pictures. That, for example, of the running of the eye up
and down the winding stair of Burne-Jones' * The Golden
Stairs.' The vacillations in the judgments not directly refer-
able to the vacillations of the attention itself, as well as the
doubtful judgments, are doubtless due to the mode of examin-
ing the picture, which is characteristic of all the reagents, that
is, the eye passes from one detail to another, having an especial

1 86

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

tendency to return to the detail most liked. Such a mode of
examination doubtless increases the pleasure1 but it must some-
times result in conflicting feelings. My own * doubtful ' judg-
ments, for example, on Valasquez's * The Topers ' was due to
the fact that I could not decide whether I liked the group of
figures at the right more than I disliked those at the left. In
giving a judgment on Ruben's ' Descent from the Cross ' M
says * the judgment is each time a compromise between a dis-
like of central figure and a liking for the rest of the picture/
Of Holbein's * Madonna of the Meyer Family ' the same reagent
says " here it was wholly a question of which part of the picture
I looked at, whether or not I liked it. The row of kneeling
women and the carpet are unpleasant to me ; the kneeling youth
and standing child indifferent, the rest pleasing, chiefly the
Madonna's face and the light on the ornaments at the back,
also face of kneeling man."

In connection with the gradual lowering of the judgment on
a picture and the final feeling of indifference with respect to it,
all the reagents report that all movements cease in the picture
(' dead ' is frequently applied here and * alive ' to the pictures
greatly liked), that it grows flat, tnat is, the picture ceases to be
seen in perspective, and there is difficult}' in holding the atten-
tion. The following introspection of K, in connection with the
second exposure of Watteau's picture, * The Fountain,' brings
out the changes in these respects. 1,5, etc., stands for minutes
and 2, 2-f, etc., under these numbers express the reagent's
judgments at the end of the period.

i 5

3°

4°

2 2-f

2+ 2 +

2 +

l±

I I

"I knew judgment at once and was surprised, for did not
want to look at Watteau to begin with. Like it better than ever
before. Seems darker yet more distinct than I had remem-
bered. Perspective pronounced. Figures stand out from back-
ground. Fountain-basin deep and water falling fast from

1 Compare Martin, Psychology of ^Esthetics, Experimental Prospecting in
the Field of the Comic, loc. cit.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 187

fountain. Suggests two sounds — a flat one, of water falling
on flat surface ; and a deeper one, of falling into basin. Can-
not say sounds are real. Trees seem just going to wave against
sky; clouds seem moving slowly. The longer I look, the more
figures stand out in detail, from background, and from each
other. (10 min.) Seems to be a crosswise motion of leaves of
trees on right, like a wind blowing a little. Light spot looks
like toe of a boot, and spoils picture some. Trees on right rise
alone — stand out from background. Want to look at individual
things in picture yet like it so much as a whole I cannot stop ;
though remember I divided it into three parts last time. Seems
as though there were a steep cliff, in the part back of the figures.
Shadows on water in basin make water seem clear but deep.
Like picture, but attention not quite as good. (25 min.) Atten-
tion better, but do not like picture quite so much — picture less
lifelike. (35 min.) No movement unless I suggest it. Water
seems a white streak unless I wonder if it will s\\\\Jloiu , then it
does. (Did not suggest before.) Is not so pleasing as at first,
yet interested in seeing if it will not be as pleasing again.
Something * slowing up.' Find I am excited — heart beats
faster, breathing uneven. Want to like picture, yet pleasure
seems slipping out of my power. (40 min.) Excitement gone,
and picture flat, except for drapery and fountain-basin. Still
enjoy it, but not so much as at first. Do not feel tired. Have
enjoyed this picture more than any other except No. 53." As
regards cessation of movement in a picture as liking lessens H
says, after looking at Pieter de Hooch's * Cottage Interior* for
a while, in lowering her judgment, ' the figure seems to have
stopped work to pose ' ; of Frans Hals' ' The Jolly Man,' the
* man smiled at first, then the smile ceased and the mouth just
seemed open ' ; of the mother in Raphael's * La Belle Jardi-
niere,' ' seemed as if she were going to do something at first, then
she did not and I was tired of watching.' M frequently used
term ' fades out ' in connection with lowering her judgment.
On being asked what she meant she said « I can scarcely explain
what happens ; a face which was at one moment expressive, the
next is expressionless.' As the expression did not return, this
can scarcely be referred to as a phenomenon peculiar to the

1 88

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

activity of the attention itself. As regards the decrease of depth
(it is interesting to remember 'transparency' as a commenda-
tory term in art and * flat ' as the opposite) or perspective which
often accompany the lowering of the judgment, it was said, for
example, of the dog in Lanseer's ' High Life,' " it lost in realism
and it seemed then a 'flat piece of paper.'" After looking at
Holbein's ' Madonna of the Meyer Family,' the expressions of
all the figures began to grow set and hard to one ; I then began
to dislike it very rapidly, finally I felt the whole picture stiff,
ugly and flat and it really gave me no feeling whatever. M
said on one occasion " sometimes the picture ' flattens,' that is,
the perspective is no longer visible to the eye. The distant
mountain seems to be standing just beside the near man instead
of in the background. Being only a part of a man's height,
the effect is to destroy any significance in the picture." Fechner
makes a good deal of the part played by attention in (Esthetic
appreciation. He says ' the attention must be first put or kept
on the stretch (gespannt). All the reagents spoke of the diffi-
culty of holding the attention in connection with the lessening of
pleasure derived from the picture. Again M says, "I find
noise or movement when I am looking at a picture tends to lessen
my enjoyment of it. This is especially true of the sound of
footsteps approaching the door."

Judgment-time. — The previous results show that the three
seconds' exposure given in a recent investigation in aesthetics l
would not have been sufficient for the full strength of the im-
pression in the case of these reagents. Table X. below, in
which is given the average time expressed in seconds for the
various judgment categories in the case of the first fifty pictures

TABLE X.

Reagents.

Average Time Taken for Judgments.

Average Time
for a Single
Judgment.

—i

—3

M
K
F

2
6
2

4
6

3
7

7
4
7

10
20

6
13

4
14

3
7
4
13

1KUlpe, 'Bin Beitrag zur experimentelle Esthetic,' Amer. Jour. Psy.,
XIV., 215.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, XIII, 1906.

PLATE IV, MARTIN,

A CASE OF PSEUDO-CHROMAESTHESIA, BASED ON REPRODUCTION OF COROT'S
"ORPHEUS GREETING THE MORN" (IN BLACK AND WHITE).

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. 189

used, shows moreover that it would not have been sufficient for
the making of the judgment in the terms here used.

The shorter time consumed in giving the higher judgment,
which is observed above, must not be interpreted in anv way
as a measure of the continuance of the pleasurable impression,
for it was particularly in connection with the corresponding pic-
ture that the reagents expressed themselves as sorry to have the
particular stimulus removed. Such expressions were a proof
doubtless that the point of satiety was still far away ( V. d. A.,
II., 244).

III. EXPERIMENTAL STUDY OF THE PRINCIPLE OF ASSOCIATION.

" Everything -with -which we are surrounded is for us p/iys-
ically characterized through \being\ a resultant of remem-
brances of everything -which -we have experienced externally
and internally, heard, read, thought, and learned concerning
this and even related things" (V. d. A., I., 93). Innumer-
able illustrations of this principle occurred in the various ex-
periments. Two of these forms are of especial interest in that
they lead one to see that this principle must be made to cover
cases of pseudo-chromaesthesia and illusions or hallucinations,
as they evidently play a part in aesthetic judgments.

Pseudo-chromcesthesia as an ^Esthetic Factor. — An unusual
form of association — semi pseudo-chromaesthesia — without
doubt sometimes determined the judgment of H on the first ex-
amination of a picture and was in subsequent examinations
sometimes the cause of a change of judgment. During the
exposures of the hundred pictures of Series VI., VII., Miss
Hayward(/f), who draws and paints in both water color and
oil, frequently spoke of seeing' color in some of the pictures, of
seeing them in a particular media, as water color, oil, etc. She
remarked, for example, that Corot's 'Orpheus Greeting the
Morn ' appeared as a water color, and Pieter de Hooch's ' A
Woman Reading,' as an oil painting. At the close of these two
series of experiments I gave the pictures just mentioned to Miss
Hay ward and asked her to reproduce these as they appeared to
her. The first was copied in water color and is reproduced in
Plate IV. in the colors she saw. The second was copied in oil,

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

and purple and a rich brown were the predominating colors.
Economical considerations have prevented the reproduction of
the second picture also. Miss Hayward affirms that these col-
ored reproductions represent just what she sees, though she
knows that the pictures are in black and white. Her great
surprise on hearing that I did not ever see any colors in repro-
ductions of this kind confirms me in the opinion that she cer-
tainly sees colors in some instances where other people see only
the varying shades of black and white. Later in the experi-
ments of Series XI. I found that Miss Winslow (M. W.) also
sees some black and white pictures in color.

Series VIII. — To ascertain the (esthetic effect of semt-
•pseudochrom&sthesia. — In order, if possible, to get some
further information regarding the origin and permanence and
effect on the judgment, as regards the liking of a picture, of this
peculiarity, which is evidently something in the nature of pseudo-
chromaesthesia, I asked Miss Hayward to make a careful study
along this line of each of the hundred pictures used in the pre-
vious series, recording her observations and accompanying them
by sketches on which the colors seen were noted. The pictures
were examined twice in this wray, a month having elapsed be-
tween the examination, of each picture. Of course the records
of the first examination were not consulted or compared with
the second, in fact they were in my possession during the time
the second examination was going on. The following is a sum-
mary of the observations recorded from day to day. Table
XL shows under I. the number of pictures in which the colors
were the same on both examinations, under II. the number in
which the colors were slightly different, under III. entirely dif-
ferent, and under IV. the number where the reagent was doubt-
ful. It will be seen that the seeing of color is very frequent.
Examination of the records further shows that purple is the color
more often seen and as regards position that it is found particu-
larly in the deep shadows.

TABLE XL

in.

IV.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 191

The forms in which the first hundred pictures were seen
were oil paintings, water colors, monochrome drawings, char-
coal sketches, photographs of casts, Japanese prints, and as in
real life. In Table XII. below has been recorded under I., II.,
III., etc., the number of pictures falling in each of the classes
just given in the order they were named, on the first examina-
tion (A), the second (B), and on both examinations ( C).

TABLE XII.

A
B
C

II.

III-

IV.

VI.

VII.

6
4

3
i

9
3

It will be observed that the impression as regards the medium
was somewhat permanent, as in 66 of the 100 pictures it is the
same in both examinations. The same is also shown from the
fact that in the case of several pictures, which were exposed
ten minutes, not only did the medium not alter, but so far as
reagent could observe there was no change as regards satu-
ration or color tone. The fact that repeated effort to change
the medium in which a picture appeared through suggestion
was rarely successful furnishes still further proof.

Many factors enter into determining the color and medium
in which the black and white reproductions appear on the first
and subsequent examinations, (i) One thing having a deter-
minative power is the subject and mode of treatment in the
originals. In the hundred pictures of series V. and VI. no
pictures are reported by the reagent as appearing as if mosiacs,
frescoes, or stained glass as regards medium, but later these
media are frequently mentioned in connection with the exami-
nation of the pictures of the early Italian school.1 (2) The nature
of the print itself also had an influence. Whether, for example,
it is so printed that one seems to * see the canvas.' Trial showed
that different kinds of black and white reproductions of a picture
approximately of the same size gave different colors and media.

1 Without doubt the mosaic work on the Stanford Memorial church and its
stained glass windows have an influence as regards the seeing of some pictures
in the media just mentioned.

192 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

(3) The size of the reproduction also has an influence. Many
of the larger reproductions published by George P. Brown & Co.
appear in decided colors, but the smaller reproductions of them
which are found in the catalogue gave no color other than black
and white. In general the miniature pictures of the catalogue
gave no color at all. The effect of size is also seen in giving
the reagent pictures, said to appear in color, to examine with
reading and with reducing glasses. The first usually brings
out the colors in brighter shades but the second reduces them.

(4) The surroundings of the reagent play a part in determining
the colors and medium in which a picture is seen. This is
shown in the influence of the occupation of the preceding hour
upon the judgment. For example, where the hour before the
time had been spent in examining Japanese prints the first
pictures of the next experiment hour appeared in this form.1
The reagent also noticed that for several days after the exami-
nation of the same collection even the appearance of the land-
scape was affected. Things were literally seen from the Jap-
anese point of view. Again some of the pictures took on the
appearance of those of Brangyn when the work of this artist
had been studied during the previous hour. (5) Records were
made regarding the weather at the beginning of each experiment
hour and the lecords show that the nature of the weather was a
potent factor. When the day was dark and gloomy the colors
were less vivid — in some cases this went so far that pictures
which looked like oil paintings on sunny days came to have the
appearance of wash drawings on cloudy and dull days. An
example of this is found in Corot's ' Dance of the Nymphs/
As a rule the colors in the picture were those'of natural objects
on such a day. The reports show that if it was a bright sunshiny
day she saw the reds, yellows, and light purples and blue pre-
dominating. On the other hand, if it were a very gray day, the
more pictures would she see in the monochrome tones, or if as
oil paintings the colors would be grayer. The influence of the

1 From these and other studies which I have made on association I have
been led to feel that in studying the train of ideas far too little attention has
been paid to the influence of present environment on the results. It is for this
reason that pictures on the wall, etc., should not be in sight of the reagent
{luring these experiments.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. 193

kind of light on the colors and media in which the prints are
seen came out clearly in experiments where the pictures were
examined by daylight and then re-examined immediately alter
the room was darkened and the electric lights turned on. In this
connection it is interesting to find that the colors come out more
distinctly with two eyes than with one, and with the right c v< ,
the stronger eye, than with the left. (6) Again the condition of
health and the mood of the reagent at the time of the observation
plays a part in the result. On days when she recorded herself
as feeling joyous and happy, the colors were reported as having
life and variety and the bright warm colors predominated. On
the other hand, when she felt gloomy and sad she saw dull grays
and gloomy purples. An example of this is shown in Corot's * A
Gust of Wind.' On January 30, reagent is in good mental and
physical condition and this picture is recorded as * brilliant in
color, warm and transparent.' On February 21 the reagent
records that she is * sad and unhappy ' and the colors of this
picture are reported as * gloomy, dull and lifeless.'

The question naturally arises whether this reagent shows any-
thing resembling the usual forms of chromaesthesia or pseudo-
chromaesthesia. I have questioned her on number forms, the
letters of the alphabet, and colored hearing. She sees black
letters of the alphabet, numbers and lines usually in dark purple.
She also recalls them in this color. So far as I can find out she
had nothing in the nature of what goes under the name of
* colored hearing.' In view of all this, it is evident we are deal-
ing, as regards the appearance of these pictures to Miss Hay-
ward, with a case of pseudo-chromaesthesia more or less perma-
nent in character. On account of the changes which occur
under varying influences we are not obliged to seek for a very
complicated physiological explanation of the phenomena. It is
clearly a case of psychological association — an illusion. It is
interesting psychologically, because it gives absolute proof of
the validity of the association explanation of similar phenomena
which are so permanent in character that one is not able, as
here, to trace the associative steps. From an artistic standpoint
the interest lies particularly in the fact that purple is the color
which occurs more frequently. One observes in Plate IV. that

194

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

purple predominates and the same is true in the reports on the
other pictures. I suspect this is due to the impressionistic train-
ing which the reagent has had in painting. In her early instruc-
tion in painting she was told to see purple and in response she
called up the color through an act of memory and superimposed
it upon what was under examination. It was, in some sense, a
form of hallucination. Gradually this, which was at first an
effort, became so spontaneous that the reagent did not realize
in the least that she had used her memory. It is a fact that the
mere mention of a color to Miss Hayward makes her call it up
with surprising vividness. It is also interesting to find that
purple often comes first before her when she is asked to recall
a color.

It would seem not unnatural to suppose that the medium in
which a picture is seen must influence the degree with which it
is liked. Unfortunately I did not ask Miss Hayward to record
her judgments in examining the pictures on each of the two dif-
ferent occasions just referred to, and so I cannot say positively
in connection with those examinations that this was actually the
case. To get, if possible, something through which I could test
my supposition, I gave the mean judgment given to each picture
judged in Series VI. and then counted the number of judgments
to each class for the different kinds of media, and they are given
in Table XIII. below for those pictures which were placed in the
same class on both occasions. It will be seen at a glance that
the judgment is higher in case of pictures seen as oil paintings.

TABLE XIII.

Judgment Cate-
gory.

3 +

3—

2 +

2 —

— i —

— i

— 1+

-2-

— 2 +

—3—

—3

— 3 +

No. of 1
Pictures, li

Oil painting
Water color
Monochrome
Charcoal

2
T

I
5

25
4

Photograph of
cast

Real life

Doubtful

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS, 195

To learn whether H's variations in judgment could be traced
to changes as regards medium and color in which these pictures
were seen I showed her, in a room flooded with sunlight, when
she was feeling physically well, 91 pictures which she had seen
a month previous as charcoal sketches, monochromes, or as
sepias, that is, in white and black or shades of brown, and
asked her to give a judgment upon each and to state the medium
in which it was seen. These judgments I compared with the
judgments given the month before when she was below normal
in health and the room in which she was seated was well lighted
by diffuse light, that is, where no direct sunlight entered it.
Thirty-two of these pictures were now seen in colors other than
those mentioned above (as to medium they appeared now as oil
paintings, water colors, or as in * real life '), 19 of them were
judged higher, 2 lower, and n as on the first examination. Of
the 59 pictures, which were seen as regards color as at first, 21
were judged higher, 7 lower, and 31 as on the first examina-
tion. Evidently the improved physical condition and bright
sunlight had increased the seeing of color. They had also
increased the liking for the pictures, but the increase is much
more marked in the case of the pictures which now showed
color. There is evidently some connection between the liking
and the seeing of the color. It seems more natural to suppose
the seeing of color in a picture increased her liking for it, but
these experiments suggest that the change of feeling may pos-
sibly bring about the change in color through association.
That is, that the pictures which are most liked are those in which
the colors are most marked.

Illusions and Hallucinations.— These played an important
role in the experiments with Miss Merrilies (M). In the pre-
liminary experiments recorded in Series II. she said, in study-
ing the different impressions from lines of different lengths,
when 23 mm. of the line had been uncovered, that she had been
indifferent to the line up to that point but now disliked it because
she saw a woman lying on the line and when she reached her
chin the face was unpleasant; at 200 mm. she remarked that
the figure had begun to draw out below the waist; at 230 mm.
that it was hideous ; and at 480 mm. that the woman had sud-
denly disappeared and the line had become a line.

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

In connection with the experiments with lines, only a few
such associations or hallucinations were reported by Af, but in
the examination of the pictures they were quite frequently
spoken of. For example, she says after looking at Burne-Jones'
* Love among the Ruins,' " Here I see, back of the two figures
actually in the picture, a shadowy passage winding from left to
right and in it, close to the left wall, the crouched form of a
man. He is partly hidden by the shadows, his face screened.
His direction of movement is towards the two figures in the
garden." Again on looking at * Apollo Sanroctonus ' of Prax-
iteles, she says, " I see here below the pedestal the slender
marble column on which it rests. It stretches down to a
base, set among broken rocks.' This form of illusion was
frequent.

Series IX. — To ascertain the cesthetic effect of illusions and
hallucinations.

At the close of the experiments recorded in Series VII., M
made, at my suggestion, a study of these illusions, working fifty
minutes or more daily during several months. In this time she
twice examined a set of 585 pictures, taken from the Masters-
in-Art Series of Illustrated Monographs. The mode of exami-
nation was to uncover a picture, look at it sufficiently long for
recognition, and then to turn it over and record the impression
made before looking at the next picture in the set. The follow-
ing account of the work, which I have compared and find to
agree with the original records, is taken from the written sum-
mary handed to me at the close of the work.

Number of Illusions. — Out of 1170 exposures, there were
found to be 374 which returned illusions, that is, 31.961 per
cent, of all the pictures examined presented an illusion or hallu-
cination of some kind.

Classes of Illusions. — The pictures containing illusion were
divisible into three*general classes as regards recurrence ; (i)
those pictures in'which the same illusion occurred upon both
exposures (this class includes 9.26 per cent, of the entire number
of pictures examined (1170)); (2) those pictures which pre-
sented an illusion oLone kind upon the occasion of one exposure
and a different illusion upon a second exposure (2.05 per cent.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. 197

of the pictures examined) ; (3) those pictures which presented
an illusion upon one examination and no illusion upon the other
(20.68 per cent, of the pictures examined).

Nature of Constant Illusions. — There were thus 54
pictures — 108 exposures — which returned a constant result. In
these 54 cases the illusion took the form of (i) in 25 cases, com-
pletion of or addition to the landscape which formed the back-
ground of the picture ; other elements appeared, but the com-
pletion of a partly shown background was the important thing.
This is illustrated by Rosa Bonheur's * Sheep in a Meadow,'
where a gently sloping plain and hill, both dotted by sheep, was
seen. Under this head are counted those pictures which pre-
sented the appearance of great space. It is to be noted that
most of the landscapes thus seen were of rolling hill country,
very often with mountains in the background — scenes with
which Mhad been long familiar. Only in one case was a flat,
marshy background seen into a picture and in this case the
setting was distinctly Dutch. (2) In seven cases — five to the
right and two to the left — there was permanently the sense of
some unseen presence in the background of the picture. (3) In
five cases there was reduplication of a face or figure already
present. (4) In four cases there was completion of a figure
partly seen. (5) In fifteen there was the addition of some new
element not directly traceable to the content of the picture. It
must be borne in mind, however, that these divisions are not
absolute. A picture containing completion of background may
also have reduplication and is classed according to the illusion
which seems of greater importance.

Illusions from Without. — Previous occupation has a marked
influence upon the occurrence of an illusion. Not only does
one picture in a series influence the next, but one picture will,
perhaps, cast its influence over a number of those succeeding it.
Sometimes also the previous thought or occupation of the re-
agent will influence the entire series during the day. In five out
of the twelve cases in which a distinctly different illusion is pre-
sented upon one examination from that found on the other, the
difference can be accounted for on the ground of previous occu-
pation. Sometimes a face or figure is transferred entire from

I98 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

one picture to another ; l thus in Pieter de Hooch's * Dutch In-
terior' it is noted, * As soon as I saw her (woman holding wine
glass), I saw the face of that other woman sipping wine in
another picture.' The picture referred to had been seen in
another set, but the similarity of action caused it to reproduce
itself upon the eye, so that it was more strongly present than
the real picture. This direct and recognizable transference is,
however, rare. It may be added that illusions are not confined
to pictures nor their reproduction to superimposition upon other
pictures. In nearly every case in which occurred a vivid case
of illusion and in many cases of pictures in which there was no
illusion, the scene was reproduced upon the wall as soon as the
eyes were raised from the picture. Frequently one scene would
come back each time the eyes were raised during the hour's
work. At first their return would be a source of pleasure, but
weariness and a sense of inability to escape from the return
would transform it into discomfort. Then to avoid it the reagent
would consciously summon some other scene and place it on the
wall, for illusions, though they cannot always be dismissed at
will, can be summoned at will when this reagent is normal. If
the eyes are fixed upon a picture or blank space and the mind
is freed from the control of the will, pictures will usually come
and go in succession. There is no sense of weariness until one
picture begins to come back frequently and cannot be kept away.
Blank surfaces, more than any picture, are conducive to illu-
sion. A surface cut by a line is also likely to cause illusion.
Thus a thin, vertical black line brings before the eyes a budding
willow branch. This is probably because such a line was the
base line of a willow drawing made a number of times by M as
a child. Miss Merrilies thinks that, as a child, the power of
imposing mental images upon external things was greater than
it now is, and the ability to distinguish between the real and the
imaginary less complete, but can give no very satisfactory proof
of it. It should be noted that when the mind is directed toward
some particular end, illusion is unlikely to appear. If work is

JIn recalling one of a series of pictures I have found that I have transferred
some detail of some other picture to it and it seems not improbable to me that
people may often have illusions of this kind which may effect their estimate of
a picture.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. 199

begun with the determination that mental pictures shall not be
externally placed, they usually are not so placed; if, how*
the placing has begun a determination that it is to cease is likely
to prove ineffective. The pictures containing illusions are the
ones which recur more readily to the mind after seeing. Three
months after the completion of her work with the pictures, the
reagent was asked to make a list of the 30 pictures w.hich first
came into her mind from the set examined. From the list of 30
it was found that 28 were pictures containing illusions, although
the number of pictures containing illusion at the time of the ex-
aminaton was but 3 1 .96 per cent, of the whole number examined.

Placing of Illusions. — After the completion of the original
examination, some pictures containing illusion were again ex-
amined to find whether the illusion was placed oftener upon one
side of a picture than upon the other. It was found that the
illusion was invariably placed toward the more heavily shad-
owed side, whether this were to the right or left. In transfer-
ring an illusion to the wall, when the light came from the left,
the illusion was placed to the right ; when the light came from
the right, it was placed to the left.

Characteristics of Pictures Having Illusions. — Among the
pictures presenting illusions, either persistent or variable, the
following characteristics were usually present, although often
only one, not all, of them occurred in a' single picture, (i)
Pictures presenting illusion have frequently very dark back-
grounds or backgrounds filled with shadowy and indistinct
lines. The background is usually uncrowded. (2) Often the
pose or expression of some of the central figures suggests the
completion made ; this includes those pictures in which a partly
shown figure is completed or in which a background was en-
larged. (3) Explanation of the pose or expression of a figure
is also frequent. For example, in Reynold's ' Age of Inno-
cence ' one sees at what the child is looking because one sees
the child. Suggestiveness, then, and space for the placing of
an illusion are the prime characteristics of those pictures in
which they appear.

Effect of Different Conditions upon Illusion. — That many
pictures fulfilling the above conditions were, nevertheless, with-

200 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

out illusion may be explained by the different conditions, ex-
ternal and mental, under which they were seen, (i) Sometimes
in two pictures closely resembling each other an illusion will be
seen in one but not in the other. In Plate I. of Part 33 is
shown a mutilated statue against an intensely black background ;
the figure was completed by illusion. The next following
picture has also an intensely black background, has also a
partly completed figure, yet the eye saw in it only what was
represented by the artist. The difference in effect in the two
cases lies probably in the sequence of the pictures. In the
entire 1,170 pictures examined there are but 27 cases in which
two illusions occur in immediate succession. That an illusion
has appeared in one picture seems, therefore, to be prejudicial
to its appearance in the picture immediately following. This is
true in feeling as well as in fact. (2) The place of a picture in
the series for the day also affects its illusions. I find that illu-
sions, in the experiments made, appear fourteen times in the
first picture of the daily series, twelve times in the third, thirteen
times in the tenth, fourteen times in the thirteenth, six times in
the sixteenth and five times in the last. Between the first and
sixteenth pictures seems to be the most favorable position. At
or about the sixteenth there is a marked decrease in the number
of illusions and this remains true to the end of the series. (3)
External surroundings influence the effect of pictures upon a
reagent. Three cloudy days, chosen at random, give but 17.77
per cent, of the pictures in which illusions are found. Three
sunshiny days present 19.56 per cent. In several cases a day
comparatively barren of results is explained by a note calling
attention to the fact that the building was unusually noisy during
the hour of work. Hearing people walking in the passage out-
side the door was very distracting. (4) Abnormal physical con-
dition had a variable effect according to its kind. Two days
marked * tired ' present but 10.3 per cent, of its pictures in which
any illusion is found. In two days marked * below normal,' on
the other hand, 25 per cent, of the pictures return illusions.
(5) Abnormal mental condition is fairly certain in its results
according to its kind. Excitement has a tendency to increase
the vividness and complexity of illusion. Preoccupation and

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 2OI

depression decrease illusion. The more vivid the illusions, the
sooner they cause weariness and the consequent disappearance
of illusion later in the hour's work. This last is true as a gen-
eral rule, but a few exceptions to it may be noted. For example,
in ' The Age of Innocence,' the illusion is both vivid and rest-
ful. Two pictures — Watt's 'Love and Life* and 'Love and
Death' — were the most tiring of the series though the repre-
sentations were no more vivid than in the former case. Thus it
is evident that both vividness and subject matter influence the
effect of illusion upon the reagent.

Variable Illusions. — In 22.73 Per cent, of the whole num-
ber of pictures examined, either an illusion was present upon
one examination and was not found again, or the illusion found
on one examination differed from that found on the other*
These variable illusions were ordinarily slight in nature — the
completion of a figure partly shown, the reduplication of some
object, or the extension of a landscape. Different position in
the series of pictures, and different external and mental and
physical conditions serve to account for them.

Pictures Presenting1 no Illusions. — There were, from the
1,170 pictures examined 796 (68.03 per cent, of the whole)
which returned no illusion upon either examination. Part of
these were afterward reexamined by themselves. Some of them,
on this third examination, returned an illusion. Of those which
persistently failed to do so, it was found that they had either (i)
backgrounds crowded with figures or objects so that no con-
siderable vacant space was left therein, or (2) very light back-
grounds, or (3) the representation of a complete scene of some
uninteresting nature as, in Plate I., Part 20, the picture of a
lady washing her hands, where the figures fill the foreground
and catch attention without exciting interest. (4) The point at
which the eyes first strike the picture has an effect. The inten-
tion was to look first at the central point. If this were filled by
some indifferent or disliked figure, illusion was unlikely to result
even if the rest of the picture were suitable for illusion.

Definition of Terms. — The term ' illusion ' has for conveni-
ence been applied, throughout this paper, to all mental appear-
ances placed externally. Strictly speaking, these appearances

202 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

fall into two classes : (i) Illusion, which is an appearance based
upon misinterpretation of something actually within the picture.
Veronese's ' Christ at Emmaus ' is a case of illusion. Here in
the background are white clouds in a black sky above a very
small city. The eye, seeing the black and white in conjunc-
tion, transforms it into an ice-filled river and sees it so, even
after discovering the city below. (2) Hallucination is found
when the mind places something within a picture without
obvious external suggestion. Giorgione's * Concert ' is an
example. Here are shown three faces. The eyes of the cen-
tral face are fixed on the distance. Seeing the expression of
the eyes, the reagent placed the scene toward which they were
looking, though this was in no way suggested in the picture, by
anything actually placed therein. It is not possible to distin-
guish very sharply between cases of illusion and those of
hallucination because frequently both are present in the same
picture. Nearly always it is possible to assign some reason for
the seeing of a given appearance, but this reason is thought out
afterward — the appearance is instantaneous. Real and im-
aginary are seen together without distinction, so that the picture
forms a whole. It is practically always possible to tell what is
real and what is imaginary — there occurred only two cases in
which doubt was felt — but how the difference is marked cannot
be defined. The two seem alike to the eye ; the mind knows
which is which.

Results Obtained -with Enlarging and Reducing Glasses. —
In using these glasses the illusion increased and decreased in
size as did the picture. Moreover, the enlarging glass often
made plain the exact nature of objects in the background so that
they no longer served as a basis for an illusion. The use of one
eye had no effect on the illusion except in so far as the attention
was focused on the part of the picture opposite the eye used.

Effect of Illusion upon the Judgment. — (i) In the constant
illusions the relation between liking and illusion was very marked.
In the two constant classes of pictures in which illusion always
appeared and pictures in which it did not appear at all, the judg-
ments were as follows — Class I. representing the pictures in
which illusion was always present and Class II. those in which
it was never present :

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF ESTHETICS. 203

TABLE XIV.

Terms of judgment

— I

— 3

—3

Total number or pictures.

Class I

1 T

Class II

•17

•JQ*

•> 'J

Thus in Class I., 55-55 per cent, of the pictures were very
much liked ; in Class II., only 7.88 per cent. In Class I., the
element of indifference was entirely absent; in Class II., 20.35
per cent, were judged indifferent. Considering the whole table,
it is evident that low judgments, both of liking and of disliking
are more often present in pictures which present no illusion ; in
pictures presenting an illusion, the elements of indifference and
of slight dislike are absent. (2) Variable illusions. The rela-
tion between liking and illusion is still more plainly shown by a
comparison of the judgments given on those pictures in which an
illusion was seen upon the occasion of one examination, but not
upon the other. Taking those pictures which present an illusion
on the first examination but not on the second, we find the judg-
ment to be higher on the first occasion than on the second in
50.9 per cent, of the pictures examined, equal in 45.45 per cent,
and lower in only 3.63 per cent. While then it is very evident
that there is some connection between the liking for a picture
and the occurrence of an illusion in examining it, it seems im-
possible to say which is the cause and which the effect.

Conclusions Drawn from the Experiments. — The mind has
the ability to locate mental images externally, so that they shall
not differ in appearance from real images. The exercise of this
ability is conditioned by the mental and physical state of the
reagent, and by his external surroundings. The content of
these mental images is affected by the former experience and
occupation of the reagent, and also by the kind of surface pre-
sented for reproduction. In general, a decided liking for a pic-
ture and illusions in connection with it go hand in hand.

Series X. — To ascertain the effect of the title of the picture
upon the (esthetic judgment .

Before concluding the discussion of the law of association,
mention should perhaps be made of some experiments in which

204 L ILL I EN J. MARTIN.

Fechner's supposition ( V. d. A., L, 136), that the legend may
or may not enhance the pleasure derived from a picture, was
tested. Neither the title of a picture nor the name of the artist
who painted it was shown to the reagent when the pictures used
in Series VI. were first shown. After experiments recorded in
Table VII were completed, the pictures were shown in turn to
each of the reagents and each was asked to give a judgment
upon them and to tell whether she knew the title of the picture
or the name of the artist who painted it. Immediately after-
wards, the pictures the reagents did not know were again shown
to them and they were told the name of the author who painted
each and its title and they were asked whether they wished to
change their judgment. Table XV. below gives the results.
In I. are given the number of pictures unknown as regards art-
ist and title, in II. and III. respectively the number of pictures
judged higher, resp. lower, after acquiring this knowledge.
Evidently knowledge regarding the artist and the title does have
some influence upon the judgment.

TABLE XV.

Reagents.

ii.

in.

M
H
K

66
29
35

6
6
5

4
i
o

IV. DATA DRAWN FROM THE PRECEDING EXPERIMENTS

WHICH THROW LIGHT ON OTHER ^ESTHETIC

PRINCIPLES OF FECHNER.

Proofs of the -principle of the (Esthetic mean (" when an ob-
ject undergoes chance changes in size or form the mean appears
under like conditions to be preferred." — V. d. A., II., 260) are
given in the preference for a moderate length and size in case
of straight lines and circles. The introspections in connection
with the examination of pictures also furnishes many confirma-
tions of this principle — a man ' is too stout,' the eyes of a cer-
tain woman are * too large and dark,' Burne-Jones' women are
'too long,' a given picture is ' too dark,' etc.

Of the principle of cesthetic help ( 'from the non-contradic-

FRCHNRR'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 205

tory gathering together of pleasurable conditions, which in
themselves are of themselves of little effect, arises a greater,
often much greater, pleasurable result than corresponds to the
pleasure value of the single factors in themselves, a greater than
can be explained as the sum of the single effects'" — V. d. A.,
51) innumerable proofs could be given. In determining the
size of background to be employed, the lines were drawn .on
sheets of paper of the same shape but of different sizes, and it
was found that the aesthetic impression varied with the size of the
background. For example, the larger circles were redrawn on
larger sheets of paper, as the reagents disliked them when on
small sheets just because they seemed out of proportion to the
size of the paper. In order to have the backgrounds of uniform
size the very small circles were first drawn on large sheets, but
here also the reagents found the comparative size of the paper
and the circles so unpleasant that they were redrawn on smaller
sheets. Trial also showed that the shape and color of the back-
ground were of decided influence. In the experiments here re-
corded the cards on which the lines were drawn were placed on
a table placed in a horizontal position, but after the work was
finished it was discovered that it would have been better to have
put them on an easel, that is, in a vertical position before the
reagent, as trial showed that, in case of nearly all the lines, the
aesthetic impression was stronger when they were placed in the
last position. Again, the distance at which the lines were exam-
ined was an important matter. Not one or two trials were made in
determining these matters, but all the sixteen lines were used,
and careful quantitative experiments were made. To econo-
mize space, it has been thought best to omit the tables of re-
sults and the details of these experiments, but that distance has
an influence there is no doubt. This is partly due to the change
thus made in the color and width of the line but also to the fact,
doubtless, that what is near calls forth a stronger personal feel-
ing. Personal peculiarities may, however, make the distant
observation more pleasurable. M liked the lines far away in
that they were less distinct and the illusions to which she is sus-
ceptible and in which she takes much pleasure more frequently
arose when the lines were in this position. One would not be

206 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

overestimating the importance of the principle of aesthetic help
were one to say that much of what relates to methodology in
experimental aesthetics could be considered under it.

A comparison of the judgments on the same pictures taken
on days when the reagent felt well and in a good humor with
those when she did not, furnish proof of the truth of the prin-
ciple of secondary pleasure and displeasure (' there can grow
secondary pleasures and displeasure out of one's own or foreign
ideas of past or future pleasure or displeasure ' — V. d. A., II.,
256). The effect of the reagent's physical and mental condition
was particularly marked on one occasion in the case of C. She
reported at the beginning of the experiment hour that she had
a * cold' and felt * out of sorts.' When the sixteen lines were
shown to her she gave the judgment ' indifferent ' in nearly every
case. Naturally I postponed the experiment until she had re-
covered, when the lines again gave her pleasure. In fact I
tried to set the experiments at a favorable time for all the re-
agents. When, for example, ^/reported that lines gave her
much greater pleasure earlier in the day, I planned for the
experiments at that time.

The introspections show that the extent to which the prin-
ciples of the unified connection of the manifold (' in order to find
pleasure in contemplating an object one must find offered there
a unified connected manifoldness ' V. d. A., I., 54), of the
economical applicatian of the means or of the smallest amount
of power ( V. d. A., II., 263), and of non-contradiction, agree-
ment and truth (' when introducing one and the same thing,
diverging motives occur, there is a sense of pleasure if we
observe that they really result in a harmonious conception, but
a sense of displeasure if we find that they result in one that is
inharmonious' V. d. A., I., 82), especially the first two, are
complied with in the execution of the work, greatly influence
the judgments of the reagents.

V. EXPERIMENTAL STUDY OF ^ESTHETIC CONTRAST, OF

^ESTHETIC SEQUENCE AND COMPENSATION.
i. The Principle of Esthetic Contrast. (" One can say in
general that that -which gives pleasure gives the more pleasure,

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 207

the more it enters into contrast with that which gives displeasure
or is less pleasure giving and there is a corresponding principle
Jor the displeasurable" (V. d. A., II., 232).

Where * rest,' * peace,' * calmness,' * absorption/ * inner imi-
tation,' * sympathy,' * buoyancy,' ' sense of freedom,' etc., play
the determining role in aesthetic pleasure one would scarcely ex-
pect the above principle to stand the test of experiment. To
ascertain whether the condition of repose and absorption also
characterizes the aesthetic impression of persons who not only
had no aesthetic theories of their own, but were ignorant of the
theories that had been proposed by others, the sixty-three stu-
dents attending lectures on the * Psychology of the Emotions '
were each asked to select three Brown reprints which they very
much liked and to write down as accurately as they could what
they experienced in looking at them. Some few gave a report
having an objective character, that is, they spoke of the * grace-
ful figures ' of a picture * the play of light and shade,' * the silky
texture of the garments,' of * the white masses against a dark
ground,' etc., but the majority making the reports dwelt upon
the sense of peace and absorption that they experienced in look-
ing at the picture selected. The following introspections are
typical : ' I found that the sense of quiet and peace which they
caused was the principal feeling, * a forgetting of myself and
surroundings momentarily and a resulting rest,' * I noticed my
mind seemed to lighten as if a weight had been lifted from it,' • I
found that the dominating sensation was one of content and rest-
fulness,' ' I felt quiet and rested inside, and my heart seemed to
beat softer and my breathing to be quieter,' * as I looked I found
myself in a position of easy relaxation, breathing deeply and
wilh a feeling of happiness and ease,' * there is a quietness, a
strange restfulness which steals over me as I look at the picture,'
" on looking at a picture I like my heart begins to beat faster and
I say to myself, * I like that picture.' Then for a few moments
I feel myself perfectly lost in peace and contentment with life
My brain is in a passive state and I don't seem to be thinking or
to be very conscious of anything. Then all at once I waken
from my semi-conscious state to wonder why I liked the picture."

In view of the above and similar introspections, one is not

208 L1LLIEN J. MARTIN.

surprised to find that in general Fechner's law of contrast
which is not calculated as are his other aesthetic laws to secure
mental and physical repose, does not stand the test of experiment.
Series XI. — Object: To ascertain the effect of sitmdtaneous
(Esthetic contrast. In these experiments the pictures were shown
in pairs. Each picture of a pair was first shown alone to the
reagent and he gave his judgment upon it. The pair was then
laid on the table before him and he again gave his judgment
upon each of the pictures comprising it. After reversing the
position of the two pictures in the pair, the reagent again gave
a judgment upon each. To eliminate the effect of aesthetic
fatigue and summation, the pictures used (this set of pictures
was partly made up of Brown reprints, varying as to subject and
degrees of beauty, and partly of pictures very much disliked by
the experimenter which had been gleaned from various sources)
were examined a second time when they were reversed as to
order of presentation to the reagent, that is, a pair was first
shown for the reagent's judgment upon each of the pictures
composing it, and immediately after the individual pictures com-
posing it were presented alone for judgment. In Table XVI.
are given the results where one picture of a pair was liked and
the other disliked, when both pictures were liked but one was
liked more than the other, where both pictures were disliked but
one was more disliked than the other, where both were equally
liked, and when both were equally disliked. Under these divis-
ions, the numbers under H signify the number of pictures in this
class which were better liked in case of liked pictures and more
disliked in case of disliked pictures when the pictures were ex-
amined together than when alone. L signifies less liked in case
of liked pictures and less disliked in case of disliked pictures
when the pictures were examined together than when alone.
The judgments are classes under = when they were the same
whether the pictures were examined together or alone. Some-
times the judgment on a picture of a pair was altered when the
pictures Comprising it were reversed as regards their position to
each other. In such cases the judgments were classed under ?.
If in both positions both the judgments on a picture were higher
or lower than the judgment when it was alone, they were

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS.

209

»O O «O

Tt O O Q
t^ O O 0

IO M 1^ t^ iO O

OO t^ -<t O

0 O 0\ O

O uo cO»OO «O

g « M rt

O «O »O ON M

O M M 10

a M

vO O

M »O ^t ON

M VO

M 0 W

N ON fO fOOO N

« vO

M M VO M M

B M IOM

W W ON w

to c«)*O

210 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

counted as one and classed under ? H or ? Z, but if one
judgment was higher and the other lower, or one was equal and
the other higher or lower than when the picture was alone, the
two were counted as one and put under ? = .

If Fechner's principle of aesthetic contrast is true, we should
expect to find in the above results : (i) That where a liked is
compared with a disliked picture the liked picture would be
better liked and the disliked more disliked than when alone ; (2)
that where a liked picture is compared with one less liked the
better liked picture would be still better liked and the less liked
still less liked ; (3) that where one picture is more disliked than
the other the more disliked picture would be still more disliked
and the one less disliked still less disliked, and (4) by inference,
that where pictures were equally liked respectively equally dis-
liked there would be no change as regards liking. On examin-
ing the table above we do not find this to be the case. We find
much more frequently that when a liked picture is examined with
a picture disliked or with one less liked, better liked or equally
liked, it is less liked than when alone ; (5) that when a disliked
picture is examined with a liked picture or with one less, more
disliked or equally disliked, it is more disliked than when alone.
In short, in general that a liked picture put with another picture
is less liked and a disliked put with another picture is more dis-
liked. The results given above for the six reagents may be
considered as typical in that they have been confirmed by tests
made with many other persons.

If we take into account the part played by attention as well
as by contrast, we are able to satisfactorily explain the above
data. Occasionally, doubtless, contrast acts as a restorative
from aesthetic fatigue, but when the aesthetic sentiment is acting
normally, it brings in mental and physical discordant elements
which more or less interferes with that peace and calmness which
characterizes aesthetic pleasure. The introspects of the reagents
(' Can't get the impression from two,' ' this trying to see two is
very irritating,' * don't see either as well,' ' don't feel as much
in either picture,' * when I get away from one picture I like the
other better,' « can't put other aside and it's disagreeable,' ' seems
dull and dead when my attention is not centered upon it,' etc.)

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. -' i 1

show as we should expect, that the distraction of the attention
which arises from putting two different pictures together for
examination also decreases aesthetic pleasure by interfering with
state of absorption which also marks it. On the other hand, for
the reasons just given, contrast favors aesthetic displeasure.
But the distraction of the attention arising from having to
examine two pictures simultaneously must act against dis-
pleasure in that the mind would be less concentrated on the dis-
agreeable features giving rise to this impression. The fact that
the difference between the higher and lower judgments in case
of the disliked pictures is much less than in the case of the liked
pictures confirms this opinion.

In discussing the above principle Fechner says : " Every
work gains when we compare it with a less complete work of
art of the same kind or class and loses when we compare it with
a more complete " ( V. d. A., II., 232). If by gains and losses
Fechner means that certain features in each work are brought
out more prominently by putting the two pictures together, his
statement is probably correct. The reagent says, for example,
that he notices the shape of each picture more, the great bright-
ness of the one as compared with the other, the difference in
tone, the dullness of one, the delicacy of the one, the strong
character in one, the emptiness of the face in the one, and the
character in that of the other, the finer drawing and the more
excellent design in 'the one, etc. Whatever may be the ultimate
effect on the judgment, of such perception of difference, in favor
of one picture, it is not at once, except in exceptional cases, as
possibly in case of J? in these experiments when liked and dis-
liked pictures were compared, translated into aesthetic pleasure.
One can readily conceive however that persons whose judgments
rest on matters of technique, who are interested in the way the
effects are produced, might immediately give a higher judgment
upon a picture when it was put with a picture which served to
draw attention to its good features. Indeed, in case of these
very reagents, especially 7?, I am sure from the introspections
that the judgments were sometimes given on the fact that through
the presence of another picture the reagent was made aware
that certain lines, etc., of a picture were especially fine, and

212 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

gave the higher judgment in accordance with this new knowl-
edge, but not because she really derived increased pleasure from
the picture. Judgments of this kind have an objective character,
they do not grow out of that constellation of ideas and feelings
of which we are all more or less conscious on looking at the
pictures which give us the greatest enjoyment and which we say
we * like very much.'

In discussing the principle, Fechner says : ' The two factors
must not be merely uncomparable, rather arises the contrast
effect more strongly in degree when the factors, aside from the
contrasting elements, are alike in so far as herewith a stronger
or more undisturbed psychical relation is produced between
them.' I doubt whether the increased assthetical pleasure which
sometimes arises under the above conditions, except in excep-
tional cases, should be explained by contrast. It should rather
be explained as a case of positive summation aesthetic effect, an
effect which has given rise to the law of repetition which has
been laid down in works on aesthetics by Soret1 and others.

The increased likeness between elements which are liked
gives for various reasons mentioned below, or because less strain
is made upon the attention, a heightened aesthetic effect. If the
common elements are disagreeable, or such as do not permit of
the heightening of effect through repetition, it would seem that
the aesthetic pleasure would be positively decreased by likenesses
in the two works. The results of the following experiments
show that the positive and negative effects just mentioned do
enter into aesthetic contemplation and doubtless accounts for
judgments which are not in harmony with what one would ex-
pect from the action of contrast and the varying degrees of the
concentration of attention.

Series XII. — Object: To ascertain -whether there is a
summation (esthetic efect in the simultaneous examination of
•pictures. In these experiments a picture was laid on the table
before the reagent for judgment. Immediately after the judg-
ment had been made, two pictures exactly like it were laid sym-
metrically before him and he was asked to say whether the two
pictures gave him more or less pleasure than one of the pictures
1 Soret, Des conditiones physiques de la perception du beau.

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS.

-'3

alone. Under I. in Table XVII. are given for the several re-
agents the number of liked ( + ), disliked (— ), and indifferent
(o) pictures better liked when alone, under II. the number of
such pictures better liked when the two liked pictures were shown
together, and under ? the number of such pictures where the
reagent could not decide whether he liked the picture better
alone or when with a like picture.

TABLE XVII.

—

M. W.

P
M

36
39

32
24

5
17

i
4

I
I

The aesthetic significance of repetition is proven in the above
table. The introspections show that the more important changes
of impression which arise from seeing two pictures together,
changes which may lead to a higher and a lower judgment than
when one picture was seen alone are the following : (i) The
more massive effect l — * the picture seems larger,' < more sea-
like/ * more meadow-like,' * wider sweep to whole/ ' more like
the woods,' * the two pictures blend into one, it seems one big
picture/ * the wrinkles seem more pronounced and the face
seems to have more expression with two pictures,' * the two pic-
tures form one and the figure in each seems like two different
people.' Naturally the subject, the mode of treatment, the
shape of the pictures, and the width of the margin separating
them, effect the forming of these unified combinations which
result in this more massive effect. One reagent said at the
close of the experiment that she had noticed that where there
were strong contrasts in the picture the putting of the two like
pictures together greatly increased the effect of brilliancy even
when the pictures did not fuse into one, another said that oval
pictures did not form one picture as did rectangular pictures, the

'Compare Dessoir, Die cesthetische Bedeutung des absoluten Quant urns, 23.

214 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

reagents also frequently said that if the margin was not there
the two pictures would make but one. (2) The increase in ap-
parent movement. This arises doubtless from the fact that the
eyes move over a larger field in examining the two pictures —
' scene seems more animated,' ' dramatic effect greater.' This
increase of apparent movement lowers the judgment occasion-
ally, but in general it raises it. It gives me, for example, a
greater impression of being buoyed up, carried along, and the
strength of this buoyant feeling is the criteria I employ in de-
ciding on my judgment as regards the degree of liking. (3)
The different attitude with respect to the pictures — * with two
pictures I feel a part of the picture but with one outside of it —
a looker-on, a critic,' 'two makes the scene more real,' 'two
make me feel really in the open air,' * I feel in the building with
two pictures, then it seems a real building, not the picture of a
building,' * the picture seems nearer with two.' (4) Where
there are two like pictures the whole composition, matters of
light and shade, tone, etc., are more closely observed than are
the details. Whether, then, we prefer one or the two pictures
depends of course upon which of these give us the greater
pleasure. One reagent, for example, preferred at first glance
two pictures but afterwards one, saying the details were more
prominent with one. Deficiencies of print were more often ob-
served with one picture. This difference in the seeing of wholes
and particulars doubtlessly explains why one may prefer two
pictures in the case of very much disliked pictures. (5) The
consciousness of the repetition is often agreeable, especially if
the person thinks of the two pictures as forming a frieze * when
repetition is rhythmic is especially pleasing.' (6) There are
slight changes growing out of the arising of illusions produced
by putting the two pictures together, which effects the liking.
The putting together, for example, of two like pictures repre-
senting the ' Basilica of St. Paul beyond the walls of Rome '
makes the two interiors seem to radiate from a common point
and the reagent feels himself standing at their point of intersec-
tion and looking down two long corridors. On account of this
illusion S feels drawn in two ways on looking at these two pic-
tures and so gives a higher judgment when he sees the picture

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 215

alone. On the other hand, Af. W. enjoys looking down the two
corridors and so gives a higher judgment when the two like
pictures are seen side by side. (7) The shape of the picture
sometimes seems to be altered in putting two pictures together.
If the picture is so narrow as to hold the eyes to too narrow a
field, the increased width gained by putting the two pictures
together results in raising the judgment, while, on the other
hand, the putting together of two wide pictures results in lower-
ing the judgment. (8) The picture gains in depth by having
two pictures side by side. This is due, possibly, to a tendency
to stereoscopic vision even when pictures are entirely alike.

The previous results have shown that one picture does not
give the intensity of expression that may be obtained often by
putting two pictures together. This increased impression often
arises from the fact that the two pictures fuse into one and give
the impression of an enlarged picture. In case different pic-
tures are put together, this possibility would without doubt often
be much greater when the pictures had a given position with
respect to each other than when they were reversed as regards
position. This explains, doubtless, the reason for some of the
judgments which fall under (?) in Table XVI. There is an-
other factor to be considered, which, without doubt, gives rise
to some of the judgments classed under this head. That is,
that a picture may be in the most favorable positio.i to give
pleasure as regards its position to another picture, but yet may
not be in the most favorable position as regards the reagent's
right and left. The following experiments prove what one
would expect from seeing people take up pictures and try them
alternately right and left of the median plane before selecting a
permanent position in which to examine them, that is, that there
is a * space error,' a « space difference ' which ought to be com-
pensated if possible in making experiments in aesthetics.1

Series XIII. Object: To ascertain the as the tic effect of the
position of a picture as regards the reagent's right and left.
Two like pictures were laid before the reagent, and he was
asked if he liked them equally. If not, he was told to point

1 Martin, Psychology of ^Esthetics, I., ' Experimental Prospecting in the
Field of the Comic,' loc. cit. 54.

2l6

LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

out the picture better liked. The pictures were then reversed
and afterwards tried in different lights in order to exclude dif-
ferences growing out of unlikenesses in the prints themselves
or in their illumination. If the picture at the right resp. at the
left was invariably preferred under the different conditions -just
mentioned it was counted in Table XVIII. and the R and L
where the sum of the whole number of pictures preferred at
right and left are given, in case of liked (+), disliked (— ) and
indifferent (?) pictures. If a picture was preferred at the right
under one set of conditions, that is, when reversed in position or
seen with the light falling from a different direction, and at the
left under another it was counted under (=).

TABLE XVIII.

—

R
M. W.

34
9

I
2

39
69

P
M

15
9

4
6

3
19

The above table shows that in general H prefers the pictures
at the left, and many tests show that I also prefer them in this
position, that M. W. is indifferent, and that the other reagents
prefer them at the right.

Dr. W. F. Snow, of Stanford University, has kindly made
an examination of the eyes of the above reagents. A mydriatic
was not used but in every instance a thorough subjective exami-
nation checked by the ophthalmoscope, ophthalmometer and
various rod and prism tests were made. The results do not
show any striking resemblances in the structure or activity of the
eyes of the students who have the similar general preferences
just mentioned. One can conceive that these general prefer-
ences may be traced indirectly to physiological causes in that,
for example, the lesser distinctness and differentiation of a pic-
ture on one side of a reagent, growing out of the differences in
his eyes, may be more agreeable to him while another reagent

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 217

under exactly the same physiological conditions might prefer
the more distinct and differentiated picture. The following in-
trospections are given because they show some of the psycho-
logical factors that determined the preferences of the reagents :

* the part of the picture I like best is more in sight in the right
picture ' (nearer the centre of vision), ' like picture at right be-
cause figure is looking at me ' or * coming toward me,' * figure
in left picture seems moving away,' * the cow is nearly out of
sight in the left picture,' * picture at right seems subordinate,'

* picture at left seems nearer,' * picture at right stands out more
in a relief, other is flat and receding,' « picture at the right not
as distinct,' * face in left picture looks sullen,' * more gracious,'

* feel less sympathy with other picture,' ' have more tender feel-
ing towards figure in right picture,' « the lines go off at different
angles in the two pictures,' * the curve of the face is rounder in
the profile of the right picture,' * I (S) see more of the right pic-
ture than of the left,' ' the picture at the right does not seem as
nearly in front of me (H}.

2. " The Principle of Esthetic Sequence: — If greater
pleasure -precedes, and smaller pleasure or even displeasure fol-
lows after, then a decrease of the second pleasure or a strengthen-
ing of the displeasure will occur through the contrast with the first
greater pleasure; if the sequence is reversed then the first smaller
pleasure or the first displeasure will occur tinstrengthened, the
second greater pleasure is however strengthened through the con-
trast" (V. d. A., 235).

This principle, as we should expect in view of the results of
the previous experiments, does not hold good when tested except
partially in case of 7?. When the better liked picture comes
last Psays he does not like it as well, H says there is a moment
after the removal of the less liked picture when the better liked
picture is less liked; M says she feels relieved and glad when
less liked picture is gone but the better liked picture itself is not
better liked, M. W. says that when a very much disliked picture is
seen before one very much liked she cannot forget the ugly pic-
ture, it seems to spread itself over the good, to be superimposed
upon it.

Fechner also makes another statement in discussing this

2l8 LILLIEN J. MARTIN.

principle which I am inclined to question. It is that * in suc-
cessive impressions the contrast effect can express itself merely
in connection with the second.' I have noticed from the re-
marks of the reagents, particularly in case of ugly pictures,
that when the ugly picture is seen first its ugliness does not
seem the same when it is recalled. It seems often very much
uglier than it seemed at first.

In the discussion of the principles Fechner says : "In the
direction of advance from smaller to greater pleasure or from
greater to less displeasure (positive) the sum total of the pleas-
ure is greater or of displeasure is less than in the opposite direction "
( V. d. A., II., 234). All the tests corroborate this statement,
one has but to apply the laws of memory to explain the fact,
no principle contrast is needed. The last picture seen is the
one that dominates the impression. If that picture gives pleas-
ure resp. displeasure there is a tendency to find the whole im-
pression pleasurable resp, displeasurable.

(3) Principle of ^Esthetic Compensation: " The collective
cases -where a cause of displeasure is compensated or overcome
as regards aesthetic effect through a following or imagined as
following^ at the same time contrasting, cause of pleasure, we
designate, in order to have a short general expression, under
the expression (esthetic compensation " ( V. d. A., II., 238).
One of the most effective aesthetic aids is to so arrange the sources
of displeasure in relation to the sources of pleasure that the
principle of (Esthetic compensation enters into play and makes
the collective result of the impression pleasurable^ V. d. A., II.,

238).

V. THE PRINCIPLE OF THE EXPRESSION OF PLEASURE AND
DISPLEASURE.

6 In general man is so constituted that the mood of his envi-
ronment is transmitted to him ' ( V. d. A., II., 254).

Fechner does not employ the term suggestion in connection
with this principle but in the light of our present knowledge it
is a statement, although a very incomplete one, of the aesthetic
significance of this influence. The preliminary experiments
made with a view to testing this law have opened up so many

FECHNER'S PRINCIPLES OF AESTHETICS. 219

different lines of work that it has seemed best to reserve the re-
sults until a more special study has been made of this subjivt.
The possibility and the desirability of increasing aesthetic ap-
preciation through the use of suggestion give experiments along
the line of this law a practical importance that they do not have
along the lines of Fechner's other laws.

220 A NNO UNCEMENT.

ANNOUNCEMENT.

We have been informed that the common cover of our various
issues causes some confusion and difficulty in shelving and using
them. We have accordingly adopted a scheme of different
colors for the covers of our publications. Hereafter the Index
will appear in dark brown, the Monograph Supplements in light
gray-brown, and the Bulletin as heretofore in white. The
REVIEW proper will retain the blue imported carbon cover which
has always given its appearance a certain distinction. — ED.

N. S. VOL. XIII. No. 4. July, 1906.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST (I).

BY FELIX ARNOLD,
New York.

In psychology interest seems to be, in certain respects, like
charity, and in pedagogy, too, ' in never faileth.' What makes
it useless, however, in many discussions, is the loose and varied
manner in which the subject is treated. Whether the discussion
is dealing with instincts, impulses, feelings, attention, will, the
term interest seems broad enough to cover them all. In peda-
gogy we have the most beautiful examples of argument in a
circle due to similar misconceptions of the situation which has in
it interest. " Get attention by making things interesting." So
at least we are told. And what is interest? Why, attention;
and the formula now resolves itself into the tautology, ' Get at-
tention by making the children attentive.' Or we are told to get
the interest in children and a little later this apparently simple
process is brought about by making things interesting. Simi-
larly the directions to rouse interest by appealing to the child's
curiosity, and the like, mean little more than synonymic substi-
tutions. Rather than throw about these various interpretations
in scholastic fashion, which would lead to little more than a de-
velopment of concepts, or academic definition, I have thought
it better to attack the subject de novo, examining the leading
theories on the subject, and then giving in schematic form the
facts in the case as they exist in foundation situations. For
this purpose I shall treat interest in its connection with feeling
and attention, and then shall consider interest itself in its cona-
tive and cognitive aspects.

221

222 FELIX ARNOLD.

In treating of the different contributions made by the various
writers to the psychology of interest, it seems proper to begin
with Herbart. But at this point a difficulty at once arises. Do
we not all know Herbart's theory of interest? Is it not a com-
monplace among young pedagogical students and is it not
shouted from the housetops of learning, as it were? I venture,
however, to assert that many who shout loudest for or against
Herbart do not fully understand his theory in this connection.
Some critics of his system simply pull down a straw man which
either they themselves have made, or have found ready-made
for that purpose. Herbart's theory, we may say, schivebt oben
in der Luft, but in the schweben its real outlines have become
rather indistinct. It seems to me not too much to say that many
of the present articles and discussions dealing with Herbart are
based on the theories of so-called Herbartian writers, or upon
the general opinion of the writers themselves as to what Her-
bart meant.

Before presenting Herbart's theory of interest as he himself
has given it, it may be well to show some of the false concep-
tions which are prevalent. James tells us that * the Herbartian
doctrine of interest ought not ... in principle to be reproached
with making pedagogy soft. ' l Dewey's 2 Monograph on In-
terest is mentioned by De Garmo 3 as ' reconciling interest and
•effort.' We are also informed ' that the current theory inherited
from Herbart, and by him from Rousseau, that everything
should be made to depend upon interest, that there should be
no must in education, seems to the author (J. P. Gordy) thor-
oughly pernicious.'4 These are samples of the common opin-
ion. Others are satisfied to stalk about and loudly to proclaim
themselves * Herbartians ' because they believe in interest, and
this ' interest ' is usually a cheap kind of sensationalism or feel-
ing, which, of course, must be reconciled with effort, which
gives rise to * soft pedagogy,' and which, perhaps, may have

1 Talks to Teachers, 1899, p. HI.

2 Second Supplement to the Herbart Yearbook, 1895, revised, 1903.

3 Outlines of Educational Doctrine, 1901, p. 46.

4 A Broader Elementary Education, 1903, preface.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST.

been inherited from Rousseau; but which, none the less, is not
Herbart.

What then is Herbart's theory? The best explanation of the
Herbartian psychology, according to Stout, is to be found in Her-
bart's own Psychologic ; and the best exposition of his educational
tenets is to be found in his educational writings, and not in the
writings of those who explain Herbart according to their own
views. Strange to say, Herbart's treatises on psychology deal
almost entirely with apperception, without any corresponding
treatment of interest. Neither in his Psychologic als Wisscnschuft
nor in his Lehrbuch do we find any account. In the latter book
we meet with the statement, * " Observation and expectation, as
the two stages of interest, also belong to the basic concepts of
universal pedagogy." This is followed by a statement in pa-
renthesis referring the reader to the Pddagogik for a fuller ex-
position. This reference, by the way, is omitted by Miss Smith
in her translation of the Lehrbuch. In the Science of Educa-
tion? which contains the fuller discussion of interest referred
to, we find interest thus defined : " Interest, which in common
with desire, will, and the aesthetic judgment, stands opposed to
indifference, is distinguished from these three, in that it neither
controls nor disposed of its object, but depends upon it. It is
true that we are inwardly active because we are interested, but
externally we are passive till the interest passes into desire or
volition. It occupies the mean between observation and attain-
ment."1 Interest is thus, according to Herbart, a feeling which
passes or which may pass into desire. Herbart, after this ex-
planation of the term, then skips rapidly on to his seemingly
more congenial discussion of the apperceptive systems which
give rise to interest, the so-called many-sided interests, viz. :
(i) empirical, speculative, aesthetic; (2) sympathetic, social, re-
ligious.

It is at this point that misinterpretation creeps in. The
interests are not these systems of ideas, nor are the systems of

1 Works, V., Hartenstein's edition, 1886, p. 148.

2 Translation by H. M. and E. Felkin. This translation is the one to which
I shall refer.

9 Science of Education , p. 129.

224 FELIX ARNOLD.

ideas necessarily the result of interest. Rather, interest results
from the risings and sinkings of the ideas and systems of ideas.
"Interest depends upon concepts, on their opposition and inter-
connection, on their mode of comprehending various aspects,
without being confused with these. . . . Interest attaches
itself to the thing, to relationships, not to number or mass."'
This would make interest, for example, in speculation, result
from an interaction of the ideas in the ' speculative ' group on
some others, and similarly with the rest. According to the
Herbartian view, the six-groups, wrongly called * interests,'
are rather apperceptive systems, interest-producing groups. I
venture to state that Herbart himself, engrossed in his theory of
apperception, introduced interest merely as a pedagogical com-
monplace, and did not see fully its relation to the apperceptive
systems. This is a rather strong statement, but I do not find
anything either in his Psychologic or in his Lehrbuch, or even
in his pedagogical writings, to justify any other opinion. Her-
bart is considered the champion of interest in education because
of the so-called six interests. Robbed of all apperceptive ter-
minology, Herbart's interest is simply an Herbartian * feeling ' ;
and whether the ideas giving rise to the interest are grouped
into six classes or not, makes no difference. The interest
remains a feeling. It is curious to note that Wundt, who like
Herbart, has, in his three bulky volumes, developed the subject
of apperception, has also, like Herbart, neglected interest as a
psychological topic. Remembering Herbart's real exposition
(what there is of it) of interest, one can easily see that there is
no contradiction between Herbart's psychology and his peda-
gogy. The Herbartian interest is not a bit of sensationalism to
rouse an apperceptive mass. Sensation or pleasure-pain feel-
ing, as we understand it, would be a Vorstellung in the Her-
bartian sense. Interest is the result of the interaction of a num-
ber of ideas or systems of ideas, which persist and remain. To
rouse and to develop such ideas and systems of ideas, we do
not of necessity need interest. Strength of impression, fresh-
ness of susceptibility, degree of opposition present, economy of
receptivity, etc., are necessary to rouse and develop the systems
2 Science of 'Education, p. 134.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 22$

of ideas, and not interest.3 In teaching, therefore, we must
work from within outwards, and not from without inwards, if we
are to rouse interest. We present things which will excite the
apperceiving masses to get interest, and vivid impressions, etc.,
to develop the apperceiving groups. In the interaction of the
various ideas on one another, interest arises ; the interest does
not first cause the apperceiving groups to act. Interest as feel-
ing in the usual sense will give rise to a contradiction of Her-
bart's system ; but not feeling in the Herbartian sense.

Another point to be emphasized is that Herbart does not say
we must depend upon interest in instruction at all times. The
groups guaranteeing the interest, and resulting in further inter-
ests, may be built up by other means, but when they are there,
we are sure of interest. The formation of such interest-pro-
ducing groups is the be-all and end-all of education. And in
this process we need not sugar-coat everything, as the usual
interpretation of Herbart would have us believe. We need go
but to Herbart himself to show this. I think it advisable, there-
fore, to give a number of quotations enforcing the view that we
should not necessarily pursue soft methods in instruction, and
showing that the Herbartian methods are 'soft' only in the
minds of those who think so. As regards the government and
discipline of children we have the following : " At first, instead
of a true will, which renders the child capable of determina-
tion, there is only a wild impetuosity, impelling it hither and
thither, a principle of disorder, disturbing the plans of the adults,
and placing the future personality of the child itself in mani-
fold dangers. This impetuosity must be subdued, or the dis-
orderly character will be put down as the fault of the child'l
guardians." "The first measure that all government has to
take is the threat of punishment, and in its use all government
runs the danger of striking on one of two rocks : on the one
side there are strong natures who despise all threats ; ... on
the other there are natures . . . who are too weak to be im-
pressed by threats. . . . This twofold uncertainty of the result
cannot be avoided." Finally: "Threats, in case of need en-

3 Lehrbuch, p. 148, and Outlines of Educational Doctrine, Ch. IV. (trans,
by de Garmo).

226 FELIX ARNOLD.

forced by compulsion, supervision by persons who are gener-
ally cognizant of the dangers to which children are liable —
authority and love combined — these powers will pretty easily
obtain a certain degree of ascendancy over children." This is
hardly as wishy-washy as usually represented. Finally, for
the Rousseau heresy, we have : " What most distinctively raises
him (Herr Niemeyer) above foreigners and entitles us to think
with pride of our nationality, is in my eyes the definite moral
tendency of his principles, whereas in the principles of Locke
and Rousseau crude impulse holds sway, and, barely mitigated
by a highly unstable moral feeling, leads to a superficial sensu-
ous life."1

I shall now touch briefly on Volkmann's treatment of interest,
and then shall take up Dewey's discussion. In Volkmann we find
one or two significant statements and this is all that it is neces-
sary to give. " Since we are accustomed to consider interest
as the relation of an idea to the predominant ideation masses of
the self (only that interests me by which I can say I am present),
so we may consider this expression in the following tautological
formulation — We are attentive to everything which interests
us." " Where interest is lacking, attention, too, is lacking;
where the former is weak, the latter also is weak." As a
modern object of instruction, " Instruct in such a manner that
an interest is roused which will continue for life."2

Volkmann may be considered the last of the orthodox Her-
bartians, and he adds nothing of importance to the Herbartian
doctrine of interest. It is of interest to note that Wundt, who
still shows traces of Herbartian influence, has caught the real
significance of Herbart's theory. He neglects interest entirely,
and develops along more modern lines the theory of appercep-
tion. So too, in England, Stout, who shows the influence of
Herbart along certain lines, gives a full treatment of appercep-
tion and apperceptive systems, but omits entirely in the chapter
concerned any mention of interest. His own theory of interest
is an entirely separate development, and shows rather the in-
fluence of Mill and Stumpf .

1 Science '-of 'Education, pp. 95, 97, 102, 251.
*Lehrbuch der Psycho logie, II., 1895, pp. 206, 207.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 13}

Dewey's account has usually been supposed to expound
further, in some manner, Herbart's doctrine of interest, to recon-
cile the latter theory of interest with the modern theory of effort,
and so on. But it may safely be said that the only sense in
which Dewey's theory of interest, as such, is Herbartian, is in
that of being published in a Supplement to the Herbart Tear-
book. Dewey is too original a man tamely to follow the usual
treatment and end with the excellent though well-worn division
of the various interests into empirical, speculative, aesthetic,
sympathetic, social and religious. His entire theory is founded
on his own principle of activity which forms the basis of most
of his psychological and philosophical discussions. Only in
the definition of interest as * consciousness of worth ' have we a
slight tinge of Herbartian influence. The sections in Dewey's
paper dealing with Kant and Herbart, with interest and educa-
tion, etc., are outside the theory of interest proper which forms
the second section of his monograph, Interest as Related to
Will. Since the monograph is connected with Herbart in cur-
rent discussion, I add it to the views of Herbart above presented.

16 Interest is first active, projective, or repulsive. We take
interest. To be interested in any matter is to be actually con-
cerned with it. The mere feeling regarding a subject may be
static or inert, but interest is dynamic. Second it is objective.
We say a man has many interests to care for or look after.
We talk about the range of a man's interests, his business in-
terests, local interests, etc. We identify interests with concerns
, or affairs. Interest does not end simply in itself, as bare feel-
ings may, but always has some object, end, or aim to which it
attaches itself. Third, interest is subjective ; it signifies an in-
ternal realization or feeling of worth. It has its emotional as
well as its active and objective sides. Wherever there is in-
terest, there is response in the way of feeling."1 Interest may
be mediate or immediate. In the latter case the activity exists
as an end in itself and constitutes the interest, c. g.y play.
Where, however, we have a transference of the interest in an
end to some means leading to the end, the interest in the means
is a mediate one. The closer the connection between the means

1 Second Supplement to the Herbart Yearbook, 1895, revised 1903, p. 13.

228 FELIX ARNOLD.

and the end, the nearer is the mediate to the immediate interest.
Where the means and end are disparate we have effort and
drudgery. " Genuine interest ... is the accompaniment of
Ahe identification, through action, of the self with some object or
Jidea, because of the necessity of that object or idea for the main-
ytenance of self-expression. Effort in the sense in which it may be
opposed to interest, implies a separation between the self and the
fact to be mastered or task to be performed, and sets up an habitual
division of activities. Externally, we have mechanical habits
with no psychical end or value. Internally, we have random
energy or mind-wandering, a sequence of ideas with no end at
all, because not brought to a focus in action. Interest in the
sense in which it is opposed to effort, means simply an excita-
tion of the sense organ to give pleasure, resulting in strain on
one side, and listlessness on the other."1

We may summarize the above views in the following sche-
matic form :

Herbart

Interest — Feeling (Herbartian)

Dewey

Interest

Active — Teleological — -Emotional

II.

I shall now examine the more recent discussions on the sub-
ject, some of which have been storm centers in the literature of
psychology. Prominent among those who have forced their
theories to the front stands Stumpf with his identification of in-
terest, attention and feeling. Due to his influence, the question
of the concomitance of interest with attention has been more
closely examined, while some psychologists seem to have been
led astray by their interpretation of Stumpf 's ' feeling.' We
must examine the theory of Stumpf to some extent to see exactly
what he means and not rest satisfied with placing all our faith in
his much-quoted sentence, " Attention is identical with interest,
and interest is a feeling. That is all there is to it."2 Alone,

1 Second Supplement to the Herbart Yearbook, p. 12.

2 Tonpsychologie, 1883, p. 68.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 229

this sentence gives a learned flavor to a discussion on interest,
and interpreted in the usual English manner, leads one to believe
Stumpf held a theory which he by no means favored. Pur-
suing the subject further in his Tonfsychologie, we find that
this interest or attention may be roused by intense or agreeable
impressions, or by an impression exciting an image which \vas
of interest on a previous occasion. The strongest stimulus to
attention or interest, however, is that which forms the basis of
a volition. In such a case the will is not directed upon the at-
tention, but upon some cognitive process, which is based upon
an ideational content, and which in turn may become the foun-
dation of a volition. To use Stumpf's words, " The will, there-
fore, does not produce attention, but it is attention."* This
makes interest, not only a feeling, but also will. If this is so,
then Stumpf s * feeling ' must likewise be a form of will. This
gives us some suggestion of his further treatment of interest.

As Stumpf explains in the second volume of his Tonpsychol-
ogie, his identification of interest with attention caused some
criticism, and to meet this he modified his former statements
somewhat and gave a more explicit treatment of the subject.
As he explains, interest as a term cannot always be substituted
for attention when the subject of attention or interest is taken
up. But, after making such changes as the language, the
context, and the signification of the terms in their contexts de-
mand, we may substitute one term for the other. Thus interest
is not * identical * in the logical sense, but rather * synonymous'
with the expression * attention-exciting.' In addition, Stumpf
further expounds his theory, and we get such a treatment of
* interest as attention and as feeling ' as throws sufficient light
on the subject to clear any doubts possibly caused by the first
seemingly contradictory statements. To examine the character-
istics of attention, Stumpf considers it necessary to see what are
the characteristics of feeling in general, and then to determine
what kind of a * feeling ' attention or interest is. Every feeling,
according to Stumpf, is one either of * Lust ' or of ' UnlustJ of
pleasure or of pain, of appetition or aversion, *. £., it is either
positive or negative. Attention or interest belongs to the positive

3 Tonpsychologie, I., p. 69.

330 FELIX ARNOLD.

class. It is an interest, a participation-in, a turning-towards some-
thing. But the content itself, towards which we are attracted
may be agreeable or disagreeable ; it matters not which it is.
The appetition is not determined by the content as pleasure-pain.
"It is rather nothing more than the desire to notice as such,
which naturally does not exclude those cases in which an im-
pression, associated with some desire, also excites a desire to
observe, discriminate, compare."1 So, too, interest, * when it
is used as synonymous with attention,'2 ('identical' now be-
comes ' synonymous ') means not the desire for the agreeable
content, -per se, but rather the desire to know of such con-
tent. For example, a critic may be neither attracted nor re-
pelled by an article and still be interested in it. "The article
may not have been pleasing to him ; but as a matter of fact he
may have been pleased to know of it."3 To this Kohn rather
aptly remarks "The critic hates the article, by no means does
he desire * to know of it,' perhaps prefers to take a sleep. The
noticing in and of itself is a burden to him. That there is no
desire for it therefore, as such, goes without saying." 4 This,
however, is by the way.

According to Stumpf , interest is a 4 Lust am Bemerken.
More fully, finally, to define the character of this * Lust? it is
necessary to turn to Stumpf's discussion of voluntary attention.

1 Tonpsychologie^ 1890, II., pp. 279-280.

2 1 translate ' Lust am Bemerken' as the 'desire to observe or to notice,'
and not as a ' feeling of pleasure in observing. ' We must take Stumpf in his
entire discussion, and not in isolation, before we can determine what he means.
In addition to the above, which gives some idea of his meaning, the following
may help to throw some light on his meaning of ' Lust.' He says, " Die Auf-
merksamkeit gehort zweifellos zu den positiven. SiE IST EINE TEII/NAHME,
EIN INTERESSE, EINE HINWENDUNG zu ETWAS. Aber der Inhalt selbst, auf
den wir merken, kann ein schmerzlicher, hdsslicher^ verabschauungswiirdiger
sein. Also ist Aufmerksamkeit nicht ein Lustgefiihl, das der Eindruck, auf
den wir merken, als solchermit sichftihrt. Sie ist vielmehr, wie mir scheint,
nichts anderes als die Lust am Bemerken selbst." Tonpsychologie, II., pp. 279-
280. Stumpf's analysis is one of the keenest, but his terminology in this con-
nection seems rather loose. Does he acknowledge this in his expression, "/»
terminis libertas, in notionibus unitas. But still better of course, In terminis
unitas, also " ? II., p. 286. (Small caps are mine.)

3 Tonpsychologie, II., p. 281.

4 ' Zur Theorie der Aufmerksamkeit.' Abhandlungen ztir Philosophie und
ihrer Geschichte^ 1895, p. 32.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. - ^ '

Here we are told that "it is nothing other than the will, in so
far as it is directed towards an observing. Every feeling of
desire which is directed towards an object can pass into a voli-
tion as soon as the object seems probable or attainable." ! Com-
pleting now our Stumpfian equation, we have,

Interest = Attention = Feeling = Desire = Will,

that is, interest is a feeling of desire which may become an act
of volition. It seems, therefore, safe to say that Stumpf in no
way identifies interest with feeling as it is usually understood.

A very similar treatment of interest to that of Stumpf is
given by Mill and his co-workers in psychology.2 James has
said that the association school has overlooked the problem of
attention because it might interfere with the * smoothness of the
tale.' Locke, however, is the first English writer to define
attention,3 and in Mill's Analysts we find the first account of
attention in which interest and attention are identified. In the
Analysis, to quote rather fully, we find the following — "A
pleasurable or painful sensation is said to fix the attention of the
mind. . . . Having a pleasurable or painful sensation, and
attending to it, seem not to be two things, but one and the same
thing. The feeling a pain is attending to it ; and the attending
to it is feeling it. The feeling is not one thing, the attention
another; the feeling and the attention are the same thing."1
Where we have a number of ideas or feelings, the stronger may
swallow up the weaker. "That the feebler sensation merges
itself in the stronger, and is lost in it is matter of common and
obvious experience."1 Attention to a so-called indifferent
object is present when this indifferent object is a means to
something more pleasurable. The pleasurable idea is asso-
ciated with it. "The state of consciousness is not an in-
different sensation merely ; it is a sensation and an idea in
union."1 Further characterizing attention, J. S. Mill adds
in a note, "The essence of attention is that the sensation
or thought is, as it were, magnified or strengthened ; it becomes
more intense as a whole, and at the same time more distinct and

1 Tonpsychologie, II., p. 283.

2 Principles of Psychology, I., p. 402.

8 Essay, 1690, Bk. II., ch. XIX., \ I., Vol. I., p. 299, Fraser's edition (1894).

232 FELIX ARNOLD.

definite in its various parts like a visible object when a stronger
light is thrown upon it." Objecting to his father's statement
that attention is simply the highly pleasurable or painful quality
of the sensation, either directly or by association, he adds that
in addition such sensation tends, first, to exclude all other sen-
sations from consciousness, and second, to persist in conscious-
ness.1

Another name of this pleasurable or painful quality of the.
sensation or idea is, according to Mill, its interest. Mill is con-
stantly using ' pleasurable ' and ' interesting ' indifferently.
Thus in defining an end which is desired he says : " The end
is thus a pleasurable, that is, an interesting idea." 2 And such
interest is the same as attention, which again makes interest a
feeling. " As the having an interesting sensation, and the at-
tending to it are but two names for the same thing ; the having
a sensation rendered interesting by association and the attend-
ing to it cannot be regarded as two different things. In the
first case attention is merely a sensation of a particular kind :
in the second it is merely an association of a particular kind." :
Again — " When the young man in love has the idea of the
woman who is the object of his affections, is not attention
merely another word for the peculiar nature of the idea? In
like manner, in the mind of the man who is to be executed to-
morrow, the idea of the terrible event before him is an idea in
the very essence of which attention is involved. Attention is
but another name for the interesting character of the idea. . . .
It remains to expound the case in which an indifferent idea be-
comes interesting by association. It cannot do so in any other
way than those in which it appeared that an indifferent sensa-
tion becomes interesting. It may be considered as the cause or
the sign of some interesting state of consciousness. When
that which is interesting becomes associated with that which is
uninteresting so as to form one compound state of conscious-
ness the whole is interesting. An idea, in itself indifferent,
associated with interesting ideas, becomes part of a new com-
pound which, as a whole, is interesting ; and an interesting idea

1 Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind, 1869, II., pp. 363, 364,
and notes 75, I., p. 230, and 66, II., p. 272.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 233

existing and an interesting idea attended to are only two names
for the same thing." l It might be well here to remark that the
account of interest given by James - in his Talks could have
been taken bodily from Mill, so similar are the two theories.

Mill does not give any special treatment of attention and in-
terest, but touches on them in his discussions of feeling, motive,
will and the like. From the whole we may summarize his
views as follows :

Pleasure-pain quality of the sensation or idea
Attention (direct or by association) = interest (direct or by association)

Similar in some respects to the theory of Stumpf, but more
closely in accordance with the facts, is the account of interest
given by Baldwin in his Feeling and Will? " Objects are in-
teresting," according to his view, "only as they affect us or
are associated with objects that affect us. And by the phrase
* affect us,' we mean — work some change in the sensibility,
which tends, by the law of motor reaction, to realize itself in
activity. . . . Now, such affective modifications may come in
two ways. The two great stimuli to activity are pleasure and
pain on the one hand, and suggestion on the other. Sugges-
tion is passing, shifting, temporary ; the interest it arouses is
intellectual, temporary interest. . . . The common element,
further, is an impulsive element — a tendency element — real-
izing its object through attention, which is the vehicle of apper-
ception. Accordingly . . . we may define interest as the im-
pulse to attend." Applying his two great laws of habit and
accommodation Baldwin finds as the intellectual conditions of in-
terest, first, that * intellectual repetition diminishes interest,' sec-
ond, that new relations involving higher integrations, rouse the
interest of curiosity, of exploration and discrimination. And on
the emotional and active side we have as determinants of inter-
est, first, reference to the self in the form of pleasure-pain, the
interest being something over and above the feeling of pleasure-
pain. "It arises in connection with the apprehending of the
tone and its causes. We would hardly say that an oyster is in-

1 Analysis, II., pp. 361, 367, 368, 369.

2 Talks to Teachers, Ch. X.

3 Chap. VII., on ' Interest, Reality and Belief.'

234 FELIX ARNOLD.

terested when a sharp instrument is thrust painfully between his
shells. The intrusion affects him, and it is in his interest to
avoid it ; but it is truer to say that it hurts than that it interests
him." l Second, the effort expended on a thing gives it addi-
tional worth and so conditions our interest in it. In general,
interest is the feeling of an impulse to attend to an object ; it
has a future or prospective reference and is renewed by new
impulses, new apperceptive activity. This will give us sche-
matically,

Interest = Ideal feeling = Impulse to attend

Of other writers, Sully touches upon the question of interest,
but he adds little to what is given in Mill. In fact, both Mill
and Stumpf seem to run through the account given by Sully.
He tells us, " When it is said that we attend to what interests
us it is meant that we attend when our feelings are touched ;
that is, to objects or ideas which directly or indirectly excite
feeling. We may thus be said to be interested when we expe-
rience a sense feeling, and our attention is determined to the
object, or to the action that excites this." : He also emphasizes
the necessity of investigating the relation of interest to attention,
quoting Stumpf to this effect : " Stumpf goes so far as to write,
* attention is identical with interest and interest is a feeling/"
Sully hints at what interest might be, but he does not definitely
tell us what it is. We are interested when our feelings are
touched, but what is interest? Is it a feeling, or is it caused by
such feeling? At any rate I shall hazard this equation as based

on his account :

Interest = Feeling (?)

Attention.

More explicitly, Stout has given his views on the subject,
and in his rather long discussion we again see attention and in-
terest treated together. Stout considers it undeniable "that
attention and interest, disagreeable or agreeable, are coincident.
We cannot be feeling an interest in an object without attending

1 Handbook of Psychology, Feeling and Will, 1891, pp. 139-146, and Ch.
VII.

2 The Human Mind, 1892, I., p. 163, and Note i, p. 163.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 235

to it, and we cannot be attending to it without feeling some in-
terest in it. Where the interest is very slight and transient,
tention is also slight and transient and vice versa. But the two
always go together. There is, however, a fallacy in the ordi-
nary doctrine of their connection. The assumption that atten-
tion depends on pleasure-pain seems to have no sufficient basis.
The relation is not one of cause and effect. The coincidence
is simply due to the fact that interest as felt at any moment is
nothing but attention itself, considered in its hedonic aspect.
. . . Stumpf , indeed, goes too far when he says « attention is
identical with interest ' ; but the distinction between them is
simply that the word interest carries with it a reference to some-
thing else as well as to attention as a mode of mental activity ;
this something else is the pleasure-pain tone of the attention
process."1

As with Stumpf, so with Stout, we must be careful in inter-
preting what he means by attention and its hedonic aspect. It
seems that in his rather violent effort to break away from the
passive pleasure-pain theory of Mill, he has turned completely
round and denied it altogether. Everything with Stout is cona-
tion and activity in this connection, and one needs but to skip
through his book to verify this. For example he says :
" There can be no such thing as purely passive consciousness.
This means (i) that a total psychosis or state of mind can never
be a state of complete inaction ; (2) that no special content of
consciousness entering into the composition of a total psychosis
can exist apart from its relation to mental activity."1 To make
doubly sure that he is not misunderstood, Stout further s
"The process of consciousness is, as such, a felt process";*
/'. £., we know that consciousness is active not only through re-
flection, but we also feel its activity during its existing moments.
Attention is therefore mental activity, a cbnative tendency, a
striving towards an end, and felt as active, while the concom-
itant feeling of pleasure-pain is due to the furthering or thwart-
ing of our practical aims. "The pleasant or painful feelings
involved, as springing out of the furtherance or thwarting of our

1 Analytic Psychology, 1896, I., pp. 224-225, and also Ch. III. of Bk. II.

236 FELIX ARNOLD.

practical aims, is coincident with the apprehension of the object
and its significance for us."1

In his Manual Stout gives a similar theory of interest.
Conative continuity and continuity of interest are considered as
the same. "It is clear, then," he writes, "that continuity of
interest is more or less independent of direct proximity in time.
This kind of continuity is essentially connected with mental ac-
tivity in the strict sense, with the striving, conative, appetitive
side of our nature. Its general condition is that the successive
phases of a conscious process shall constitute a movement
towards an end-state or terminus."2 In almost every mention
of * conation/ Stout uses the term of ' interest' as synonymous.
His idea of the matter may be represented as follows, portion of
the diagram being taken from his Groundwork : 2

Conation
\

Interest

Felt-attitude (Pleasure-pain)

Attention

The concomitance of interest with attention is also empha-
sized by Titchener who says, " When we say an ' interesting '
thing catches the attention we are really speaking tautologic-
ally. A thing is « interesting ' when it is « a thing to be attended
to.' It is not that the pleasantness or unpleasantness comes
first, and that we then attend to the impression ; the two parts
of our experience, the affective and the attentive, are simul-
taneous. In popular parlance, we attend because the thing is
interesting ; in psychological language the interest and the
attention are two sides of the same experience.3 According to
Titchener, therefore, we have the following :

Attention Interest

// ^

State — Feeling

Among the other psychologists we do not find so full an ac-
count of interest* given, though the subject is more or less fully
touched upon. James tells us that consciousness "is always

1 Analytic Psychology \ I., pp. 166, 168, 225.

2 Manual of Psychology, second edition, 1901, p. 81, and Groundwork of
Psychology, 1903, p. 19.

3 Outline of Psychology, 1901, p. 143.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 237

interested more in one part of its object than in another";1 that
"interest alone gives shade, background and foreground —
intelligible perspective, in a word,"1 and that " the things to
which we attend are said to interest us. Our interest in them
is supposed to be the cause of our attending."1 James also
refers to interest as a selecting principle.1 In his Talks he
again takes up the subject. The native interests of children lie
altogether in the sphere of sensation."' " Any object not inter-
esting in itself may become interesting through becoming asso-
ciated -with an object in which an interest already exists. The
two associated objects grow> as it were^ together ; the interesting
•portion sheds its quality over the whole; and thus things not
interesting in their own right borrow an interest which he comes
as real and as strong as that of any natively interesting thing"2
This statement would fit much better in Mill's Analysis than
in anything that James has written ; which implies, of course,
not that James is bad, but that Mill is good.

We shall end our historical survey by rapidly giving what
the other psychologists treating of interest have given. Ladd
considers interest a feeling. As he says, "the question of
gaining attention, is, in general a question of exciting some
kind of feeling. In fact, the power which different objects of
sense or ideas have to get attention in that * struggle for exist-
ence ' which takes place in the stream of mental human life is
all summed up in that one word indicative of feeling, * interest.'
It is acknowledged by all that different minds have very different
interests. But with all this great diversity of particular interests
it is also the acknowledged universal rule that men attend with
ease and effectiveness to what interests them, but only with
difficulty and reluctance, or not at all, to what does not interest
them." u This, however, is far from warranting us in saying,
as Stumpf does, 'Attention is identical with interest, and interest
is a feeling.'"3 Finally Miss Calkins, assuming (i) Stumpf s
dictum, * Aufmerksamkeit ist identisch mit Intcrcssc, it. s. w.,'

i Principles of Psychology, 1890, I., pp. 284, 402, 416, 515, 572, 594; II., p.

344-

1 Talks to Teachers, 1899, pp. 92, 94.

^ Psychology^ Descriptive and Explanatory, 1894, p. 79.

238 FELIX ARNOLD.

and (2) combining it with the formula of attention given by
Titchener and by James, attention as a state of clearness, gets
as a description of attention and therefore of interest which she
identifies with attention, the following : Attention or interest is
the * feeling of clearness' which is present in such moments.1
It is evident that these two will hardly mix if we take Stumpf s
Gefuhl in its actual signification.

(To be concluded.}

1 Introduction to Psychology, 1901, pp. 137, 140, 488.

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS ? l

BY DR. BORIS SIDIS,
Brookline, Mass.

When we first formed our acquaintance with hypnotic phe-
nomena, we had many reports of the wonderful feats possible
in the hypnotic state. Among the many marvels hypnotic and
post-hypnotic hallucinations induced by suggestion occupied a
prominent place. A good many of such hypnotic studies have
been the result of amusement and at best of wonder. If it be
true as Plato and Aristotle tell us that the origin of science is in
wonder, all that is well and good as a beginning. When how-
ever we find that the beginning persists, when we find that the
apparently precocious baby does not reach its adolescence and
manhood, we begin to wonder what the trouble may possibly be,
and whether it is not a case of mental defectiveness. When we
find that as the literature of the subject grows the same state of
blank wonder still persists ; when we find that hallucinations in-
duced by suggestion are described in all their minutiae without
the least critical psychological analysis of the phenomena, it is
time to ask whether the preliminary stage of hypnotic marvels
and mysteries has not lasted too long. It is well to pause and
ask the question : " Are there any hallucinations hypnotically
suggested? Does the subject really experience the hallucina-
tions?" We rarely find in the whole literature of the subject
that any of the writers should even as much as refer to the ques-
tion of the validity of the hypnotic hallucinations. The hyp-
notic subject accepts the experimenter's suggestion and the ex-
perimenter takes the subject's honest word on faith. The trust is
mutual. He however who has devoted time and reflection to
the matter realizes that the introspective account of the hypnotic
subject must be taken cum grano salt's. First, because one rarely
finds a subject who is able and trustworthy to give an introspec-

1 Read before the American Psychological Association, December, 1905.

239

240 JBORIS SID IS.

tive account ; and second, one must always remember the train-
ing and extreme suggestibility of the subject, a suggestibility
which makes the subject insist on what the experimenter sug-
gests to him, no matter whether he really experiences it or not.
This is the dangerous pitfall of hypnosis, into which many an
investigator in this field has 'fallen. We cannot possibly base
our scientific generalizations on the insight and * psychologiz-
ing' of one hypnotic case, nor can we accept universally the
statements of the subject on the ground that the latter is of an
exemplary conscientious character. One must be constantly on
his guard, have many cases and keep on constantly sifting his
material and that with a good deal of scepticism. One must
watch his subjects or patients very closely, always have his sus-
picions, compare their statements with one another and especi-
ally with those of the same patient in various states.

In my experience of many years with hypnotic subjects,
some of whom went into a deep somnambulistic state, a doubt
gradually began to arise in my mind as to the validity of the
hypnotic hallucination. When I came to devote my time to
studies of cases afflicted with hallucinations, the doubt grew
stronger and almost became a certainty. I could not help reach-
ing the conclusion that the hallucinations hypnotically suggested
are not genuine. In other words, facts lead me to think that
there is no hypnotic hallucination in the strict sense of that word.

Before we proceed with our discussion it may be well to
give an analysis, however brief, of the percept of hallucination,
and then compare the latter with experiments and observations
of hypnotic and post-hypnotic hallucinations.

We may begin with the percept and its elements. In look-
ing at the vase before me I see its beautiful tints, its rounded
shape, its heavy pedestal with its rough curves, its solidity,
weight, brittleness and other experiences which go to make up
the perception of the vase. Now, the visual elements are given
directly by the visual perceptive experience ; but whence come
the seemingly direct experiences of weight, heaviness, rough-
ness, smoothness, and others of the like kind? They are evi-
dently derived from other senses. The whole perceptive ex-
perience is of a visual character. We take in the whole with

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS? 241

our eye. In the organic structure of the percept then, bc^
the experiences directly given by the stimulated sense-organ,
there are other experiences, sensory in character, indirectly
given, and coming from other sense organs which are not di-
rectly stimulated.

The percept is a complicated dynamic product, and its ele-
mentary processes are never derived from one isolated domain
of sensory experience. The activity of all the sensory domains
cooperates in the total result of an apparently simple percept.
Along with sensory processes directly stimulated, a mass of other
sensory processes become organized and help to contribute to
the total result. The direct sensory elements are termed by me
primary sensory elements; the indirectly given experiences are
termed secondary sensory elements. The secondary sensory
elements may be figuratively said to cluster round the primary
sensory elements as their nucleus.

The whole perceptual experience is tinged by the character
of the primary elements which constitute the guiding nucleus, so
to say. Thus, where the primary sensory elements are visual,
the whole mass, no matter from what domain the sensory ex-
periences are derived, appears under the form of the visual
sense, and the percept is a visual percept. While the primary
sensory elements form, so to say, the dynamic center of the
total perceptual experience, the secondary sensory elements
mainly constitute its content. Both primary and secondary
elements are sensory and are induced peripherally ; the pri-
mary directly, the secondary indirectly. The percept then is
sensory and is constituted by primary sensory elements, or
primary sensations, and by secondary sensory elements, or sec-
ondary sensations.

The character of the secondary sensory elements stands out
clear and independent in the phenomena of synaesthesia, of
secondary sensations. In synassthesia we have a sensation of
one sense organ followed, without an intermediary direct stimu-
lation, by a sensation coming from another sense organ. Thus,
when a sensation of light instead of giving rise to a subsequent
idea gives rise to a sensation of sound for instance, we have the
phenomenon of secondary sensation. Here the secondary sen-

242 BORIS SIDIS.

sations stand out free and distinct, but they are really always
present in our ordinary perceptive experiences as bound up sec-
ondary sensory elements, as secondary sensations grouped around
primary sensations.

When the phenomena of synaesthesia were first brought to
the notice of the scientific world, they were regarded as abnormal
and exceptional, and only present in special pathological cases.
Soon however their field became widened, and they were found
not only in the insane and degenerate, but in many persons other-
wise perfectly normal. We find now that we must further widen
the field of secondary sensory elements and, instead of regard-
ing them as a freak of nature existing under highly artificial
conditions, we must put them at the very foundation of the
process of perception.

Secondary sensations are at the basis of perception. We
have become so accustomed to them that we simply disregard
them. When, however, the conditions change, when the second-
ary sensations stand out by themselves, isolated from the primary
nuclear elements with which they are usually organically syn-
thetized into a whole, into a percept, when they become dissoci-
ated, it is only then that we become conscious of them directly
and declare them as abnormal. Secondary sensations are always
present in every act of perception ; in fact they form the main
content of our perceptual activity, only we are not conscious of
them and it requires a special analysis to reveal them. Second-
ary sensations per se are not something abnormal — just as
hydrogen present in the water we drink or the oxygen present
in the air we breathe are not newly created elements, — it only
requires an analysis to discover them. If there be any abnor-
mality about secondary sensations, it is not in the elements them-
selves, but rather in the fact of their dissociation from the pri-
mary nuclear elements.

Now when the secondary sensory elements come to the
foreground and stand out clearly in consciousness, a full-fledged
hallucination arises. In the phenomena of synassthesia we have
hallucinations in the simplest form, inasmuch as only isolated
secondary sensory elements dissociated from their active primary
central elements stand out in the foreground of consciousness.

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS f 243

This very simplification however of hallucinations reveals their
inner character. The most complex hallucinations are only
complex compounds, so to say, of secondary sensory elements.
Hallucinations are not anything mysterious, different from what
we find in the normal ordinary processes of perception ; they
are of the same character and have the same elements in their
constitution as those of perception. Both hallucinations and
percepts have the same secondary as well as primary elements.
The difference between hallucinations and percepts is only one of
relationship, of rearrangement of elements, primary and second-
ary. When secondary sensory elements become under conditions
of dissociation dynamically active in the focus of consciousness
we have hallucinations?

From this standpoint we can well understand why a hallu-
cination, like a percept has all the attributes of external reality.
A hallucination is not any more mysterious and wonderful than
a percept is. We do not recognize the humdrum percept, when
it appears in the guise of a hullucination, and we regard it as
some strange visitant coming from a central, from some super-
sensory universe. Hallucinations, like percepts, are constituted
of primary and especially of secondary sensory elements, and
like percepts, hallucinations too are induced peripherally.

Now how is it with suggested2 or hypnotic hallucinations?
Do we find in hypnotic or suggested hallucinations, as in the
case of hallucinations in general, the requisite primary and sec-
ondary sensory elements directly and indirectly induced? Binet
makes an attempt to establish a peripheral stimulus in the case
of hypnotic hallucinations, claiming that there is a point de
repcre, a kind of a peg, on which the hypnotic hallucination is
hung. It is questionable whether Binet himself still maintains
this position. However the case may be, this position is hardly

1 For a full account see my paper 'An Inquiry into the Nature of Hallucina-
tions,' THE PSYCHOLOGICAL, REVIEW for January and March, 1904 ; also the
excellent paper on 'Hallucinations' published by my friend and former associ-
ate, Dr. Wm. A. White, superintendent of the Government Hospital for the
Insane, Washington, D. C., in The Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases for
November, 1904.

-Throughout this paper I use the term 'suggested hallucination ' to indi-
cate the character and origin of the latter. The term seems to me convenient
and may prove acceptable.

244 BORIS SID IS.

tenable when confronted with facts. Hypnotic hallucinations
may develop without any peg and prop. Furthermore, granted
even that now and then such a peg could be discovered, and
that the alleged hypnotic hallucination develops more easily
when such a peg is furnished, still the fact remains that even in
such cases the peg is altogether insignificant, that it is alto-
gether out of proportion and relation to the suggested hallu-
cination, and that on the same peg all kinds of hallucinations
can be hung, and that finally it can be fully dispensed with.
All this would go to show that the peg, as such, is of no conse-
quence, and is really more of the nature of an emphatic sug-
gestion for the development of the alleged hypnotic or post-
hypnotic hallucinations.

The arbitrariness of the hypnotic hallucinations, showing
that the whole thing is simply a matter of representations, or of
what the patient happens to think at that particular moment, is
well brought out in the following experiments : Mr. F. is put
into a hypnotic state and a post-hypnotic suggestion is given to
him that he shall see a watch. On awakening he claims he
sees a watch. The eyeball is then displaced, the watch is also
displaced ; now when the eyeball returns to its normal condi-
tion we should expect that the hallucinatory watch would
return to its former place ; but no, the watch is not perceived
in its previous place, — it appears in a displaced position. The
hallucinatory watch could thus be displaced any distance from
its original position. The patient evidently did not see any-
thing, but simply supplied from his stock of knowledge as
to how a seen watch would appear under such conditions, and
he omitted to notice the fact that with the normal position
of the eye the watch should once more return to its former
position. Such inconsistencies are often found in hypnosis.
More intelligent and better informed patients would reason
out the matter differently and would give different results.
If the subject knows of contrast colors and if a color is sug-
gested to him he will without fail see such contrast colors. If
his eyes have been fixed on some hallucinatory color, such as
red, for instance, he will even give you a detailed account of
the green he sees, but if he does not know anything of the

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS? 245

effects of contrast colors no amount of fixation on hallucinatory
colors will bring out the least contrast effects. The reason is
the patient does not know anything about it and cannot think of
it. We tried to mix by suggestion different hallucinatary col-
ors, and as long as he knew nothing of the real results his
replies were uniformly wrong ; no sooner did he find out what
the right mixture should be than he gave correct results. The
hypnotic subject really does not perceive anything ; he simply
tells to the best of his abilities what he believes he ought to see
under the given conditions.

It is extremely interesting to make one experiment which
gives an insight into the alleged suggested hallucination and
shows its fictitious character. The experiment succeeds best
when the subject is unprepared and is taken off his guard. I
have tried it in various cases and have had uniform results. A
suggestion is given to the subject to see a watch, say, on awak-
ening. When he awakens, the watch of course is claimed to be
seen in a kind of perfunctory manner. If now another watch
is put near the hallucinatory watch, the real watch is not taken
notice of ; it is absolutely ignored as if it did not exist. If his
attention is drawn to the real watch the subject still continues
to treat the real watch as unreal, and the suggested hallucina-
tory watch as the only real one. It is evident that in his honest
zeal to carry out the suggestion he overdoes the matter and
thus clearly reveals the fictitious character of his alleged hal-
lucination, which he in fact does not experience. If now we
give him the benefit of the doubt and tell the subject, when in
the hypnotic condition, that when he wakes he will see two
watches, thus calling his attention by suggestion equally to
both watches, one as much as the other, on awakening he still
ignores the real watch and his whole attention is occupied with
the hallucinatory watch. The subject simply overacts. He
is so anxious to carry out your suggestion and oblige you. If
we now try to test the matter by choice and ask him which of
the two watches he prefers to have, he unhesitatingly points to
the hallucinatory watch. When asked the reason, he replies
almost anything that may at that moment occur to him ; such
for instance as that the hallucinatory watch is newer or bigger,

246 BORIS SID IS.

or any old thing he may happen to think of, no matter how
absurd the reason is. In his eagerness to carry out the sug-
gestion and to show the reality of the hallucinatory watch he will
choose the hallucinatory in preference to the real watch. The
subject in short does everything in his power to convince us of
the reality of his alleged hallucination, and in his eagerness he
overdoes things, thus clearly revealing the fact that he really
does not perceive the hallucinatory object. The so-called hyp-
notic or post-hypnotic hallucination is really not a hallucination
and should not be taken as such ; the suggested hallucination
is more of the character of a delusion.

To take a couple more of my experiments with cases of hyp-
notic subjects : H. R. goes into a deep somnambulistic state. I
carried out on H. R. a series of experiments in color hallucina-
tions. The results were far from being uniform. To take an
example : He was given a suggestion to see red ; he saw it, of
course. He was then told to look at it and tell me what he saw.
At first he answered at random ; he saw the chair, the table, the
books, and so on. When he found out that color was wanted he
obliged me with that. All kinds of contrast colors, white,
blue, yellow, orange and brown were given. No sooner did
he find out the approved color than he saw it and stuck to it
afterwards. Similar results I had in the case of mixture of
hallucinatory colors. Red and green, for instance, gave all
kinds of results but the right one. No sooner was the right
color hit and felt by the subject that the experimenter approved
of the guess, than he kept on < seeing ' it without any further
modification.

All through these experiments a good deal of fishing was
done by the subject, and this fishing was probably the most in-
structive part of the experiment. On the whole, I must say that
the statements of the hypnotic subject should be treated with
extreme circumspection. I often wondered which of the two is
the greater dupe, the subject or the hypnotizer.

On one occasion I suggested to H. R. to see a hallucinatory
pencil ; he saw it, of course. He was given the suggestion to
insert the pencil in water; he did so. « What happened to the
pencil? ' I asked. « It turned red,' he replied. When, however,

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS? 247

he found out that the experimenter had in mind the refraction
of the pencil, then his pencil behaved accordingly. The sub-
ject, especially the good one, the one who is capable of good
training, is eagerly on the lookout for the slightest wish and
caprice of his manager, and is always fishing for the best way of
doing it, of carrying out those wishes to the delight of the
hypnotizer.

In cases of primary dementia or dementia praecox and kata-
tonia under my observation and experimentation, now being
carried on and soon to be published, I found hallucinatory
states strikingly like those of hypnosis. Thus in one of
my cases of katatonia, Q^ M., the patient could readily be
made to see all kinds of hallucinations, no matter how incon-
gruent. The patient could see a ' four-horned chicken with
toes on its tail ' ; ' a cat with two legs and wings ' ; * a tree with
feet, eyes and wings,' and other visions of like kind. To
demonstrate their reality the patient actually drew these visions.
(Similar experiments were carried out by me on hypnotic sub-
jects.) The patient could be made to see lions, wolves, ele-
phants and tigers, and was no more afraid of them than the
hypnotic subjects are in similar conditions. The fact is that
neither the demented nor the hypnotic subjects actually experi
ence the suggested hallucinations.

Experiments, therefore, point to the fact that suggested hal-
lucinations, hypnotic and post-hypnotic, are purely ideational
and closely conform to the course of associative, ideational or
representative activity. In other words, the subject does not
really perceive the suggested hallucinatory object. He simply
thinks of it. The subject to whom I gave the suggestion of
seeing the watch no more saw the hallucinatory watch than I
saw it. He thought of the watch, and he claimed he saw it and
acted as if he did see it. Furthermore, he was anxious to carry
out fully my suggestion to the best of his abilities, and persuade
me that he really did see an actual watch more real than a real
watch. The alleged hypnotic or post-hypnotic hallucination is
not at all of the nature of a hallucination, it is a delusion. All
we do by such a suggestion is to act on the subject's belief.
The subject believes that he perceives, and he, in his turn, as

248 BORIS SID IS.

one under a delusion, tries to convince us of the reality of his
belief; and I must say that he is quite successful in imparting
this delusional belief to the experimenter himself thus uncon-
sciously, but ironically none the less, repaying his deluder in
the same coin.

One of the special characteristics of hallucinations, as of
percepts in general, is that of reality or of externality. The
hallucination, like the percept, during the time it is experienced,
is clothed in the full garb of external reality. The hallucina-
tion is regarded by the percipient as an external object of per-
ception. Hence he who suffers from hallucinations experiences
them as he does any normal sensory percept, and, unless he
learns in other ways the hallucinatory character of his per-
ception, he reacts to it as he would to any of his normal per-
cepts of external reality. Now if we closely watch the subject
possessed by the alleged hypnotic or post-hypnotic hallucina-
tion, we find that the inmost character of externality is sadly
lacking. The sensory-motor reaction is by no means the one
produced by the corresponding sensory percept. After all, the
best criterion of an experienced percept, especially if it be that
of another organic living being, is the total motor reaction.
The proof of the pudding is in the eating. The subject does not
react to the * suggested ' pudding as if it were worth the eating.
The reaction is by no means the one called out by the perception
of an external object regarded for the time being by the per-
cipient as actually present, no matter whether that presence be
right or wrong, whether it be hallucinatory or not. The sug-
gested hallucination calls forth a reaction, if there is any at all,
of a very weak character and disproportionate to the supposed
stimulating presence of the hallucinatory object. The motor
reaction is such a one as is called out by a representation, by a
thought of the object, but not by an actual perceptive experience
of an external object, as it is in the case of an actual hallucina-
tion. In hallucinations of ghosts or of tigers, for instance, the
patient actually perceives, sees the ghosts, the tigers, the ser-
pents ; but in suggested hallucinations the subject sees the sug-
gested objects no more than we do when we talk about ghosts,
tigers and serpents, or when we suggest them to the subject.

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS f 249

The subject thinks of the suggested hallucinations and acts as
if he perceived them. In fact, the most we can do is to create
in him a belief in the supposed presence of the suggested hallu-
cinatory object. The subject is not in the psychic condition
characteristic of hallucination, but he is in the mental state
characteristic of dehisiou .

The most we can say of hypnotic, post-hypnotic, or sug-
gested hallucinations is that they are saturated, so to say, with
the belief in'the supposed presence or existence of the object sug-
gested, somewhat in the same way as the child believes in Santa
Claus, or as the school boy believes in Washington, or as we
believe in the existence of Julius Caesar. The belief, however,
is not of the vital over-bubbling stimulating effect given by a
direct perception of an external object, true or hallucinatory,
but is one essentially representative in character. And that is
all that we can claim for the potency of the hypnotic state and
efficacy of suggestion.

Hypnosis with its allied states can modify, undermine,
create belief, and important modifications can be induced in
the total mass of representative life activity. Associations
and dissociations can be brought about in the dynamic proc-
esses of representations or ideas, but we cannot create ob-
jective sensory miracles. If faith and ideas move the world,
as they most certainly do, we have in our hands a power-
ful instrument, which if intelligently used may prove of the
greatest benefit to civilization and humanity. We should not,
however, delude ourselves and ascribe to it mysterious magic
virtues. The hypnotic state with its abnormally increased sug-
gestibility can give rise to belief, to new associations and dis-
sociations of ideas, but by no legerdemain can it produce, with-
out the intermediacy of peripheral physiological processes, the
faintest sensory element. Faith may move mountains, but it
cannot create the minutest particle of dust, nor can suggestion
create the most insignificant sensation.

We should not delude ourselves as to the power of sugges-
tion, even if it be in the hypnotic state. A suggestion even in a
hypnotic state, however deep, can do no more than a very vivid
persistent idea can do in the waking state. An ideational proc-

250 BORIS SIDIS.

ess can give rise to motor and possibly to some glandular
changes but no mental magic will ever make of it an external
stimulus capable of giving rise to peripheral physiological proc-
esses resulting in a sensation with the cumulative effects end-
ing in perception. Suggestion cannot cause an amputated leg
to grow, nor is suggestion a reliable antitoxin in infectious dis-
eases, nor is it regarded as an efficacious antiseptic ; it can
hardly be credited with the power of destruction of the minutest
bacterium, nor is suggestion regarded as possessing the medici-
nal virtues of regenerating a single destroyed neuron. Why
then should we be so credulous as to endow suggestion with the
wonderful and mysterious qualities of producing sensations and
percepts without their adequate complex peripheral physiologi-
cal processes?

As far as our present knowledge of facts goes we are only
justified in saying that the efficacy of the hypnotic state with
its greatly increased suggestibility is limited entirely to idea-
tional processes, to their integration and disintegration and that
it can do no more than can be effected by a very vivid idea
under the most favorable conditions. But are we justified in
claiming that ideas however vivid can become sensations and
perceptions? No more than our ideas of vapor can become the
power of steam. We may as well claim that our idea, say of
red, provided it is ' strong ' enough, may give rise not only to the
peripheral, physiological, sensory processes, but also to the
requisite physical processes, to ether vibrations of color red, and
thus influence by a backward ' reverse current,' so to say, the
sense organs and mind of other persons.

We may arrive at that * scientific ' speculation of telepathic
power possessed by our minds to impress the ' Universal Ether,
and imprint on it our thoughts and wishes and sensations and it
simply remains for other men or * sensitive mediums ' to breathe
in or take in the impressions that flood the ethereal universe.

There is not a particle of evidence that ideas, however vivid,
may become * centrally' transformed into sensations. The idea
of musk does not smell ; the idea of white does not shine, and
the idea of sound does not ring. The suggested hypnotic and
post-hypnotic hallucinations, along with the alleged central hal-

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS? 251

lucinations and other notions of like kind belong to the gen-
eral category of psychological and psychopathological falla-
cies. It savors somewhat of the mediaeval alchemists' belief
that gold could be refined out of any old rubbish. Suggestion
reminds one of the magic powers of the philosopher's stone, —
its touch can convert the base metal of fictitious ideas into the
pure gold of sensory experience. The wonder is that the world
is not one large asylum for ideas to play gambols in, and raise
havoc with all our sensory experience, and make us suffer from
all kinds and forms of hallucinations, inasmuch as a high-pitched
ideational activity would give rise to the same sensory elements
and consequent perceptions as do peripheral stimuli and physio-
logical processes. Our ideas would be regarded as realities and
our great expectations as actualities. It is agreed on all hands
that no sensation can be transformed into another even if they both
belong to the same domain — the sensation of yellow cannot be-
come orange much less that of sound, for instance, because they
are qualitatively different. How then can we maintain the un-
tenable position that ideas, no matter how intense and vivid, can
ever become sensations, percepts, can ever form sensory and per-
ceptive experiences, even if they be hallucinatory in character.

The validity of hypnotic hallucinations has passed unchal-
lenged, because of the dubious assumption of the central origin
of hallucinations, an assumption still current among psychlo-
gists and especially among psychiatrists who still pin their faith
to 'images and idols' and accept uncritically the introspective
lucubrations of insane and dements. Although the introspective
account of the hypnotic subject is far more trustworthy and valid
than that of the insane and dements, it should be taken with the
utmost caution and should not be too credulously accepted on its
face value.

If we eliminate then the psychopathological fallacy of central
transformation of ideas into sensations and percepts, we clearly
realize the flimsiness, the spurious character of suggested, or
hypnotic hallucinations. We have first of all to frorc that the
subject actually experiences the suggested hallucinations. We
should not be blinded by a too devout worship of * central images,'
but should pay more attention to facts, to the actual mental

252 BORIS SID IS.

condition of the hypnotic subject. The fact that the intro-
spective account given by the subject confirms most emphat-
ically the presence of an actual hallucination does not count
in this case. The introspective account is just the one that
is the least reliable in such cases because of the untrustworthy
suggestible nature of the whole state, and as such should if pos-
sible be avoided, especially in cases of long standing in which
suggestibility has been trained to its utmost. We must always
keep in mind the highly suggestible character of the hypnotic
subject, and that from the very nature of his state of suggestibility
he will stick to the apparently objective description of a purely
ideational experience. We must remember that the suggested
hallucination is given in terms of objective perceptual experi-
ence and that the more effective the suggestion is, the more
suggestible the patient is, the more will he insist in his intro-
spective account on objective description of his experience given
to him in the suggestion by the experimenter. The so-called
hypnotic hallucination is an artifact elaborated by both -parties
in the experiment, — it is a kind of an unconscious collusion
formed between the experimenter and the subject.

In order to find out the delusional nature of the suggested
hallucination it is well to begin with an intelligent trustworthy
subject who has no knowledge of the marvels and mysteries of
the hypnotic state and no training has yet been permitted to
effect by means of the cumulative effect of suggestion the highly
artificial results which destroy the value of many a valuable
case. Now if we take a fresh case with no mystical humbug
about it we meet with results far different from those which are
usually described and reported. Of the various cases under
my observation and experimentation I may take the case of one
patient who went into a deep hypnotic state. To quote from
my notes : " Mr. N. goes into deep trance. While Mr. N. is in
the hypnotic trance I suggest to him that as soon as he wakes he
shall go to a jar full of water and look into it and see a series of
scenes from his former life. On awakening and hearing the signal
he goes to the jar, looks into it, and begins to recite the scenes
or the events of his former life. I suddenly stopped him and asked
him : Do you see all that in the jar? No, he replied, I see it in

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS? 253

my mind ; I have it all in my mind." The subject did not reallv
see it ; he simply thought of it. The subject is hypnotized
again ; the suggestion of hallucination is enforced. On being
awakened, when the signal is given he goes to the jar, looks
into it, and begins once more to recite his supposed visions.
Do you see them in the jar? I ask again. I do not know, he
answers, whether I see them in the jar or in my mind ; it is
hard to tell. Evidently my succeeding suggestion has brought
about some hesitation in his belief or attitude as to the pure
ideational character of his supposed visions. He would not
have hesitated in his statement as to the whereabouts of the
alleged hallucinatory objects had he perceived the actual ex-
ternal objects as is the case in actual hallucinations. The
hesitation is also instructive from another standpoint, namely,
the training which the subject gets by the form and insistence
of the suggestions given to him. The patient was just on the
point of giving way to the suggestion of objectivity of pure
ideational experiences; a few more experiments and sugges-
tions and he would have given a full description of a suggested
hallucination in its full perceptual objective glory, so delightful
to the heart of most experimenters. The simple truth of the
whole matter is "that the patient had not the least perceptual
experience of the objects suggested by the alleged hallucina-
tion ; he did not see anything, he did not see the scenes any-
where, he only thought of them, he simply remembered them,
possibly very vividly, but still they were only thoughts, mem-
ories, and not perceptions, not actual visions.

I could similarly bring from records a number of other cases
under my observation, cases in which the suggested hallucina-
tions were at first regarded as unsuccessful and only after some
repetition have the hallucinations apparently become fully de-
veloped. Thus in some of the cases put into hypnosis for the
first time the subjects declared on awakening that they did not
see anything, but that the thought of the suggested object came
to their minds. What really happened was that the subjects
not as yet trained by a whole course of 'suggestive treatment'
gave me a real account of what was actually taking place in
their minds. Such results are usually regarded as unsuccess-

254 BORIS SIDIS.

ful suggestions. As a matter of fact, it is such failures that are
really successful and that give the actual state of mind, while
the successful suggested hallucinations are artifacts.

Dr. R. D., with whom I carry on extensive series of experi-
ments, goes into a very deep somnambulistic state. He is an
excellent visualizer and takes readily visual hallucinations.
Being a trained physician and psychiatrist the subject's account
is all the more valuable.1 Now R. D. describes his hallucina-
tions as * mental pictures,' as * auditory memories,' which ' lack
exteriority, are not located in space.' He aptly characterizes
his hallucinations visual, auditory, and others, as 'jlxed ideas.'

Mr. M. goes into deep hypnosis. When in one of the deep
trance-states a suggestion is given to him that on awakening he
shall see a watch. When awake he claimed he saw a watch.
He was asked: * Do you really see it?' He replied 'Yes.'
The interesting point here was the fact that the subject did not
even look in the direction where the suggested hallucinatory
watch was supposed to be placed and where he himself claimed
that the watch was located. When tested by automatic writing
the hand wrote : ' Yes, I see the watch.' The subconscious
then was also under the influence of the suggested hallucina-
tion. This point it is well to bear in mind.

Rehypnotized, and suggested that on awakening he would
see two watches. One was a real silver watch and the other
was hallucinatory. The subject claimed he saw both, but he
handled the hallucinatory one, and when asked which of the two
he would prefer he pointed to the hallucinatory watch. When
asked why, he replied that the suggested watch was bigger. He
was really indifferent to the chosen watch and paid no further
attention to it as if it did not exist for him.

He was again put into the hypnotic state and was suggested
to see a flower. On awakening he claimed he saw a flower and
smelled it in an indifferent, perfunctory fashion. The subcon-
scious was then tested by automatic writing and the writing was
to the effect that he saw it : « I see a flower.' The subconscious
then had also the same hallucination. A series of similar ex-
periments was carried out with the same results. The subcon-

1 The experiments will be published in full.

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS? 255

scions claimed in automatic -cn'tiui? ^ult the suggested halluci-
nation iv us real.

The subject was again put into hypnosis and was given the
suggestion that he would see a watch on awakening, but here
I made some modification. * When you wake up you will be
sure to see a watch,' I said, emphatically. " Look here ; I want
you to write what you really see and not what you do not see.'
When awake he saw a watch, but he immediately wrote : * I do
not see anything.' Here the subconscious disclaimed the sug-
gested hallucinations which it had claimed and insisted on before.

Rehypnotized, and was given the suggestion that on awaken-
ing he would see three watches. He was awakened and a real
silver watch was put before him ; the other two were hallucina-
tory. He claimed he saw all three. Meanwhile, in automatic
writing he wrote : * One silver watch, real, the other golden, not
real ; nothing there.' A series of similar experiments was made
and with the same results. The automatic writing disclaimed
the hallucinations, although before, under the same conditions ,
it most emphatically insisted on their reality.

The subject was put into hypnosis and a post-hypnotic sug-
gestion was given to him that he would see his wife and child.
When awake he began to smile, and when asked why he smiled
he said : * I see my wife and child ' ; but he wrote : ' I see
nobody.' When put again in hypnosis he still continued to
smile and said : * I see my wife and child ' ; but he wrote (in
hypnotic state) : * I do not see them really ; I see nothing ; I
see my child, but I really see nothing.' " What do you mean,"
I asked, " by « I see my child, but I really see nothing '?" To
which he replied : « I mean that I see my child in my mind
only, but ' in honest* I don't see anything.'

I then gave him a posthypnotic suggestion to see a snake.
He claimed on awaking that he saw a snake. He manifested
little fear. He certainly did not behave as if he really saw a
snake and instead wrote " I see a snake. I see it in my mind."
A great number of similar experiments were carried out by me
varying the suggestions and all with the same results. I shall
not burden the reader with a detailed account as they all gave
identical results.

256 BORIS SIDIS.

At first the automatic writing claimed emphatically the
presence of the hallucinatory object and when the truth of the
automatic writing was insisted on, the writing disclaimed fully
the perception of the hallucinatory object. Finally we came
on the real character of the suggested hallucination ; ' I see my
child but honestly, I do not see anything ; I see my child in my
mind only; I dont see anything.' In other words, if we take
the facts plainly and do not play hide and seek with the sub-
conscious, we come to the conclusion that in the suggested hal-
lucinations the subject does not perceive anything as is the case
in an actual hallucination but that he simply represents, vividly
perhaps, what is suggested to him ; in short he does not perceive
but he simply thinks of the suggested hallucinatory object.

Another interesting point may be brought out here. The
automatic writing, as is usually the case, is not taken cognizance
of by the patient, and, although this same writing at first claimed
the actuality and genuineness of the suggested hallucinations it
gave in the second series of experiments the real insight into
the whole matter: ' I see the child; I see nothing; I see it in
my mind ' ; or « I see the snake ; I really see nothing ; I see it
in my mind.' When the subject was made fully conscious of
his automatic writing and became fully aware that he was being
entrapped he once more began to claim in automatic writing the
actuality of the suggested hallucination. As long then as the
automatic writing was regarded by the subject as independent
for which he was not responsible and as long as the suggestion
of the hallucination was not taken as directly addressed to it,
the subject himself frankly acknowledged the fact that he did
not see anything. The cat was thus let out of the bag. No
sooner, however, was this truth of the automatic writing brought
home to the subject so that he should be confronted with it
directly and squarely, than he was bound by the fact of the
given suggestion to claim that he actually saw the suggested
hallucinatory object, although he really did not see anything at
all. This is most instructive. For it shows clearly that the
hypnotic consciousness, from the very nature of its heightened
suggestibility, clings most anxiously, to the given suggestion
and insists on the reality of its fulfillment. We must, there-

ARE THERE HYPNOTIC HALLUCINATIONS? 257

fore, be on our guard and not trust the subject's introspective
account, unless it is well sifted by good circumstantial evidence.
It is because such precautions have not been taken in the close
interrogation of the subject's actual state of mind, and because
of the deep-rooted psychological fallacy as to the relation of
ideational and perceptual activities that the prevalent belief in
the validity of suggested hallucinations has passed unchallenged.
If not for those factors, it seems to me, it would have been
quite evident that hypnotic and post-hypnotic suggested hal-
lucinations are not genuine, but are essentially spurious; that
hypnotic hallucinations, unlike actual hallucinations, are really
not experienced; that hypnotically suggested hallucinations are
only forms of delusions.1

1 The MS. of this article was received March n, 1906. — ED.

STUDIES FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL LABORA-
TORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

COMMUNICATED BY PROFESSOR JAMES R. ANGELL.

A STUDY OF CERTAIN RELATIONS OF ACCOMMODATION AND

CONVERGENCE TO THE JUDGMENT OF THE THIRD

DIMENSION.

BY HARVEY CARR, PH.D.,

WITH THE COOPERATION OF

JESSIE B. ALLEN, PH.D.

I. While one of the writers of this paper was investigating
the problem of the third dimension, controlling the depth loca-
tion of combined visual images by obtaining a reflex control over
the convergent-accommodatory process, the other who was serv-
ing as subject insisted that she possessed the ability to locate the
image at will, irrespective of the reflex control exercised over
the convergence by the conditions of the experiment. Further-
more, it was stated that she had possessed this peculiar ability of
voluntary control of depth location throughout life and had often
amused herself during youth by voluntarily changing the appa-
rent distances of objects in the visual field. For instance, a house
could be made to approach or recede at will. After becoming a
psychologist her interests had led her along other lines, and the
phenomenon had never been studied.

The results of the following tests show that this subject pos-
sesses a direct voluntary control of lenticular accommodation
independent of the convergence, and that depth is in her case a
function of accommodation and is in no respect effectively in-
fluenced by convergent changes.

In the experiments the subject's head was held by a mouth-
bit head-rest. At the opposite end of the room (290 cm. distant)
was a screen. Two bright wires of identical size and appear-
ance were fixed parallel to one another in a screw mechanism

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE 259

similar to the Jastrow aesthesiometer so that their distance apart
could be gradually changed. The mechanism was fast<
before the subject so that the wires were vertical and but a few
inches in front of the eyes. A screen was interposed so that
but a couple of inches of the tops of the two wires could be seen.
The subject then combined stereoscopically the foveal images
of these two wires and voluntarily controlled the depth location
of the combined image. Under these conditions there is a re-
flexive tendency to maintain this binocular unity of vision and
hence the experimenter can alter the degree of convergence as
desired by gradually changing the distance between the two
wires.

i. The experimenter kept the subject's eyes in a fixed con-
vergent position, while the subject voluntarily moved the com-
bined image back and forth between her head and the distant
screen. This change in the depth location of the image was
not a matter of mere interpretation but was an actually perceived
movement. One's judgment as to the distance of an object may
vary from time to time without any apparent motion on the part
of that object. The distance may appear to be three feet at
one time and eight feet at another. The change would be in
the interpretative processes, in the motor evaluation of the con-
stant visual criteria of depth. In our case, however, the com-
bined image did not simply appear to be now nearer, or now
farther away, but it also appeared to move as well. This ap-
parent backward and forward movement was as real, psychically
speaking, as that of any material object.

The following facts prove that the convergence really re-
mained unaltered during this volitional movement of the image :

(a) the combined images of the wires did not become doubled.
Since the distance apart of the wires and their relation to the
head were constant during the test, any convergent or divergent
movements of the eyes would have destroyed unitary vision.

(b) An object placed at the intersection of the visual axes was
always seen single while objects placed nearer or farther away
were seen double, (c) No convergent movement of the eyes
could be detected by observation. If an observer sights over
a fixed point at the juncture of the iris and the sclerotic the least

260 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

convergent rotation is easily detected, (d) The retina was also
observed through an ophthalmoscope. A system of parallel
vertical lines stretched on a frame was attached to the instru-
ment in such a way that the retina was viewed through this
non-magnified system of lines. The instrument was so adjusted
that some prominent and distinct feature of the retina, e. g., the
edge of the optic disc or the juncture of two distinct blood ves-
sels was in line with one of the vertical threads. Since the
instrument magnified twelve to fourteen times, the least con-
vergent rotation could be easily detected. Save a few irregu-
lar twitchings, no convergent motion occurred. A slight vertical
rotation was present, a phenomenon which will be discussed
later in the paper.

The following facts demonstrate the existence of accommo-
datory changes running parallel with the movement of the com-
bined image, (a) The combined image became larger, more
blurred and confused in proportion as its distance from the sub-
ject increased, and smaller, more distinct and definite in propor-
tion as its location was changed to the distance position of the
two wires, (b) The double images of any object placed at the
position temporarily occupied by the movable image were always
clear and distinct as in the case of a normal accommodation for
this point. The images of an object placed at any other posi-
tion were large, blurred and confused as in the case of imper-
fect accommodation, (c) In normal distance adjustments the
size of the pupil varies reflexly with the lenticular changes. The
same relation obtained in these tests. The pupil could be ob-
served to enlarge when the image was moved to far distances
and to decrease when the image was brought toward the subject.
This change in the size of the pupil was also detected intro-
spectively by the subject. In fact the experimenter's attention
was first directed to the phenomenon in this way. (d) Lenticu-
lar changes were detected directly by the use of the phakoscope.
The regulation Helmholtzian arrangement cannot be used in
this test because the instrument would intercept the subject's
binocular vision. A Welsbach gas light was covered so that no
light was emitted in the room save through two small apertures.
This light was directed upon the cornea. A candle screened from

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE. 261

the subject illumined the distant screen and a second candle was
placed back and to one side of the subject so as to illumine the
two wires without casting any light on the eye to be observed.
In this way the room was sufficiently lighted to allow of a con-
trol of the movable image without interfering with the e\j
menter's vision of the reflected lenticular images. Since the eye
was stationary, the lenticular images were continuously visible
to the observer from one position. In fact, this is additional
proof that the subject's eyes did not rotate, for the least conver-
gent rotation would necessitate a new position of observation.
The anterior lens image behaved exactly as in normal accom-
modation. It moved forward toward the cornea as the subject
located the movable image at near distances and moved backward
when the movable image was located at the screen. In certain
of the tests the subject rapidly moved the combined image back
and forth between her face and the screen, calling off the direction
of the movements, while the observer simultaneously noted the
behavior of the lenticular image. The observer also called off
the movements of the lenticular image and had the results
checked by the subject. With a little practice the experimenter
could easily describe the behavior of the moving image of the
wires by observing the accommodatory changes.

During the previous experiments the subject's eyes were kept
in the one convergent position. The same tests were now re-
peated for several other convergent positions, varying from that
of approximate parallelism to one of near convergence. The
results were uniform and decisive throughout.

2. In the following series of tests the subject was requested
to hold the combined image in some one position, e. g.t at the
distant screen, while the experimenter altered the convergence
as desired by means of the screw mechanism formerly described.
The experiment was successful ; the combined image was kept
stationary at any desired position ; the accommodation remained
unaltered while the convergence was varied between normal
limits.

The same line of evidence as used formerly proved the ex-
istence of convergent changes. The combined image remained
single unless the eyes were forced beyond their normal conver-

262 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

gent limits or unless the enforced movements were too rapid or
irregular. In this case the combined image would become
double, the separation at once being noticed by the subject.
Objects located at the point of intersection of the visual axes
were seen single, while all objects outside of the temporary
horopter appeared double. The convergent movement was
easily observable.

The accommodation remained unaltered, for no visual
images changed in size or distinctness. Objects situated at the
location of the combined image appeared clear and distinct, all
others being large and confused. No pupillary changes were
detected by the observer. For the phakoscopic test it is neces-
sary to keep the eye observed stationary. This can be done by
moving but one of the wires in the mechanism. No accommo-
datory changes were observable.

The tests were repeated for different degrees of accommo-
dation. The combined image was located at several intervening
positions between the distant screen and a point 20 cm. in front
of the subject's head. Uniform results were obtained in every
case ; the enforced convergent changes in no way effectively
influenced the depth location of the combined image.

The subject was not immediately conscious of these enforced
convergent rotations. At first the subject was directed to keep
the combined image continuously at the screen, but was given
no knowledge as to the test to be performed. The experi-
menter then changed the convergence back and forth between
wide limits and questioned the subject as to what had occurred.
The subject had no knowledge of these eye movements and
expressed surprise upon being informed as to what had been
done. This ignorance was no doubt partly due to the subject's
extreme concentration of attention, for thereafter she was aware
of these convergent rotations, though the awareness seemed to
be based upon the behavior of the images in the visual field
rather than upon an immediate consciousness of the eye move-
ments themselves, i. £., upon the afferent tactual-motor sen-
sations.

This volitional control of the depth location of visual images
is not limited to the conditions of the experiment, t. <?., to stere-

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE. 263

oscopically combined images. It extends to all normal condi-
tions of vision. In the normal perception of any object, the
subject can move its image nearer or farther away at will.
Again no convergent movements of the eyes occur, for the
moving image of the object remains single. Neither can con-
vergent rotations be detected by observation of the cornea nor
by ophthalmoscopic observation of the retina. The same rela-
tion obtains between the moving image and the accommodation
as in the experiments above. The image is always located at
that position for which the eyes are accommodated. These
accompanying accommodatory changes are evidenced by the
same tests described above.

This volitional control of depth obtains with monocular as
well as binocular vision. The monocular control is probably
conditioned by the same physiological changes as already de-
scribed, though the proof of the statement is somewhat difficult.
For instance, the experimental procedure used with the stereo-
scopically combined image cannot be employed, for binocular
vision is necessary to secure such an image. If one eye be
closed, it is impossible to make any confident assertion as to the
presence or absence of convergent rotations. Observations can
be made only under normal conditions when the vision of one
eye is intercepted by a screen. Even here the conditions of the
test are hardly fair, since binocular unity of vision is a stimulus
to the maintenance of any given convergent position. The de-
struction of unitary vision by the interposition of the screen
allows the eye observed to rotate slightly back toward its more
normal position of rest, this rotation not being necessarily due
to the voluntary alterations of the accommodation. However,
as far as could be observed, convergent changes played no
essential role in the monocular control of depth. The accom-
modation factor was present as formerly.

In the experiment on the combined image, a slight vertical
rotation of the eyes was necessary in order to move the image
as desired. An upward rotation was necessary to move the
image away, with a downward rotation in order to bring the
image nearer. This movement was first detected by the subject
by noticing a slight shift in the position of the fixation point.

264 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

The observation was confirmed by the ophthalmoscopic test.
The rotation was small but was further decreased in amount by
practice. The angular rotation as measured by the ophthal-
moscope was but one degree. However, this vertical rotation
was necessary only in the case of the combined image. It did
not occur for normal conditions of voluntary control, t. £., for
moving the image of any object normally perceived.

It is to be noted that in the experiment the combined image
was moved up to and away from the distant screen. This
seems rather anomalous, for if the depth location of visual
images is a function solely of accommodation it would seem
that all images in the visual field — the screen as well as
the combined image — should move. Hence the movement of
the combined image relative to that of the screen would be im-
possible. All images in the field should participate in the
movement to the same extent. However, it is to be noted that
the conditions of the experiment demand a strong concentration
of the attention upon the combined image. Now it was found
that the whole visual field, — or rather that part of it subject to
accurate observation, — did participate in the third dimensional
movements when the attention was voluntarily dispersed as
widely as possible. In other words, the movements were
limited to those images well within the focus of attention. With
volitional control in normal perception, on the other hand, all
images in the center of the visual field participate in the move-
ments unless the attention is voluntarily concentrated upon some
particular object. In that case this object alone will move
although it is hardly proper to say that the remaining images
appear stationary for the subject is hardly cognizant of them in
any overt way. Consequently this volitional control of depth
appears to be limited to those images within the field of atten-
tion. Depth is thus a function not merely of accommodation,
but of the whole psycho-physical accommodatory act in which,
however, convergence plays no essential or effective part.

With fatigue this volitional control over depth is weakened,
or in other words, the subject loses control over the accommo-
datory process. In this condition the visual field tends to recede
to a great distance and is only brought back to its normal posi-

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE. 265

tion by a distinct effort of will. At the same time the eyes tend
to converge for near distances. The same results occur in the
case of rest or complete relaxation. The eyes are then lowered
slightly below the primary position and are converged upon a
point some three or four feet distant. All images recede toward
the horizon giving the subject a far off, isolated and detached
feeling. From the pupillary observations as the subject falls into
this half dreamy state of relaxation it is evident that the usual
relation between accommodation and depth obtains. Hence
there can be no fixed natural associative relation between the
processes of convergence and accommodation in the case of this
subject. In fact the natural relation between these processes
would seem to be one of disassociation, the two becoming
united or associated only in the act of volition. Again, in
these conditions of disassociation, depth seems to be a function
of the accommodatory process.

Outside of this peculiarity the subject's eyes are perfectly
normal. The subject has never worn glasses and has been
entirely free from eye troubles throughout life. In fact her
vision has been exceptionally good. Several oculists have
stated that her eyes are free from optical defects and are
models in respect to general health and soundness.

The subject gives the following introspective account of
the phenomenon: "From the earliest observation of my sense
performances, I noticed that during eye fatigue the visual field
would retreat to a great distance, — apparently to the horizon.
In this condition the eyes felt relaxed and in a resting position.
When the relaxation was less complete the field of view would
be less remote, but still beyond its actual distance. This re-
laxation was subject to voluntary control and usually the amount
of attention demanded by surrounding objects determined the
degree of relaxation permitted. It was possible to move the
field back and forth at will, but if the attention was strongly
focussed on some central object that object alone appeared to
move. Under natural conditions the whole field participates in
the movement. It is becoming more and more difficult to keep
the visual field in its proper position during fatigue, the con-
stant tendency being for it to retreat to the horizon. In assum-

266 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

ing the position of rest, the eyes are directed downward, the
visual axes being below the primary position.

" Under the experimental conditions, a slight upward and
downward movement of the eyes was found necessary in order
to secure the desired control. Under ordinary perceptual con-
ditions this never occurs. When the visual object was kept
stationary by voluntary maintenance of focus while the conver-
gence was reflexly altered, no sensation of eye movement
occurred. There was present merely a feeling of strain, or of
constant tension -within the eye. When the eyes are converged
and focussed upon a near object, there is always present a
slight sensation of strain -within the eyes. Upon allowing the
object to retreat to a far distance, the feeling is one of relaxa-
tion,— a relief of tension within the eyes. No sensations are
present in the extrinsic eye muscles."

In regard to this subject the following facts seem note-
worthy :

1. No fixed nativistic connection exists between accommo-
dation and convergence. They are related only indirectly
through the process of innervation.

2. There is complete volitional control exercised over the
lens independent of the convergence.

3. Depth is a function of the psycho-physical accommoda-
tory act and is not effectively influenced by reflexly induced
convergent changes.

4. The subject seems to be peculiarly non-sensitive to con-
vergent rotations, but is extremely sensitive to accommodatory
changes.

II. Afterwards a somewhat similar case was discovered.
The subject, Mrs. V. H., wife of a prominent surgeon of
Chicago, is astigmatic and has experienced much trouble in
securing accurately fitting glasses. This has resulted from the
impossibility of completely paralyzing the lenticular muscles by
atropine. A well known oculist of Chicago continued the treat-
ment until compelled to stop for fear of causing a permanent
injury, yet spasmodic twitchings were present sufficiently to
prevent any accurate diagnosis. The subject's eyes are ex-
tremely susceptible to fatigue and in this condition all objects

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE. 267

appear far off and distant, it being extremely difficult to bring
them back to their proper positions. The same is true of rest
or relaxation. All visual objects at once recede to distant posi-
tions, but can be pulled back by an effort of will. The subject
has found it almost impossible to estimate distances accurately
because the apparent distances of objects vary markedly from
time to time. The resulting conflict of judgments as to the
same distance first brought this peculiarity to the subject's n<>
No inconvenience has resulted in familiar surroundings because
the varying visual distances are ignored in favor of the actual
knowledge of the particular situation as reflectively dei
from past experiences. However, with relatively strange sur-
roundings she has learned to place no reliance whatsoever upon
estimations of unknown distances. For instance, the subject
related that she is a golf enthusiast but has always remained an
extremely poor player on account of this visual trouble. When
approaching a green on unknown grounds where the strength
and kind of a stroke must depend upon the actual distance of
the green, often to her amazement the ball would be sent flying
far beyond, or occasionally it would fall far short of its intended
destination. The fault lay not in a misjudgment as to the
proper stroke adapted to any given distance, but rather in a
visual misjudgment of the distance. On familiar grounds the
same trouble occurred except when certain fixed objects were
present whose space relations had become known from former
experiences. Even here no high degree of accuracy could be
obtained. The case is somewhat similar to the distance illusions
in high altitudes. A mountain appears but a mile distant,
a five-mile tramp is found necessary to reach it. In this case,
however, all distances appear shortened, but in a certain definite
ratio, and consequently after a short time the novice learns to
make a definite allowance for the illusion. In other words, the
illusion is constant in character and a new set of motor inter-
pretations of visual distances is acquired. With the present
subject the illusion is variable. The magnification or decrease
of actual distances varies from day to day and hence from a
few experiences one cannot derive any fixed system of motor
interpretation of apparent, or visual, distances that will apply

268 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

accurately to novel situations. Adaptive evaluations of apparent
distances cannot be successfully universalized. Every specific
distance between two objects must be learned mainly by itself.
The situation is so novel and foreign to the ordinary experience
that one finds it rather difficult even to imagine, to say nothing
of finding words adequately to describe, the phenomenon.

Circumstances did not permit any detailed tests upon the
accompanying physiological changes. The subject declared
that the fixated object never became doubled when its image
retreated or approached. Tests demonstrated that she readily
detected double images when present. A close observation of
her eyes convinced the writer that no convergent movements
occurred during the movements of the visual field. As to
accommodatory changes the size of the pupil varied as in the
case of the first subject. The distinctness and clearness of the
movable images also varied, thus indicating lenticular distur-
bances. On the basis of the similarity between the two cases,
the evidence seems sufficient to warrant the conclusions that
this subject also possessed a volitional control over accommoda-
tion irrespective of the convergence and that depth is a function
of the psychophysical process of accommodation and is not
effectively influenced by convergent changes.

In a way it is hardly proper to speak of this second case
as one cf voluntary control of depth ; it is rather to be described
as a lack of perfect control. Depth is subject to volition but
the control is difficult, erratic and inaccurate.

III. These two cases have a significant bearing upon two
questions : (i) the mutual relation of the two physiological proc-
esses of convergence and accommodation from the standpoint
of their volitional manipulation ; (2) their relative influence
upon judgments of depth. Their bearing upon both questions
can best be interpreted in the light of other similar results.

i. The mere fact of the disassociation of the two processes
is not new. The following statements in regard to the phenom-
enon are probably rather generally admitted : In normal per-
ceptual conditions a relatively strict association of the two func-
tions obtains. The two processes can be disassociated to some
degree, at least with most people. The degree of the disasso-

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE. 269

ciation and the facility of its attainment vary markedly among
individuals and probably with practice. For instance Hyslop !
and the two subjects described in this paper represent the ex-
treme as to disassociative ability. Most people can obtain but
a limited degree of disassociation, and that only with difficulty.

Now there are at least two methods of obtaining disassoi
tion, that typified by Hyslop and that represented by the two
subjects of this paper. Hyslop has written rather fully of his
case which is characterized by a very unusual control of con-
vergence. He voluntarily converges in front of or behind a
double figure combining the similar images, but the lens fails
to follow this convergent change and remains accommodated
for the actual position of the object in question. This method
is the exact opposite of the second type. In both cases the voli-
tion is directed away from the object. In the first type the con-
vergence responds to the volitional innervation while the lens
remains unaltered ; in the second type it is the lens which moves
in conformity to the will while it is the convergence which re-
mains adapted to the position of the object. In normal distance
adjustments the two processes would alter in consonance for
both cases.

This process of disassociation may be conceived of in either
of two ways : (i) there is a normal associative force or relation
— whatever its nature maybe — between accommodation and
convergence, which is volitionally destroyed for the time being,
leaving one of the processes free from any stimulating influ-
ences ; (2) the process which remains unaltered during the dis-
association is under the influence of two antagonistic forces, the
normal associative relation and some objective stimulus from the
object.

The latter conception is supported by several lines of evi-
dence. In the first, or normal, type of dissociation, the lens at
first alters in consonance with the convergence with most peo-
ple and after some time gradually becomes re-accommodated
for the position of the object. According to the first conception
no re-accommodation should occur. With Miss Allen, the con-

1 Hyslop, 'Experiments in Space Perception,' PSYCH. REVIEW, I., 257-273,
581-601.

270 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

vergence changes as the relation of the object — the two parallel
wires — is altered in respect to the eyes. The normal connec-
tion does not exist during fatigue nor relaxation.

This tendency to respond to the object is a volitional-reflex-
ive one. It cannot be purely reflexive, for the response is not
to any object in the visual field, but only to that object whose
image occupies the focus of attention. On the other hand, it
cannot be purely voluntary, for in the experiment the distance
apart of the two wires was changed and the subject was at first
entirely unconscious of the induced convergent changes. Given
attention to a combined or nearly combined image, the conver-
gence is reflexly altered so as to maintain or secure respectively
binocular unity of vision. Given attention to a confused image,
the lens is reflexly stimulated so as to secure clear and distinct
vision. The response is thus reflexive in nature, but operates
under volitionally imposed conditions ; it is only indirectly sub-
ject to volition.

Since this process, which remains unaltered in disassociation,
is subject to two antagonistic forces, the results — the degree
of disassociation and the ease and rapidity of its attainment —
must depend upon the relative strength of these forces in any
particular situation. Since the results vary markedly with indi-
viduals and to some extent with practice, it follows that the
relative strength of the two forces is a wide variant. The re-
sponsive tendency to the objective stimulus is basically reflexive
and it is of the nature of these nativistic reflexive tendencies to
be racially uniform. Consequently it must be the strength of
the normal associative tendency which varies among individuals
and with practice. In fact, this assumption is supported by
another line of evidence.

This normal associative relation between convergence and
accommodation may be conceived of in either of two ways : (i)
It may be nativistically functional in nature. One process may
be volitionally controlled while the second process has a reflex
relation to the first. That is, the actual movement due to voli-
tion is the physiological stimulus to the second process, as in
the case of a chain of reflexes. This supposition would de-
mand two totally different sets of anatomical conditions to

A C C OMMODA TION AND CON VER GEN CE. 2 7 i

explain the two types of disassociation, but anatomy is hardly
supposed to be subject to such marked individual variations.
Again the two processes are disassociated with Miss Allen in the
condition of rest or relaxation. Here the association obtains
only under the conditions of innervation. The associative ten-
dency cannot be a natural nativistic one. The two processes
arc related not directly but only indirectly by means of their
common relation to innervation. (2) The second hypothesis
conceives the two factors as connected only in the process of
innervation, and in such a way that individual variations may
arise during the development of volitional control. Two possi-
bilities are again open : (a) The two processes were originally
distinct and separate volitional acts, which in time were com-
bined, or coordinated into one act, as is the case with many of
our complicated habits. The method of development is one of
synthesis. The connection is thus not nativistic, but acquired
and subject to individual variation, (b) The second possibility
differs from the first in the fact that the growth of motor control
proceeds by analysis and differentiation rather than by synthe-
sis and integration. As an illustration, a baby attempts a defi-
nite movement of its big toe, but as a result the other toes and
the foot as a whole receive a definite innervation. In time this
vague whole may be differentiated into separate volitional acts,
or into certain coordinations wherein the parts bear certain mu-
tual relations to each other. In other words, individual varia-
tions may arise during the development of motor control.

From the standpoint of this paper it makes no difference
which of these possibilities we assume to be true in the case of
accommodation. Nor have any facts been developed which
definitely point to either conclusion. However, we know that
in general it is those movements whose anatomical conditions of
innervation are widely distinct and separate, which are synthet-
ically combined while those members closely related anatom-
ically, e. g., the toes of one foot, are originally united in voli-
tion and become differentiated in the development of volitional
control. This general principle would support the second hy-
pothesis as to the relation of convergence and accommodation.

According to both conceptions, however, it is possible that

272 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

either convergence or accommodation might play the dominant
role in volitionally controlling the coordination. In a coordi-
nation of two factors, ' # ' and * 3,' it might be possible to inner-
vate * a ' separately, while on the other hand the innervation of
1 b ' would always involve that of * a.9 For instance, most
people can move the big toe without innervating the little toe
any great amount, while the movement of the latter generally
involves a strong innervation of the former. Thus we could
have two extreme types of volitional control in one of which
convergence would possess the maximum of strength or impor-
tance, while the accommodation would play the dominant role
in the other. In disassociation, the dominant process would be
subject to volition, while the subordinate, or weakly innervated,
factor would come under the influence of the antagonistic ten-
dency to respond to the objective stimulus. The strength of the
normal connection between the two processes would depend
upon the relative strength of their innervation, an individual
variant and subject to practice and development. Hence the
theory would account for the facts of disassociation, — the two
methods of obtaining it, the varying degrees of disassociative
ability, and the probable effects of practice. One point to be
noted in this theory is that the two types of disassociation also
mean two types of voluntary control over distance adjustments ;
convergence has the maximum of functional importance in one
case, and accommodation in the other. Moreover, the theory
will allow of other degrees of relative importance intervening
between these two extremes.

It is idle to speculate on all the possible causes determining
the development of these types, for they are too numerous.
One deserves to be mentioned, however. The afferent stimu-
lating results of each process might differ with individuals.
One person might be very sensitive to convergent changes and
relatively insensitive to changes in the accommodatory mechan-
ism. This greater afferent stimulus might react so as to em-
phasize the corresponding innervating factor. Whether this
conception is probable or not we do not pretend to say. How-
ever, it is to be noted that most people are the more sensitive to
convergent changes and belong to the type of voluntary control

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE. 273

represented by Hyslop. On the other hand, Miss Allen i^
tremely sensitive to accommodatory changes and relatively in-
sensitive to convergent movements, while accommodation pos-
sesses the maximum of volitional importance in her case.

2. The second main question deals with the relative influence
of accommodation and convergence upon depth. In Hyslop's
case of disassociation the distance of the combined image de-
pended upon the convergence, the image always being located
at the point of intersection of the visual axes. This result is
the exact opposite of that obtained from the two subjects of this
paper. However, the results agree in one respect, — depth is a
function of that process possessing the most volitional impor-
tance and is not effectively influenced by the second, or volition-
ally subordinate process. This statement does not necessarily
mean that the less important process in no way conditions depth,
for it is entirely possible that a process may be one of the neces-
sary conditioning factors of a result and yet in certain situations
its independent variation may cause no appreciable change in
that result. Especially is this true of methods of isolation.

This general problem has been a very prominent one in ex-
perimental psychology. Knowing that depth is a function of
the convergent-accommodatory act, many experimenters 1 have
attempted to evaluate the relative importance of each factor by
some method of isolation. It is not our purpose to discuss and
criticize these papers. We merely wish to point out the fact
that their results do not altogether agree.

Since the tacit assumption seems frequently to have been
made that some definite and normal relationship must exist
applicable to all methods of procedure and to all individuals,
these diverse results have led to an almost hopeless contro-

1 Arrer, « Ueber die Bedeutuug der Convergenz- und Accommodations-bewe-
gungen fiir die Tiefenwahrnehmung,' Phil. Studien., XIII., 116-161, 222-304.
Baird, ' Influence of Accommodation and Convergence upon the Perception of
Depth,' Amer. Jour. Psychol., XIV., 150-200 (admirable re'sume' of important
literature). Dixon, 'On the Relation of Accommodation and Convergence to
our Sense of Depth,' Mind, N. S., IV., 195-212. Hillebrand, 'Das VerhiUtnis
von Accomodation und Konvergenz zur Tiefenlokalisation,' Zcitsch. fur
Psych., VII., 97-151. Also on the same subject, ibid., XVI., 71-151. Wundt,
'Zur Theorie der visuellen Raumwahrnehmung,' Phil. Stud., XIV., i-nS.
Rivers, 'The Apparent Size of Objects,' Mind, N. S., V., 71-80. Discusses
reactions caused by drugs affecting the accommodatory mechanism.

274 HARVEY CARR AND JESSIE B. ALLEN.

versy. The conflict is a result of the assumption. Now
this assumption can be defended upon no a -priori grounds. It
is based merely upon our normal desire for, and habitual expec-
tancy of, uniformity. May the truth not be, as the results indi-
cate, that the relative efficiency of the two processes in determin-
ing depth is an individual variant and hence no uniform results
are to be expected? The problem may belong to the domain
of individual and not general psychology.1 Since there are no
valid reasons for not doing so, let us for the time being accept
these diverse results at their face value.

3. Then we should have the following facts : With two sub-
jects depth is a function of accommodation ; in another case
depth depends upon the convergence and in another set of cases,
the relative efficiency of the two factors varies among individ-
uals. There results can be summarized in the general propo-
sition that the relative influence of accommodation and conver-
gence upon the sense of depth is a wide individual variant,
possibly representing all the intervening stages between the two
extremes.

In regard to the first problem as to the relative volitional
importance of each process in distance adjustments we have a
similar proposition : The relative volitional importance of the
two processes, or the relative strength of their innervation, varies
among individuals between the two extremes.

Not only are the two propositions similar, but we find between
the two series a point of connection for the extremes. In those
cases depth is a function of that process possessing the greater
volitional importance. If we infer that what is true for the
extremes is true for the intervening cases, we have the general
theory that depth is a function of each process in proportion to
its volitional importance, or in proportion to the strength of its
innervating impulse in any particular situation.

This position finds some support from another set of facts.
In a recent article l one of the writers maintained the thesis that
depth is a function of the innervating impulse leading to the
convergent-accommodatory act. It was denied that the con-

1 Cf. Hyslop, 'Psychic Synthesis in Vision,' Mind, XIII., pp. 499-526;
'Some Facts of Binocular Vision,' Mind, XIV., 393-401. Baird, loc. cit.

ACCOMMODATION AND CONVERGENCE. 275

ception shed any light upon, or involved in any way, the
problem of the mutual relative importance of the two assoc!
processes. This reservation was explicitly made in consider-
ation of the experimental results developed in the present paper.
The point to be noted here is the general agreement of that
theory developed from an entirely diverse set of facts with the
present conception, viz., the dependence of depth in some way
upon the innervating, or volitional aspect, of distance adjust-
ments.2 If depth be a function of the impulse innervating the
whole adaptive mechanism, it is by no means an illogical in-
ference to suppose that the innervating elements exercise a rela-
tive functional efficiency upon depth in proportion to their rela-
tive strength, — the theory advanced in this paper.

According to this conception of the normal associative rela-
tion between the two processes, it would follow that their relative
influence upon depth would vary not only among individuals
but also in the same person during the development of ocular
control, with practice, and possibly according to the experi-
mental procedure. The theory not only has a basis in fact but
possesses a functional importance for a further study of this in-
tricate question from a genetic standpoint.3

JCarr, 4A Visual Illusion of Motion During Eye Closure,' PSYCH. REVIEW
— MONOGRAPH SUPPLEMENT, 1906.

2 Cf. for a recent statement of certain facts bearing on the motor-sensa-
tion theories of space perception, Judd, PSYCH. REVIEW, IV., 374-389.

3Tust as the above article was going to press, the writer received a note
from ProfessorS. S. Colvin, of the University of Illinois, regarding a case which
has come under his observation. A friend of his was once afflicted with cataract
in both eyes, and during this period experienced from time to time the phe-
nomenon of objects receding to a great distance. Since the performance of an
operation, this visual peculiarity has entirely disappeared. With the informa-
tion given, the case is subject to various interpretations, but it is certainly sug-
gestive from the standpoint of this article. Through the courtesy of Professor
Colvin, more definite and detailed information is expected. Since the comple-
tion of the MS. several new cases have come to the writer's knowledge, pre-
senting some new details though supporting the main contention of the article.
Some facts indicate that possibly the phenomenon is of more frequent occur-
rence during youth and often disappears with maturity. If this be true, the
subject possesses interest for further observations from the genetic standpoint.

The MS. of this paper was received April 17, '06. — ED.

ILLUSIONS OF REVERSIBLE PERSPECTIVE.

BY DR. ANNA VICHOLKOVSKA.
Lewis Institute^ Chicago.

This is a sketch of a work concerning the optical inversion
that is observable in geometric figures and perspective designs.
The special characteristic of these figures is that they call into
consciousness two or more different interpretations. Thus for
instance, if one fixes the point of intersection of two straight
lines of a hexahedron he perceives it with one of its surfaces
either inclined downward or lifted up, by a corresponding
change of the position of the axis.

The illusory phenomena observed in a great many such
figures have been explained by three different kinds of theories,
namely by psychological, physiological, and psycho-physical
theories.

I. Psychological explanations of the phenomenon are mostly
generalizing conceptions, according to which inversion is a pro-
duct of will, imagination, false judgment, or attention. Wead-
stone,1 for instance, in his critique of the physiological theory of
Necker, maintains that inversion is an effect of intuition. Her-
ing,2 in his ' Physiological Optics ' says that the question of
what kind of inversion will appear is largely a matter of chance
or volition. Helmholtz asserts the same thing. He says that
the perception of perspective figures has its cause in imagination
and especially in the images of memory.3 If I imagine vividly
one or the other form of the figure its apparition is imminent.
Or " we can also produce intentionally a change of inversion,
if we recall vividly the image of its contrary form. When its
resemblance to that of the figure looked at is established, then
the perspective remains stationary without effort." Helmholtz

1 Poggendorfs Annalen, L, 51.

2 Hermann, Handbuch der Physiologic, 580.

3 Physiologische Optik, 771-777.
276

ILLUSIONS OF REVERSIBLE PERSPECTIVE. 277

insists that: "Glancing at a figure we observe spontaneously
one or the other form of perspective and usually the one that is
associated in our memory with the greatest number of images."
But Helmholtz and Hering have called our attention to many
physiological details characterizing inversion. Hering for in-
stance notes that changes of light and shade necessarily tend
to produce such illusion, and he mentions the acceleration of
changes by practice. Helmholtz notes the influence of passive-
ness of the eye in the production of inversion.

II. Two different tendencies are to be noticed in .physiolog-
ical theories : the first regards perspective figures as produced
by changes of a^conimp^dation, the other regards them as pro-
duced strictly by movementj)f the eye. Necker1 after having
denied that inversion could be an effect of will or accident
selected accommodation as its principal cause.

By this he understands the relation existing between differ-
ent points of the observed object and the central and peripheral
parts of the retina. The part of the figure that is perceived
with the fovea is estimated as nearer to the eye, the point ob-
served by the peripheral parts of the retina as more remote.

Plausible as this theory appears, it does not take into account
one of the principal phenomena of inversion, the absence of this
illusion in certain cases of binocular and monocular vision.
Secondly, Necker's theory is not to be considered as an expla-
nation of the phenomena of accommodation, for we know that
the same relations between the observed object and the special
parts of the retina exist quite apart from accommodation.

Many years afterwards Loeb explained inversion by the
same theory of accommodation, but he used it in its real signifi-
cance, namely as innervation of the eye. His theory touches
unquestionably one of the most important conditions of inversion,
but it does not explain all the associated phenomena. For
instance Loeb says that we obtain the impression of concavity
in a perspective figure if the innervation removes the point of
fixation, or that we have the impression of convexity by bring-
ing the eye nearer to the figure. An easy experiment shows

1 Annal. der Physik u. Chemic.

2 Pfluegers Archiv, 1886, 411, 274.

278 ANNA V1CHOLKOVSKA.

however that once we perceive a durable inversion we can
change the accommodation successively and the image of inver-
sion stands still. It is often necessary to open the second eye
in order to escape the persistent illusion.

The most recent of physiological theories is that of W.
Wundt recorded in his work on geometric-optical illusions.
Inversion according to Wundt * is caused by determined move-
ment, consequently by change of points and lines of fixation.
Wundt says : " The image of the retina ought to have a deter-
mined position if a perspective illusion is to appear ; but the
form of this illusion is entirely dependent on motion and direc-
tion of vision." Wundt indicates exactly what points and what
lines ought to be fixed in order to obtain a concave or a convex
form of inversion. Attentive observation proves, however, that
if these movements can actually facilitate inversion they are not
absolutely necessary to its appearance. It escapes the attention
of Wundt that we can observe different forms of inversion as
well if we fix only one and the same point or the same line of

the figure.

We have yet to mention the experiments of Professor Mach,2
of Vienna, which were applied chiefly to solid objects. They
constitute the largest contribution yet made to our knowledge of
the sum of the phenomena of inversion. Thus he observes the
inversion produced by change of intensity in light and shade,
or by different inclinations of the object, and he describes the
phenomena of movement which accompany inversion. But
Mach having described all the sedetails does not explain the
cause producing them.

III. As for the special psycho-physical theories, which make
use of the known facts in the functioning of the nervous system,
they are mostly connected with more or less ingenious psycho-
logical hypotheses that have contributed little to the solution of
the question. Such is for instance the theory of N. Lange,
which explains inversion with the help of attention and of apper-
ception. Lange3 has otherwise the merit of first trying to
measure the rapidity with which the inversion occurs.

1 Die geometrisch-optischen Tduschungen.

2 Beitrdge zur Analyse der Empfindungen, 86, and Wiener Sitzungsberichte
Math.-naturwiss. Classe, 54.

*Phil. Stud., Band IV., 405, 1887.

ILLUSIONS OF KEVEKSIIILE PERSPECTIVE.

279

Because of the lack of a definite solution of the problem of
inversion, a series of new experiments seemed necessary.

i. The first object of these experiments \vas to ascertain the
degree of rapidity with which we perceive inversion in plane
figures. Internal observation has
already permitted us to suppose
this rapidity greater than the rate
of respiration, but slower than that
of the pulse. Consequently the
investigation was made in such a
way as to observe the relation be-
tween the rapidity of inversion and
the frequency of the pulse.

The result that was obtained by
the graphic method, while the ex-
perimenter regarded intensely a plane figure (Fig. i made of
copper wire), proved on the one hand that synchronism between

TABLE I. (Observer A).

FIG. i.

Pulse.

Inversion.

Pulse.

Inversion.

Pulse.

Inversion.

Pulse-

Inversion.

30/X

4/XI

I2/XI

4/XI

9/XI

2/XI

TABLE II. (Observer B).

Pulse.

Inversion.

Pulse.

Inversion.

Pulse.

Inversion.

Pulse.

Inversion.

3°/X

lo/XI

8
3

20/XI

3
45

10
12

5
6

280 ANNA VICHOLKOVSKA.

the two does not exist, the rapidity of inversion being often in-
ferior or superior to the rapidity of the pulse. It confirmed, on
the other hand, what was already proved by internal observa-
tion, that these two rates of rapidity are very nearly the same.

In one person 124 inversions occurred in 174 pulsations ; in
another 260 inversions in 265 pulsations, and 313 inversions in
362 pulsations.

2. The fact that all persons engaged in these experiments
declared positively that they had the feeling of an inward move-
ment of the eye, even during an intense fixation of the indicated
point of the figure, led to a question of a different kind, namely,
what sort of movement it could be. With the help of an

FIG. 2.

ophthalmometer the eye of a myopic person (7 dyoptrics) was
observed. The observations of light images of the external lens
proved that every inversion produced in a plane figure is ac-
companied by a change of refraction. These changes are so
distinct that it was not difficult at all to mark them graphically,
when the observed person marked at the same time the changes
of inversion, having fixed monocularly the hexahedron made of
copper wire (Fig. 2). Of 543 double reactions obtained in this
way, 343 were simultaneous notations of the changes of lumin-
ous images observed by the experimenter in the ophthalmometer
and the notations of inversions by the observer of the hexahe-
dron. In 132 cases this synchronism was dubious; in 68 the
reaction failed completely, a fact which is explained by a de-
crease of attention on the part of the experimenter, or by a dis-
turbing movement of the strongly lighted eye of the observed

ILLUSIONS Or REVERSIBLE PERSPECTIVE. 281

person. Xo series of these experiments lasted longer than a
minute. These numbers proved distinctly the fact that the
inversion of the plane figures can not be realized without a :
ble change of refraction.

3. But while the two preceding series of experiments were
conducted on plane figures, it was necessary to complete them
with experiments made on figures of three dimensions. To this
end were prepared many figures of copper wire and many solid
objects of small size.

But few trials were needed to show that the inversion appe
as well in the case of solid objects as in that of plane figures.
Almost any object can be used to illustrate the inversion ; for
instance, a chair, a round or oval table, a lampshade, an um-
brella— anything.

During these observations four main phenomena have been
found to be characteristic of the inversions : (a) changes in the
intensity of light, in tone of color, and in the form of the ob-
served object, (b) the duration of the illusory image, (c) the
illusory movement, (d) the inclination of the illusory image.
But before we enter into the description of special phenomena
of inversion a few words should be said concerning the differ-
ence of character between the inversion of plane figures and that
of solid. Likewise something should be said about the differ-
ence in physiological conditions that go to produce inversions.

The difference between the plane and the solid figures con-
sists in the fact that the first gives the sensation of two or more
illusory forms, while the other presents but one. For instance :
if we gaze intensely at the point of section of two lines of
Necker's hexahedron, this plane figure appears immediately in
three dimensions, one of its surfaces being inclined downward.
This is the first illusory form. If we continue to fixate the same
point of the figure, we perceive that this first illusory form has
been transformed in such a way that we now see the same hexa-
hedron lifted up. This is the second illusory form. Thus this
inversion consists : (i) Of a passage of the normal sensation of
a plane figure to the sensation of the first illusory form, (2) of
the passage of the first to the second illusory form. But if in-
stead of a perspective design we used a figure of three dimen-

282 ANNA VICHOLKOVSKA.

sions (of copper wire), then, having fixed the same point, we
obtain only one form of illusion. Namely, if we observe an
inclined surface of the figure we perceive the illusion as lifted
up. If on the contrary we observe one that is elevated we have
the illusion of an inclined figure. In both cases the illusion pre-
sents to the eye the passage of a real into an illusory sensation.

In the consideration of this difference of character in the two
inversions we will distinguish, in what will follow, the inversion
with one illusory form from the inversion with two such forms.
The inversion which consists in the passage of 'a normal sensa-
tion to an illusory sensation will be called real-illusory inversion ;
the inversion which is the passage of one to the second illusory
form will be called the pure-illusory inversion. This distinc-
tion is very important, because the physiological conditions nec-
essary to produce both are not quite the same. To obtain a
real-illusory form of inversion in any object or figure, cited
above, it is sufficient to fix intensively and binocularlyone point
of the figure and presently to cover one eye with the hand in
such a way that the eye remains in the greatest possible tran-
quillity. The inversion will not fail to appear in these condi-
tions, and the degree of the passivity of the eye will decide
the rapidity with which the inversion occurs. This effect can
still further be facilitated by inhibition of all efforts to perceive
the real dimensions of the object. The case is not the same in
the inversion with double illusory form in plane figures. When
the gaze is fixed in the same way they show the inversion
marked by transition from a real to an illusory sensation, but
they do not produce the passage of one to the other purely illu-
sory inversion, unless there is either a movement of the ocular
globe (Wundt's method) or a change of accommodation (Necker
and Loeb) confirmed by the ophthalmometric observations of
this essay. But by following either of these methods wre can
easily evoke both the forms of inversion above mentioned.

We now return to the description of the four kinds of phe-
nomena, mentioned above, that characterize inversion.

(a) In the first place we have to do with the changes in the
intensity of light, the shade of color, and the form of the ob-
served object. All these details can easily be followed by using

ILLUSIONS OF REVERSIBLE PERSPECTIVE. 283

a visiting card in the same way as it was used by Mach. If
this card, being first bent in the middle, is li. \ated monocularly at
a point of its concave surface, we perceive it immediately as an
illusory convex card. The illuminated part of the figure is now
much more brilliant, the shadow deeper than it was in the mo-
ment preceding the inversion, or, strictly speaking, in the moment
preceding the closing of the eye.

The shadowed part changes at the same time in color, pass-
ing through various tones, from gray or brown to yellowish-
green. This is especially noticeable if we change the position
of the head without altering the point of fixation. Given the
same conditions the form of the card is modified again.

(/;) The real-illusory image acquires a certain duration, dilli-
cult to maintain in the plane figure, but very easy in the figure
of three dimensions. So for instance the inversion of a concave
cone, made of copper wire, does not disappear when observed
monocularly, even or when the observer retires and re-ap-
proaches a distance of a few meters ; or when the point of fixa-
tion is changed, or when the observer lays down or takes up his
glasses, or even when the observer closes the eye for 2-5 sec-
onds. As soon as the eye is opened the inversion reappears
again.

(3) Illusory movement is the third characteristic phenomenon
of inversion. It can be observed in both the plane and the solid
figure. If an illusory image attains a certain duration in the
consciousness, nothing is easier than to put it in an illusory mo-
tion. This result can be obtained by quietly changing the posi-
tion of the head in any direction. The retinal image then changes
exactly as it would change if the observed object were in move-
ment. If we observe for instance the illusory image of a con-
cave cone while the gaze is fixed on the central point of the fig-
ure, the illusory image will be like that in (a) Fig. 3. As soon
however as the position of the head is directed to right or left,
upward or downward, the image will appear in quite other per-
spective, such as (6) and (c).

Supposing now this movement is very slow and progressive.
Then the sensation given by one point of view will join with
that given by another point of view, etc. ; we perceive the ob-

284 ANNA VICHOLKOVSKA.

ject in a synthesis of successive phases, consequently in what
seems continuous movement. But if the illusion is to be per-
fect, it is necessary to change the angle of vision carefully and

b) a) c)

FIG. 3.

systematically, the gaze being strictly vis-a-vis to the observed
figure. That is to say, the line that joins the fovea with the
fixed point of the object must be the radius of a circle in which
the head moves. The ciliary muscles should be entirely pas-
sive. (In order to facilitate this circular movement, a circle
was made on the floor with chalk around the table which sus-
tained the figure.) Under these conditions all the perspective
phases of the illusory image display themselves freely, from the
first front view to the extreme right or left view, where the
illusory image attains the maximum of abbreviation, before it
disappears completely. This passage from the maximum ab-
breviation of the image to complete disappearance is very char-
acteristic, because once coming to this maximal point our atten-
tion finds itself in a moment of doubt, whether the observed
image is an illusion or a reality. But having advanced a little
in the same circular direction we are reassured on this point.
We then feel a kind of start in the eye produced by the disap-
pearance of inversion and particularly of the illusory movement
and the apparition of the real object remaining in the same
place as before.

(c) The illusory movement in the plane figures (of copper
wire) can easily be observed if one acquires a certain facility in
preserving a durable inversion. So, for instance (Fig. 4), if the
observer places himself at point (a) (nearly 60° from the line
b-b^) of the circular line that surrounds the Necker's plane fig-
ure of copper wire, he has to fix monocularly the point marked

ILLUSIONS OF REVERSIBLE PERSPECTIVE.

with a small cross and then to cover the second eye with the
hand. He will obtain immediately the illusory image, namely,
the illusion of a lifted hexahedron.

Having succeeded in making this illusion durable we have
to follow very slowly and quietly the circular way from a to br
The image of inversion passes during this time through a series
of perspective phases, but, strange to say, these changes do not
develop themselves in the same way throughout the arc.

FIG. 5.

From a to c we observe the well-known changes of per-
spective phases, but from c to bl the perspective phases disap-
pear at once and we are startled with an image of the entire
plane figure that displays a movement of rotation around its
axis, which axis is formed by one of the lateral sides produced.
Now the entire figure moves like a door on its hinge. This
movement propagates itself without interruption if we continue
the movement of the head forward and downward between
c and b. During these observations the figure appears con-
tinually as displaced, and this displacement is determined by
the point held by the eye. If the eye is for instance in the
point c 30° from the line b-bl the figure takes the direction of
d-bl and so forth.

We can perceive the same illusion in many other figures,
such as Fig. 5 (which must be fixated in the middle point of a
lateral line, as a).

(d) There remains now the description of a most important
phenomenon of inversion, namely, the inclination of the illu-
sory image. This inclination is again in direct connection with

2S6

ANNA VICHOLKOVSKA.

the position of the eye in reference to the observed object. If
one fixates binocularly and intensely a bent visiting card in its cen-
tral point for instance, in such a way that the line joining the
fixed point of the object with the fovea forms a horizontal radius
of a circle, he obtains after having covered the second eye with
the hand an illusory superficial image which is nearly plane and
without any inclination. We mark this point of departure in
the movement of the head by the letter x (Fig. 6). Immediately
if the eye is moved one degree up or down
from the horizontal line, the same point be-
ing fixed, we obtain an illusory image of a
slight inclination. These two points are
marked on the figure with the letters m-m.
If we continue now to move the head in
the same circular direction from downward
to upward, we come successively to the
point r, rl9 r2of the circumference. At the
same time the card changes its inclination
in direct relation to the displacement of the
eye. That means that to the movement
of the head a, al9 a2, corresponds the inclination of the card in
r, rl9 r2. Once arrived to the point xl all illusion disappears.
It attains its maximum at the point mr The eye traverses in this
way 90° from the outset of its displacement (x) until it attains
the point xl ; the card in the same time performs a movement
of 180° around its horizontal axis. Beginning from the point
m with a minimal inclination the card sinks more and more back-
wards, until all its points between e and b fall upon a horizontal
line. The eye in this length of time traverses 45°, the card
90°. Then the card rises with the point e until it assumes an up-
right position at 3. Meanwhile the eye again traverses 45 °, while
the card has completed the 180°. But if before reaching the
point xl we arrest the eye at the point of the maximum of incli-
nation in the card ml9 we can now proceed in the opposite direc-
tion, and the illusory image will pass successively again through
all the phases of inclination r, rl9 r29 and come to the point x9
at which the illusory image is nearly plane.

Similar changes of inclination can be made to appear by

FIG. 6.

ILLUSIONS OF REVERSIBLE PERSPECTIVE. 287

changing the point of vision in the right or the left direction.
These phenomena may be corroborated by observing a concave
card instead of a convex one. Here as in the preceding case
are to be noticed : (i) The point at which the inversion is nearly
plane and that at which it disappears completely (*•, ,*•,); (2)
The points of maximum and minimum inclination r, rr

These relations will be the same if instead of moving the
head upon a circular line, we observe the object during its rota-
tion around a horizontal axis. The direction however of the
movement of the card will be changed : if we move it down-
ward we see rotation in the opposite direction.

These experiments ...prove that the relation between the jQaoyje-
ment of the head and the inclinations of the illusory imam- i> I
fixed relation. The inclination of the illusory image is a
function of the angle at which the eye observes the object.

Summarizing the results obtained from these experiments,
we observe :

1. That the maximum of rapidity of inversion is nearly the
same as the frequency of the pulse, though the relation is not
functional.

2. Inversion in plane figures does not appear without a
change of refraction.

3. We have to distinguish real-illusory inversion, and a pure-
illusory inversion which involves different physiological con-
ditions.

4. Inversion appears in plane as well as in solid figures, and
is accompanied by four distinct phenomena: (a) changes in the
intensity of light, in the tone of color and in the form of the
observed object ; (£) duration in the illusory image ; (r) move-
ment of the illusory image ; (d) inclination, which is a function
of the angle at which the eye observes the object. These ob-
servations as well as the corresponding experiments permit us to
explain the phenomena of inversion in the following way.

It is certain that the cause of inversion consists in the rela-
tion between the observed object and the central and peripheral
parts of the retina in which the image of the object produces
itself. The points that fall upon the fovea are estimated more
distinctly and consequently as nearer to the eye ; those on the

288 ANNA VICHOLKOVSKA.

contrary that fall upon the peripheral parts, being less distinct,
are considered as more remote.

These relations however are not sufficient to explain all the
phenomena of inversion (its absence, for instance, in many cases
of binocular or monocular vision) unless we take account of a
certain irregularity of the vision when this illusion occurs.

The perception of an exterior object in its three dimensions
can generally be the effect of binocular or monocular vision.
In the binocular vision, as we know, the image of the retina, of
the left eye for instance, is completed and controlled by the
image of the right retina. Accordingly the cooperation of
these two images, and at the same time the influence of accom-
modation and especially of convergence produce a normal
representation of an object in space.

It is the same in monocular vision. We get no impression
of the depth of an object with only one image of the retina,
but only by two or more successive images of the same retina
that complete and control each other. The representation of
the object therefore is a result of two retinal images produced
by the rays of light coming from two opposite directions.

It is quite different in the case of the illusion that we speak
of. If we fix the object after closing one eye and by trying
to immobilize it as much as possible, we suppress at the same
time the control necessary to perceive the dimensions of the
object. Closing one eye, we suppress the simultaneous image
of the second retina ; making the eye immobile during the
monocular vision, we eliminate the successive image of the
same retina. In this case therefore the part of the object that
falls upon the central parts of the retina or upon its peripheral
part are not completed and controlled by the simultaneous or
successive images of it, the principal condition of a normal sen-
sation. This stop of a regular progress of the visual function,
suppressing the mutual compensation of images, is the principal
cause of inversion.

It is clear now that a certain position of the eye is sufficient
to produce one illusory form, the necessary correspondence be-
tween the parts of object and of the retina being given. But
if we wish to pass from one to the other illusory form, it is

ILLUSIONS OF REVERSIBLE PERSPECT1\ I 289

necessary that the point of the object falling in the first case
upon the central part of the retina should fall in the second
upon the peripheral part and vice-versa. And this can not ap-
pear without the help of movement of the ocular globe or oi
changes of accommodation. For this reason it is sufficient to
close the eye and to immobilize it to perceive the real-illusoi v
inversion, but it is necessary to change the accommodation or
the position of the eye if one attempts to pass from one to an^»
other illusory form. But it is absolutely indifferent to the eye
what means are chosen for producing inversion of a double
form. It may be a change of accommodation, such as Neck<
and Loeb employed, or such reflex changes as were the case in
our ophthalmometrical experiments, or the movement of the ocular
globe used by Wundt. This is of no importance : any proceed-
ing is acceptable which facilitates the passage of the rays from
an object once on the central part to another on the peripheral
part of the retina. It is indifferent to the eye again that this
change is produced in a passive way, changing the relation be-
tween the object and the eye, or in an active way, by placing
the eye in a necessary condition.

Three capital facts make for this theory : (i) The inversion
appears even when the ciliary muscle is immobilized with
atropin (experiment made by Loeb). (2) The inversion can be
summoned binocularly every time that the eyes are in the con- \
dition to observe simultaneously two images. (This experi-
ment was made by observing a remote point of a small chair
made of copper wire. Two chairs were seen together with an
inverted image.) (3) The duration of the illusory image that
persisted notwithstanding the changes of accommodation or
movement of the ocular globe.

Finally, this theory explains all the phenomena characteristic
of inversion, (a) The rapidity of inversion that was graphically
measured was, as is now easily shown, a measure of the pas-
sage from one to the other illusory form. And because this
passage does not appear except through a movement of the eye
or of a change of accommodation this rapidity consequently is
proportional to the rapidity of these movements or to this change
of accommodation. In reference to inversion in figures of three

290 ANNA VICHOLKOVSKA.

dimensions the rapidity ceases to be characteristic, because the
illusory image in this case can attain any duration.

(£) Again the duration of the image can be explained with-
out difficulty. Because the inversion of an illusory form consists
in a kind of stopping of the normal function of the eye, there is
no reason why it should not persist as long as this irregularity
lasts. In accordance with this, if one closes one eye to call up
an inversion in a plane figure and endeavors to stop the movement
of the eye necessary to evoke the passage of one to another illu-
sory form, he obtains a durable inversion in the plane figure
again.

(c) In reference to the typical movement and inclinations of
the illusory image it is clear after what has been said, that succes-
sive positions of the eye, produced passively by the movement
of the head without change of relation between a certain part of
the object and the central and peripheral part of the retina, in-
volve a continual change in the perspective of the retinal images.
There is produced in the eye, under the influence of these suc-
cessive displacements of the retinal image, a phenomenon nearly
identical with what appears in such apparatus as the stroboscope
or the cinematograph.

The only difference between these two phenomena consists
in this : the stroboscope, being in possession of perspective
images of an object in motion that were photographed from a
central point but in different radia of the circle, supplies the
means necessary to call into consciousness the synthesis of these
images. But the images that are produced successively in the
retina while the eye is displaced in different points of the peri-
phery of the circle by the movement of the head, are, so to
speak, successively photographed at different angles for the
retina to produce a synthesis of an object in movement. Ac-
cordingly we can say the eye represents in this condition a liv-
ing stroboscope.1

1 The MS. of this article was received November 10, 1905. — ED.

N. S. VOL. XIII. No. 5. September, 1906.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST (II.).

BY FELIX ARNOLD,
New York.

III.

It is seen from the above that interest is most generally con-
sidered as a feeling and that it is closely connected in some
manner with attention. In this section I shall try definitely to
establish the relation between interest and feeling, between in-
terest and attention, and to show wherein interest itself consists.

First of all, is interest nothing more than a feeling of pleasure-
pain ? To make interest a feeling of this kind would be to estab-
lish an identity between interest and pleasure-pain. If this were
so, then pleasure roused by an object would be interest in such
object, and interest in it would likewise be pleasure in it, to
take the positive aspect of the case. This, however, is by no
means so. There may exist, for example, an interest for me
in the preparations for dinner, but in the actual process of eat-
ing there would perhaps be a pleasure, but hardly an interest
in the eating, -per se. In the preparations I see good things to
eat, ple.asant company, an opportunity to expand and bring out
my social worth, etc. In the process of eating as such, these
various ideas become realized, producing pleasure. A rhythmic
thrill of delight is felt in a present moment, is confined to the
present, but if it has no other reference, it can have no interest.
An object, perhaps displeasing in itself, but which is a means
of producing such a thrill, will have an interest for me on that
account. We are so used to consider everything of interest
with which one is occupied, that pleasure-pain as a self-sufficient

291

292 FELIX ARNOLD.

means of stimulation seems to be overlooked. To take the illus-
tration above, of eating. If the processes have in them no
reference to some future condition, the interest nears its end,
and the pleasure begins. There is then pleasure and nothing
else. It is confined to, and ends in the present. As Baldwin
says, " We would hardly say that an oyster is interested when
a sharp instrument is thrust painfully between its shells. The
intrusion affects him, and it is in his interest to avoid it ; but it
is truer to say that it hurts than that it interests him."1 Where,
as in secondary interest, there is an interest in some means
because of their connection with a pleasurable or painful end,
there need be no pleasure in the means at all times because of
such connection. This would make life « one long sweet dream.'
We might say that interest is potential pleasure in that it may
so end, but potential pleasure or pain is not the actual feeling.
And a potential interest would be an interest which, when actually
existing, would tend to realize a potential pleasure, this pleasure,
however, being twice removed from the potential interest, and
once from the interest as actually existing.

Pleasure-pain, however, is closely connected with interest
from a genetic standpoint. Suppose a given situation, through
difference, change or pleasure-pain, to produce in me a series
of reactions to such situation. As the result of my experience
with such situation, my reconstruction of such situation will take
a certain form. The situation will mean to me the possibility
of again reaching the condition which was reached in the first
experience. It will be the means of my attaining a certain
state which I have already experienced. As such it will have
for me a certain interest. Ideally there will exist as the result
of my reconstruction, a system of ideas, a mental disposition,
which will act as a guide to my reaction in a similar situation,
while at the same time there will be a tendency serially to go
through the reactions which will produce the state or a similar
state to the one experienced. If not through direct motor con-
trol, then through imitation of another who has gone through a
similar process, my attitude will be directed to situations similar
in kind. The situation and the objects concerned then point

^Feeling and Will, p. 143.

THE I^SYCIIOLOGY OF INTEREST. 293

beyond themselves, and acquire a value because of their con-
nection with a future condition which is possible through them.
Pleasure-pain may be a starting point, as may also in
reactions, but they are not on this account, interests, as such.

Similarly interest, though closely connected with attention,
is not attention. Perhaps to bring this out it may be advisable
to give briefly the state of affairs as present in a moment of
attention. Control and development of any situation demands
a fixation of the objects concerned, a narrowing of the field under
manipulation, a more definite and accurate series of adjustments,
a more refined reaction, a higher degree of delicacy in inter
tation, a finer * feel ' or body attitude, in short, attention. Sev-
eral aspects in attention may be pointed out, some of which
have, at different times, been unduly emphasized. If we consider
the given situation in its more objective aspect, we find an in-
crease in the clearness and distinctness of the field. This gives
us the ' Blickpunkt ' view of attention.1 If on the other hand, we
consider only the residual effects on the self-concerned, we find
that there is developed a disposition or system of mental ele-
ments, which tend serially to realize themselves in moments of
attention to objects connected with them. These ideation masses
serve as reinforcing agents in the process.2 The actual process
of adjustment and control, the manipulation and working over
of the various parts of the situation constitute the motor aspects
of attention.3 Attention may therefore be defined as a process
of adjustment and control, such adjustment and control in its
advanced stages being guided by an ideational content and body-
attitude, resulting in a narrowing and illuminating of the field
concerned.

1 See Kant, Anthropologie , g 8, Wundt, Grundziige, III., pp. 333-339, Jodl,
Lehrbuch, III., p. 74, and Titchener, Experimental Psychology, I., Pt. II., p.
189.

2SeeKohn, 'ZurTheorie der Aufmerksamkeit,' Abhandlungen cur Phi-
losophic und ihrer Geschichte, 1895, and Bradley, ' Is There any Special Activity
of Attention ? ' Mind, O. S., u, 1886, and 'On Active Attention,' Mind, N. S.,
u, 1902.

3 See Ribot, The Psychology of Attention, Miinsterberg, Bcitrage% Heft 2,
p. 121 ; Lange, ' Beitriige zur Theorie dcr sinnlichen Aufmerksamkeit,' Philo-
sophische Studien, 4, 1888, and Baldwin, Mental Development, Ch. XV. andCh.
X., Sec. 3.

294 FELIX ARNOLD.

The relation of interest to this process is one of concomitance
only. The state of clearness is not the interest, nor is the actual
process of motor control. Interest is rather what gives the
moving impulse to the process in question ; it is the means of
determining whether or not such process be initiated. Or rather
it is one of the means, the other being actual pleasure-pain or
instinctive reaction. For example we may suppose a farmer and
a hunter simultaneously watching a hawk. The attention may
be equal in degree, but the interest is somewhat different in each
case. The hunter takes a certain attitude, this attitude being
determined by a certain ideational content. In so far as the
situation points to the future there is interest. In so far as there
is control in the present there is attention. The farmer takes
another attitude and for a different reason, though his control
may be of a similar nature to that of the hunter. The hunter
sees in the hawk the possibility of bagging some game, of
probable congratulations on his marksmanship, of a feeling of
expansion due to success, and the like. The farmer sees in the
hawk possible damage to his poultry, means of avoiding this,
and the like. Both are equally attentive or may be. Each has
a similar control of the situation. But the impelling interest in
each is very different. It might be said that since both are
interested in the same thing, their interests are the same. But
the occasion of the interest is not the interest. The different
meanings attached, the difference in the guiding ideational con-
tents, would preclude such a possibility. We may also attend
to the same thing, but the attention need not therefore be the
same in each case. We can, however, suppose that the con-
trols in each case are about alike, that there is an approximately
equal narrowing and illuminating of the field in question. From
the nature of the given illustration such a supposition can hardly
be made as regards the interests concerned.

My object thus far has been rather negative ; to show what
interest is not ; to emphasize the fact that it is incorrect to identify
interest either with pleasure-pain on the one hand or with atten-
tion on the other. I shall now attempt more closely to deal
with the aspects of interest as they exist in foundation situations,
dealing with them as conative and as cognitive. I shall deal

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 295

with each aspect separately for convenience, though both are,
in greater or less degree, always existent together.

When I am interested in anything, I take a certain attitude
towards it. I have a tendency serially to realize a set of
reactions which will give me a more or less perfect control of
the situation, and which will result in a certain state, at present
in a more or less ideal form. The object or objects concerned
mean for me a certain condition of the self. If the object
pleases and carries with it no future reference, there may be
pleasure but no interest. In the latter case the striving for the
realization of a future state has vanished ; the interest has dis-
appeared. To illustrate : I have before me a highly colored
chromo, of the kind usually given away for soap coupons.
Horrible dictu, I take some pleasure in looking at the combina-
tion of colors, at the action expressed, and the like. I have
little interest in it, however, interest here being used in a tech-
nical sense. On the other hand, I turn my attention to a small
dirty cardboard calendar having on it in small print all the
months, and through some of the days of the month of July
small black crosses made in pencil. I look at this with interest,
it has interest for me, for on each of the days in question I hope
to engage in certain pursuits, to meet certain people, to do
certain things. I anticipate a certain future condition of the
self in which I shall realize a certain thrill of pleasure. I take
an attitude towards the calendar which is due to. the significa-
tion it has in connection with a future state of the self. But I
do not consider it a thing of beauty in itself, and when it has
served its purpose I shall throw it away. Similar interest t
for a person in a railroad time-table. Pleasure exists for a
child in going through a picture book. This is why so much
of the illustration of books for children, and so much class-room
decoration loses its full value. They have only the incentive
of pleasure, without any accompanying interest. We cannot
say that the interest is future pleasure, for the interest is now, it
exists in the present, and is a fact, whereas the future pleasure
is not, it is something which may may exist, but it has no
present existence and therefore it is not. The idea of the future
state may be present in a more or less dim form, and if so it is

296 FELIX ARNOLD.

something added to the attitude present, and serves to guide
such attitude.

By feeling attitude I do not mean an attitude felt as pleas-
ure-pain, or a feeling of pleasure-pain, as Stout does. The
attitude which is taken is a gradual development and is the
result of reactions in a given situation. When I see an object
which is not connected with my former experiences, and which
may or may not threaten danger, but which none the less dis-
turbs me in some manner, I react towards it a certain way. I
examine it, touch it, feel h% test it in a number of ways, go
through a series of reactions. After I have on different occa-
sions done this a number of times, I stamp the object or the sit-
uation as something to be treated a certain way. It acquires
for me a certain meaning. Now, upon meeting with such
object once more, if I do not go through the whole series of
reactions I tend so to do. I take a certain body attitude which
is felt, and which may be called a feeling attitude, conative
tendency, or what not. If I wish to realize such implicit reac-
tive series, if I wish to develop the meaning of the object con-
cerned, I go through the entire process of serial reaction, in
whole or in part. Whether the object is a word or a symbol,
or a * concrete' object, the same holds. Various objects have
for me a certain worth, and the consciousness of such worth is
the result not only of my personal experience through direct
manipulation, but of whatever indirect experience streams in,
from the school, the home, the social environment, and the like.
All such indirect experience, of course, must be interpreted in
terms of what I have actually undergone. I thus may take an
attitude towards some ideal end which I feel is closely con-
nected with my welfare, i. e., I may tend to go through certain
reactions in virtue of such ideal end. The meaning or felt
worth of an object is simply consciousness of the attitude roused
by such object. An object has worth because it ' hits ' me a
certain way, and I am accustomed to call an object ' of worth/
to stamp it with meaning when I am affected in such a manner.
This feeling is due to the attitude taken, such attitude being the
tendency to go through some reaction or series of reactions.

In interest, the attitude is not only the attitude caused by the

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 297

object per se, but it is something more. The object as such
produces a tendency to go through a series of reactions which
will give a more or less perfect motor control. In addition,
there is always a tendency serially to realize reactions which
will arise when the future condition is reached, and to which
the present situation is a means. It is this latter tendency and
attitude which in a large degree determines the series of reac-
tions iu the attempted motor control. Such tendency is felt as
striving, appetition, conation, as interest.

Now the striving to have direction has with it a more or less
definite cognitive element. The future condition in order to fee
realized must exist in some ideal form, as a mental disposition,
a system of ideal elements, or simply as * meaning ' undifferen-
tiated and inchoate. This cognitive clement may be present in
very dim form, in fact may seem lost in the presentation exist-
ing, may exist only as a fringe, as a meaning in the given situ-
ation, as general awareness. Unless, however, some cognitive
element is present, no future reference is possible and no inter-
est can exist. Interest on its cognitive side is the special signi-
fication which an object or idea has with reference to some
future condition of the self, the special meaning in this connec-
tion which is attached. During the process of realization this
ideal element may assume a serial arrangement, may become
explicated in a series affording a guide to the reactions involved.
/;/ a more advanced state the ideal element takes the form of a
more or less definite system of ideas, such ideas being excited by
the situation in question, and being necessary for more perfect
motor control.

' Reference to the self ' may need some further explanation.
Anything which is connected with me in any pleasure-pain rela-
tion has reference to me, is connected with my future welfare
and to a great extent determines my future attitude. Take for
example, the given situation in a man's business. With this
are usually associated for example, * building,' * fixtures,' *safe,'
« wares,' * telephone' and the like. This however is the state
of affairs as interpreted by a social average. Any business
may have these various things. But A's business would mean
to him in addition, * food,' * luxuries,' * home,' * ease,' etc., all

298 FELIX ARNOLD.

of which are to be enjoyed by A. If we take in ^4's family as
participants, we come back in the end to A. They enjoy the
different things and in turn are enjoyed on the average by A.
If A is working to feed the multitude, the interest exisiting
must be connected with the self. ^4's determining pleasure,
satisfaction, feeling of expansion, of quiescence or what not
would consist in seeing the multitude happy, or in seeing them
not-miserable. This would determine his attitude. His in-
terest on its cognitive side would be the meaning existing for
him in the situation under control, in the ideas or systems of
ideas determined thereby, the thoughts of the multitude in
various states or reactions, of their happiness due to his kind-
ness, of the opportunity they give him for social expansion, and
the like. On the conative side would be the attitude caused by
the situation as actually before him, and as mentally idealized.
Were the self not concerned, A would probably let the multi-
tude starve, as in fact he does (*'. £., he is all of us) when the
situation is too far off, as in central Africa, or elsewhere.
Altruism in the end reverts to the self, for we cannot abnegate
nature. Selfish interest is so-called because only the self seems
to be concerned. But as a matter of fact, * disinterestedness '
is nothing but a form of interest, an interest in which the various
socii benefit. In fact it is the selfishness of these socti, a selfish-
ness which sees only the benefit which accrues to thcm^ and which
neglects the feeling of the generous individual concerned, that
stamps an act as disinterested. (The various socii are again, all
of us.)

While in interest there may be the thought or the awareness
of some state or reaction which is to be experienced by the self,
and on account of which the self takes a certain attitude, it may
also on its cognitive side be the thought or awareness of some
state or reaction which is to be avoided by the self. For example,
we maybe interested in the movements of a rattlesnake, because
such movements mean possible danger, a bite from the beast,
pain from poisoning, and the like. We have a negative interest
as it were. If merely a feeling of alarm is present, there is not
interest, but simply feeling in the present. In the example
given in the preceding paragraph, A was supposed to enjoy his

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 299

family. On the other hand he may hate them and still allow
them to enjoy the fruits of his labor. In such a case he would
have a negative interest as far as his family is concerned. A
would see in his family the possibility of a disturbance of his
social equilibrium, of dissatisfaction due to interference with his
habitual method of living, of probable effort in readjustment
should trouble come, and so on. As we usually say, A is, in
such a case, interested in keeping the family peace. His atti-
tude would be the tendency to avoid such a state of affairs, while
the guiding aim would be the thought or awareness of the future
state in question.

Any situation involving interest is thus seen to be connected
with the future of the self concerned. Cut away all reference
to the future and no interest is possible. Similarly remove all
reference to the self and interest likewise will disappear. For
example, a newly elected president of a rapid transit company
is reported to have said, ' all the interest'the people have in me
is how much they are going to get for a nickel.' In this he was
correct. The public were not concerned in him as an aesthetic
production, as a pleasure-producing object. They were inter-
ested in him because they saw in him the possibility of influenc-
ing them in some more or less definite manner in the future.

Interest in general may be defined as a body attitude, point-
ing ahead and to the future, such attitude tending towards serial
explication under guidance of a concomitant ideational content ,
to -which content it gives meaning. And by the series of ten-
dencies or actual adjustments involved in the motor control of
the situation concerned fuller meaning and wider content mav
be acquired. On its ideational side, the present moment need
not be a single idea, but it may be an entire disposition, a more
or less finished system, or on the contrary, simple a-varcnc<s*
fringe of meaning. Given in outline we should have the
following :

300 FELIX ARNOLD.

INTEREST

y \

Conative Cognitive

Felt body attitude, excited i. Simple awareness, in
by a given situation, and which the meaning is

guided by the ideational merged in the pres-

content referring to the entation.

future. 2. Single idea or image of

a future state.
3. System of ideas pres-
ent as a disposition,
and when explicated
existing in a series.

As an example we have, of the first case, a situation in which
the future reference is merged in the presentation, in which it
is present as simple awareness, e. g.9 an individual observing
the behavior of a spider constructing its web ; of the second
case a situation in which a more or less definite image or idea is
present, e. g., a little boy with the idea of a toy which he is to
possess, and interested on that account in a task or bit of work ;
of the third, a situation in which an entire disposition is involved
which disposition may become serially explicated ; the higher
type of mental activity directed to an end, e. g.9 a general plan-
ning a battle, the end guiding the direction of thought. Of
the various forms which interest takes the more important are
desire, expectation and curiosity. Of the degrees of develop-
ment in interest there are the stages of primary interest, sec-
ondary interest and acquired interest. The laws determining
interest I shall reserve for the final paragraphs.1

Most German psychologists consider will merely as a form
of striving, a feeling of appetition, of ' Lust ' or < Streben ' result-
ing in a volition. This is the state of affairs in desire. Desire

1 The fact that simple awareness is a cognitive aspect which may have future
reference has been overlooked by the Herbartians who deal only with ideas and
systems of ideas. Another point may here be brought out. Where a series of
ideas has no future reference, they may be « pleasing ' but they are not ' inter-
esting.' In fact the person concerned does not take that attitude towards them,
though an outside observer may consider the individual in a reverie, as ' inter-
ested. ' Fastness need not shut out possibility of future reference, and in
fact ' pastness ' from a psychological standpoint is simply an aspect of the
present. And where the aspect has future reference, interest exists, but where
the future reference is absent no interest is possible. I have touched upon this
aspect in the PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN of November, 1905 (Vol. II., pp.
367-368).

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 301

is essentially ideological. We always strive towards something
which is beyond our reach either to gain an end, to reach a con-
dition of pleasure, of expansion, of quiescence on the one /Kind,
or to ai'oid a condition of pain, of depression or of strain on
the other. With reference to the former state of affairs we have
a form of striving called appetition, with reference to the latter,
aversion ; but the striving is there none the less. If I possess
that something,, then it evidently is not necessary for me to strive
towards it. Desire has in it to a high degree the conative ten-
dency or feeling attitude, though there is a more or less definite
cognitive content. In a simple case, when an object is before
me but beyond my reach, that is, when I am unable to control
it, I strive so to do. I desire the object, that is, I wish to realize
some future condition of the self which has been experienced
before. This feeling of striving is present more strongly than
usual in the common forms of interest, and is felt as conative
tendency, as impulse, as appetition or aversion. When I desire
something which is to be controlled by me, subject to certain
conditions, I set about to remove certain obstacles, to do some-
thing, or actively engage so to do. I am unable to realize
an attitude, a condition, a future state only ideally existent, be-
cause of obstructions which prevent this ideal content from be-
coming a fact. Hence my feeling of desire persists and my
efforts continue. The interest in such cases is the feeling of
' Streben ' plus the guiding and directing cognitive content, the
conative aspect being the more prominent. When, however,
the desire becomes so great as to overwhelm all future refer-
ence, and is felt simply as feeling in the present, the interest
disappears, swamped in a flood of feeling. This often happens
when a desire for a certain object becomes an end in itself, the
object being entirely forgotten in the process. When I actively
engage in the doing of what is necessary to bring me nearer to
the future condition or the motor control ideally existing, I
have the process of volition, and this volition is in part the in-
terest, so long as the striving continues, until the end is reached.
In expectation there is an awareness or an image or an idea
of something more or less known which is to affect us in a more
or less definite manner and towards which in the present we take

302 FELIX ARNOLD.

an attitude. The conative and the cognitive elements balance
about evenly. The future condition existing in the awareness
or in some cognitive content influences my present condition
rather strongly, but not to so great an extent as to drown out or
to predominate over my present state. Where the ' something
expected ' is clearly known, my attitude towards this future
state or control may be rather definite and constant, the expec-
tation becoming realized on the arrival of the future moment
with all that it has for me. Where the * something expected*
is not so definitely known, imagination supplies what is needed,
guided, if necessary, by the existing situation, aspects of the
situation, etc., whether ideal or real. For example, a hunter in
a forest on the watch for game may expect something, he is not
quite sure what ; but his cognition of this ' something ' is more
or less conditioned by his surroundings, etc. He will hardly
expect elephants if in Canada, or polar bears if in Florida.
Interest is evidently present, for we have the attitude towards
some future state of the self which is to be realized, and a
guiding cognitive content.

Expectation and desire both refer to the future, have in them
each a strong conative attitude, and as such are forms of interest.
They may, however, be differentiated. In expectation, the only
obstruction to the realization of my future state is either time, or
the action or non-action of some other person. Expectation is
essentially a static aspect of the situation as far as I am con-
cerned. I cannot struggle ; I can do nothing to bring about
this realization more quickly, as expectant; I may set about to
influence the other determining individual, or read to kill time,
but this has nothing to do with the expectation -per se and as a
felt moment of interest. In desire, on the contrary, there is an
active struggle to remove the obstacles to the realization of the
future state, a more or less strenuous reaction. Desire is rather
a dynamic aspect of the situation as far as the self is concerned.
Desire must not be confused with mere * wish.' In desire the
feeling-attitude is emphasized at the expense of the cognitive
elements, and may at times even suppress the latter. In this
latter case it becomes simply a present feeling.

Where interest exists in a situation more or less known and

THE PSYCHOLOGT OF INTEREST. 303

when we do not know exactly in what way such situation \vill
affect us, we imagine from our past experience how it might
influence us, what future state may be produced. Such interest
is curiosity. Curiosity, therefore, consists in an attitude deter-
mined by a cognitive content excited by a partially unknown
situation, for the purpose of securing more perfect control of
the situation in question. We desire further knowledge that
better reaction and control be possible. The self is concerned,
an attitude is taken because of the influence which the present
situation may have on the future. Interest is present. The
relation of the partially unknown object or situation to our
future welfare is not sufficiently known, hence the object or sit-
uation possesses an interest for us, a tentative interest, as it were.
Such interest becomes a more or less permanent one when the
actual signification of the object for the future condition of the
self becomes more fully known. Such tentative interest disap-
pears when further reaction and knowledge show that no or
little reference to the self is present, or when the curiosity be-
comes satisfied, /'. £., when the ideal state becomes realized.
Novelty may cause curiosity, but it is neither the curiosity nor
the interest. Curiosity is therefore an interest of a certain kind,
a tentative interest, as has been said. When the relation be-
tween the self and the object or situation becomes more fully
known, the interest either becomes a more or less permanent
one, or else it disappears altogether. That is why curiosity is
such a dangerous incentive to appeal to in teaching. It may
run down like a clock without becoming fastened more perma-
nently. The end must be shown to be worth striving for again,
if interest is to persist. Curiosity about fits Stumpf's ' Lust am
BcmerkenJ though it seems incorrect to confine interest to this
alone.

Curiosity may be differentiated from expectation, though
they have some features in common. In curiosity there is a
definite situation before me, to which I take an attitude, be-
cause of a supposed significance for me. In expectation there
is no actual object present; it is ideal in form and is to exist.
The situation which is to influence me and which I expect will
exist some time in the future exists for me only as a mental con-

304 FELIX ARNOLD.

struction. In curiosity the situation which is to influence me is
actually before me, but its full significance remains for me par-
tially unknown. In curiosity there is a definite starting point
about which revived meaning, images, etc., cluster, while in ex-
pectation the revived images or ideas of the situation to be realized
exist first and form the starting point for any further ideal re-
vival or control. In expectation the situation is to come, in
curiosity it is already partially present and becomes subject to
our control for more perfect control.

* Rouse interest in a person and attention will follow ' is a
more or less popular opinion, and much used in so-called peda-
gogical discussion, though more up-to-date books on pedagogy
follow the doctrine of concomitance. Exact analysis will show
that interest as actually present is concomitant with attention,
in fact is the incentive to the motor control involved in atten-
tion. Interest and attention, except in most elementary and
primitive forms of attention, run side by side. The moment
we see in an object some special meaning, as soon as we take
an attitude because of such signification, motor control becomes
necessary for further development of this meaning and attitude.
The incentive present, further differentiation and control of the
situation is begun, and we have interest on the one side and
attention on the other. In the blind manipulations of the in-
fant, in the aimless working over of a situation by the newly-
born child (or as soon after as he is capable of Ms), the -very
Jirst control involves no interest to the infant, though to an ob-
server it might seem so tq do. Only after the manipulation has
resulted in a certain condition of the self, that is, only after the
situation has acquired a meaning can interest exist. Efforts
towards control and instinctive reaction are determined by levels
below the stage even of awareness. To consider interest pres-
ent in this stage would be to posit ready-made adjustments and
attitudes as felt, and innate meaning for the child on the one
hand ; or on the other hand, it would deny that such instinc-
tive reactions are acts of attention, in that they are below the
conscious levels. But in instinctive reactions of this kind, at
least the visual elements, etc., are conscious ones, and these
visual elements, etc., acquire meaning only after the -process

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 305

of control has resulted1 in a certain state of the self concerned.
Development of interest is the process by which instinctive re-
actions lead to control, such control resulting in a certain con-
dition of the self. The situation giving rise to this condition
may then possess interest, but only after the motor control has
taken place. The child (and where can we find it?) which is
born with cognitive elements giving meaning to situations to
which it never reacted, may have interest in its first attempts at
motor control. But the child which instinctively seeks motor
control, because of innate impulses within it, acquires interest
only after such control has taken place. Or in other words,
meaning is an acquired thing, is due to motor control, and
comes after motor control. As such, interest does not exist in
acts of attention purely instinctive. Of course such naive states
are few and far between in more advanced conscious life, but
the point I wish to make is that they exist and must exist at
some stage in the process, unless as I have said before, we are
to posit ready-made attitudes, innate cognitive elements, * in-
stinctive * meaning. This is a small matter for the psychology
of interest, but it is weighty with importance for the teacher,
who deals almost entirely with motor control. Granted ready-
made interest on all occasions, and teaching becomes one long
sweet dream, which it is not by any means to the best of the
teaching body. We may represent the relation of concomitance
between interest and attention in the following schematic out-
line :

INTEREST. ATTENTION.

Conative. Conative.

Felt body-attitude, tending serially to Body adjustments for more perfect

realize a future situation. motor control, with feelings of

strain.

Cognitive. Cognitive.

Mental construction of the situation Ideal elements reinforcing and guid-

to be realized, existing as fringe of ing motor control through fusion

meaning, simple awareness, or as with, assimilation of, complication

free ideation. or association with impression or

idea.

Subjective. Objci

Possible feeling due to anticipation, to Clearness, distinctness, vividness, per-

a partially revived body thrill. sistence of the situation.

306 FELIX ARNOLD.

Where, however, interest may be said to exist before atten-
tion is in the case of potential interest. Such interest, however,
exists in advance of attention, only as potential. The moment
attention exists, such interest becomes actual and is then con-
comitant with attention. Where we have a mental disposition
favorable to the reception of an impression, and where such dis-
position points to the future of the self concerned, there we
have the cognitive element of an interest which becomes actual
when the attitude is taken. But there is no real interest until
the whole system, impression, plus ideal revival, plus attitude
is a fact. In potential interest we have interest before atten-
tion, but such interest is only potential. It may be said that
such potential interest is concomitant with potential attention,
and when realized, with real attention. Where, however, there
is no actual interest present, where mental construction has not
yet taken place, where meaning is attached to an object only
during the process of motor control, there we have interest con-
comitant with attention and not before it as is sometimes loosely
said. It is the incorrect identification of interest with feeling
or with instinct which brings about the notion that interest may
exist before attention.

The simplest form of interest is that in which motor control
of a situation has given the situation meaning in itself, in which,
therefore, the situation is looked upon as a direct and possible
means of affecting the self in the future. Whether the object
-per se be tinged with negative or positive feeling does not affect
the interest as such, since this interest is the meaning the object
has for our future welfare, the attitude roused by the awareness
or thought of such welfare. An ugly looking case may rouse
in me no interest. But if I know or suspect that it contains
some things for which I have sent, and which I can use, it be-
comes for me an object of interest. My attitude is taken because
the case and contents mean the possibility of passing some
agreeable hours, and the like. So too, a rattlesnake as such,
e. £*., in a cage and apart from its possible action on me, may
be a very pleasing object. I may admire its graceful move-
ments, its sudden darts against the glass, etc. But place it
before me on the highway and it becomes fraught with meaning.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 3°7

It will then have for me a negative interest in so far as it means
to me a possible danger, etc., as above described. In addition
to the interest, certain feelings may or may not be present, as
those of alarm, excitement, tension, and so on, but these, being
merely present as concomitant phenomena, do not constitute the
interest. Interest of this kind may be called primary interest,
in that the object or situation itself, and without any other con-
nections, will lead Jo the future state idealized in awareness or
thought.

As more often is the case, however, the given situation to be
reached, and the object or objects through which this is directly
possible are not present, cannot be manipulated at once, are not
directly amenable to the motor control necessary to realize the
future condition ideally existent. It is at this stage that mental
construction enters. Aspects of the objects concerned, possible
connections with them and leading to them are imagined or
thought out, the awareness or image or idea of the object needed
becomes developed and assumes numerous ramifications which
are further developed till they connect in some manner with the
motor control directly possible. The original awareness assumes
a more definite shape (if only awareness is at first present), there
is consciously developed the image or idea of the end situation
to be reached, and from this end stream the various explications
connected with the present, for it is only from the present that
motor control can start. In such a case the end to be attained
is similar in function to the object in primary interest, but it is
only a step removed from the final realization, and is only ideally
existent. In primary interest, some object or situation, A, leads
to the realization of the interest immediately and directly. In
the more developed state which we may call secondary interest,
A' is some end to be realized, and this is connected ideally with
a series of means over which control is necessary before the
terminal situation can become a factor. In this case b leads to
the end A and A leads to the realization of the interest. The
interest exists in A and is the moving force, the impelling motive
for control of b. In this manner we may have a whole series
of connections, in which c leads to b and b to A'. The interest
in c, b> etc., up to the one preceding ultimate realization is

308 FELIX ARNOLD.

secondary interest in that it is derived from the interest in the
original situation which is to become subject to motor control.
A student, for example, may be interested in psychology. If
psychology means for such a person, on the first reading, pos-
sible intellectual enjoyment, feelings of expansion, of satisfaction
and the like, such interest would be either primary, or, as will
be explained, acquired. But the interest in psychology may
be secondary. The interests for the student may be of the fol-
lowing kind : He may see in psychology the possibility of pass-
ing some examination ; such examination may mean the pos-
session of a certificate or of a degree ; such degree may mean
a position in a high school, college, etc. ; and then this position
may mean probably the possession of money, of a position, of
a name, and the like ; or there may be still higher aims. And
during the existence of the secondary interest, the final aim
gives power to its means, ivhich do not so much had up to the
end, but which rather have been developed out of the end.
Secondary interest may be defined as an interest existent in a
means or a series of means which have been developed from a
terminal situation or the image or idea of such situation, and
which means or series of means have interest only because motor
control over them is necessary before the terminal situation can
be realized. The impelling force exists in the interest in the
final situation out of which the means have been developed.

In the course of the various processes leading to final reali-
zation, none of the means may have pleasure per se; in fact,
as is usually the case in many instances, the means are more or
less repelling and have interest only as secondary, as a means
to what is to come. During the process, however, a resid-
ual modification of the self may lead to greater possibilities for
expansion, for enjoyment, for development, which at first were
not seen as inherent in the means. There may be developed
-what has been called an increment of power due to possession.
There may be developed on the cognitive side an apperceptive
basis which can be used in interpreting and controlling situations
before outside of the activities of the self concerned. Most of the
interests, in fact, I may say all the important interests seem to
have been developed in this manner. Insofar as they are the

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 309

product of man they may perhaps be stamped as artificial, but
insofar as man is a part of nature such interests are just as nat-
ural as is the rest of man's development. But they can hardly
be called primitive. Acquired interest (this seems to me to be
the best name), is that attitude and determining cognitive con.
tent which is a residual development of secondary inteiv>t.
Acquired interest differs from primary interest in that it is the
result of secondary interest, being constituted by the residua of
the latter, as it were, while primary interest is the result of
direct motor control.

.Interest as thus conceived does not exist in acts of instinctive
attention, as I have already tried to show. In instinctive atten-
tion there is a feeling of pleasure-pain, etc., but no interest.
Interest is present only in the more or less advanced stages of
attention, and is built up of the residua of many processes of
instinctive motor control. Since interest has on its cognitive
side simple awareness or ideal construction, that is, some sort
of meaning, it is evident that the interest must, to a large extent,
be dependent upon such cognitive content. Interest as a gen-
eral power can therefore never exist. I can not develop an
interest in study, work, etc., but only in those kinds of study,
work, etc., which have meaning for me, are connected in some
manner with some future condition of myself. Only insofar as a
number of such cognitive contents have features in common can
we have interests in common. The widest possible kind of
interest seems to be that in which the content is some aspect of
motor control, and the feeling to be realized a sense of satisfac-
tion, a feeling of expansion and the like. That is one reason
why manual training is so valuable an instrument in education.
General control through the fingers, e. g., cutting, painting,
hammering, sewing, analytic and synthetic manual space per-
ception and the like have an extremely wide applicability. And
control in most of our daily life and daily actions is just the
sort of motor control developed by the manual arts. I think it
safe to say that for the few times one needs to find the square
root of a number over a thousand, or to know a rule in gram-
mar or a date in history, one will have used his fingers hundreds
of times in various acts, be such acts merely grabbing firmly the

310 FELIX ARNOLD.

handrail of a car in motion, or quietly arranging the material in a
business house or dwelling. In addition most of the meaning the
various cognitive elements and situations acquire, is acquired
just through this motor control.1 The range of the interest con-
cerned depends, therefore, upon the guiding cognitive content,
and is general only as the content is general. Power of inter-
est means nothing till connected with a content, and then its
generality depends upon the generality of the content in ques-
tion. It becomes a question, therefore, whether it is good as
pedagogues claim, to develop an interest solely in the subject
-per se; or whether it is not better to cultivate an interest in
some more general end, as virtuous possession of money (and
I name this without blushing), possession of social good will,
an idea to be somebody of use to the community, and the like,
which can then be applied and connected with any number of
studies, occupations, etc. Such an end is by no means ab-
stract, and when developed will be connected with some means.
This is why, to a great extent, so many newcomers prosper in
our land. They are filled with one ambition, have one aim, to
own land, get money, possess ease and the like, which they
connect with whatever occupation or study affords the nearest
and surest road to success. To return, the dogma of formal
discipline goes to pieces with interest as elsewhere, and the
interest is as restricted as the end in question. Only as the
study or the work expands can the interest do likewise.

I shall end my discussion with a treatment of the laws which
govern both the formation of interest and the use of such interest
when formed. This portion of the paper will probably be of
greatest use to the teacher, or it ought to be of use if the points
thus far brought out mean anything. There are two phases of
the question where the use and applicability of interest are con-
cerned. In the first place there is the question as to the laws
underlying the development of the interest, and in the second
place there is the question as to how, once such interest is

:See Binet, 'Perceptions d'Enfants,' Revue Philosophique \ 1890; Shaw,
* The Employment of Motor Activities in Teaching,' Popular Science Monthly,
Vol. 50, and 'A Comparative Study of Children's Interests,' Child Study
Monthly, Vol. 2 ; Barnes, ' A Study on Children's Interests, ' Studies in Educa-
tion, 1897.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 311

present, to make the most use of this interest. In examining
these phases of the situations concerned I make use of ground
which has been thoroughly ploughed by others, and hope simply
to enforce what others have already presented.1

I shall discuss the laws underlying the development and the
use of interest under the following heads :

1. The law of expression and motor control.

2. The laiv of imitation.

3. The law of habit .

4. The law of addition towards a situation producing feel-
ing of

(a) pleasure.
(6) expansion,
(c) quiescence.

5. The law of aversion from a situation producing feelings

(a) pain.

(b) depression.

6. The laiv of apperception (concerned in the use of interest}.
It is evident that any given situation can acquire meaning

for the individual only as the individual comes in contact with
such situation, reacts towards it, manipulates it, attempts a more
or less perfect motor control. And the basis for such reactions
is the impulses which exist in the individual concerned. Given
a situation present to the child, and he instinctively shoots off as
it were in a definite manner without forethought, without aware-
ness of meaning or cognition of the result. An infant will just
as readily tear up a ten-dollar bill as a newspaper, will just as
soon swallow cyanide of potassium as a lump of sugar. The
result of his reaction, of his adjustment, of his attempted control
will determine the meaning of the situation when again pre-
sented (if the child of course is still alive) will give the founda-
tion of a primary interest. The state reached after such control
will determine future reaction in the individual. In teaching,

1 See Baldwin, Feeling and Will, Ch. VII., and Mental Development, the
whole book. The notion of motor control, and the more exact presentation of
means and end I have taken bodily from Dewey whose lectures on kindred
topics are illuminating, though rather abstract.

312 FELIX ARNOLD.

the question is to determine what objects will be presented, so
as to produce the highest possible degree of pleasure, expansion
or quiescence compatible with the end sought. No direction is
needed where spontaneous expression or motor'control are relied
upon to develop the interest. Selection of subject matter only
is here the problem for the teacher. The use of the sand heap,
of clay, of stories told by the children, etc., all come under this
law. The feelings of satisfaction, of expansion, etc., after
such processes have been gone through will be sufficient to
stamp the objects or situations as worth manipulating, /. e.,
they will acquire a fringe of meaning for the child (be he old
or young) and as such will have interest. Furthermore, interest
will be strengthened if the social appeal is used to rouse pleasure,
expansion, etc., in the individual concerned. When this control
is sought only for the sake of the approbation from others, or
for a little black mark in a book, the interest becomes secondary,
and in this case, perverted.

More often, spontaneous control is aided by a copy set for
guidance before the control is attempted. The impression,
image or idea thus first presented will, by the law of dynamo-
genesis, tend to work itself out in action, and we have the law
of imitation operating. Imitation is the most potent factor in the
development of interest. It is to be noted that the ideal copy
existing may be merged in the presentation existant, may be
present only in the fringe of meaning in the object or situation,
as simple awareness. If, for example, a teacher finds the cen-
ter of gravity of a ruler, makes a dent at the point and twirls it
around on a pencil point, the pupils will do the same, without
any other stimulation. The pleasure, etc., resulting will give
meaning to the process, will determine the attitude to the situa-
tion, will result in interest. If again a mark, some artificial
sign, social approval, etc., are given, these aid in strengthening
the interest formed. Where further meaning is given through
diagraming, drawing, coloring, illustration, etc., the interest is
likewise strengthened ; but some sort of expression or motor con-
trol should be the basis. The entire range of instincts and im-
pulses (which are not interests) may be appealed to in the
process. In order of vividness, the copies set may be, (i)

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 313

actual control of an actual situation, (2) actual control of a simi-
lar situation, (3) representation of 'the control r, (a) by photograph
or colored picture, (b) by simplified illns/ralion, (c) by schematic
outline, (d) by oral explanation and gesture, (e) by writing and
print. The last usually accompanies the others, as does some-
times the fourth mentioned, (d). As examples of these forms
of * copy' set, we have of (i) actual gardening in a real garden.
making of a real chair, speaking of a correct sentence, etc., by
the teacher or one able so to do ; of (2), gardening for example,
in a soap-box, making a chair in miniature or in paper, giving
a sentence in writing, to be spoken, etc. ; of (3), (#), the usual
pictures of gardening in the geography, the pictures in an
* Everybody's Book,' the pronouncing of words like those to be
used, etc. ; of (b) unfilled drawings of the processes in garden-
ing, outline representations, etc., and use of words simpler
than those to be spoken, etc. ; of (c) schematic outlines of the
process involved, and in speaking, phonic analysis, use of rules
(may they rest in peace), and the like ; (d) oral explanation
and gestures are almost useless in many of the school subjects,
unless they come from the children concerned or unless they
arc called in as auxiliary ; with more advanced students they
form a more important medium of instruction ; (e) book instruc-
tion should, with children, come last of all if it is to be used at
all. The set * book lesson 'is an instrument of torture which
only the least capable instructors of children use. With ad-
vanced students the text-book is of the greatest use, and with
many, it usurps the place of the instructor. But the founda-
tion elements are not obtained by this means.

The outline as thus given is suggestive only and by no
means complete. I wish solely to emphasize the importance of
the process of imitation in the formation of interest, and the
necessity of the right kind of * copy ' set.

It is to be noted that such copy set may appeal to an already
developed interest of curiosity, but is of little value unless the
actual process is attempted by the self concerned. The interest
to be developed is not the interest of curiosity, the interest of the
idle who like to « nose ' around, but rather an interest in some
creative control. The interest of curiosity is an elementary
stage which should lead to more active expression.

3H FELIX ARNOLD.

It is generally understood that habit deadens interest, that
conscious meaning becomes less and less as the process becomes
more and more automatic.1 Habit no less than instinct is more
or less mechanical and as such is not interest. It is not this
negative phase of interest which I wish to bring out, but rather
the means of utilizing just this automatic nature in the forma-
tion and development of a new interest. Where a situation of a
certain kind always produces response of a definite order, the
content of the situation may be somewhat different, and through
the mere force of habit motor control will be started. After
such control the situation with the changed content may contain
possibilities which result in interest. The usual habit of response
which can be used is of the motor kind. If, for example, I
have the habit of taking a book and looking through it from
mere force of habit, progressive control may lead in the growth
of a new interest. So, too, in a school room, a teacher may
start a process of control in the children merely by giving an
order to proceed a certain way. It seems that habit of reaction
is determined by a certain objective form which may be filled
with a number of contents. The student who goes to college
day after day reacts to certain objective features, e. g"., the
horse or trolley car, the building, the seats, etc. Once there,
further processes may lead to new interests, or development of
old ones. The use of habit however is of a secondary nature
and should be used more as a reinforcing agent.

By the psychologist's fallacy, the feelings of pleasure-pain,
etc., which find their greatest value when they come after con-
trol of a situation, are sometimes placed before by the teacher
who arbitrarily creates standards of value according to his or
her whim or caprice. But where an impossible or useless course
of study is forced down a teacher's throat, or where conditions
forbid (e. g., the * big-class, cage-seat, silent-room and ramrod'
system), he or she is justified, I think, in creating artificial
values, e. g., marks, punishment, driving, etc., if for self-pro-
tection only. The importance of the feelings given under the
law of appetition and the law of aversion is self-evident. This
calls for all those aids which will intensify the natural result of

1 See Baldwin, Feeling and Will, p. 141.

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INTEREST. 315

a proper motor control, c. g., social appeal, dynamic coloring
of objects used in control, sympathetic atmosphere, aesthetic
surroundings, and the like.

The laws above given deal with the development of an in-
terest or system of interests.; they are not the result of an in-
terest or system of interests which is appealed to, but they are
principles which govern the acquiring of interests. Once t
interests are on a fair way of development, any appeal to them
will be for the purpose of their further expansion and develop-
ment, and can be roused only by connecting with them in some
manner the situation or some aspect of the situation in hand.
Apperception here lies at the basis of the process, and tho re-
lated known becomes important in such stimulation. It is seen,
orshould be seen from the discussion thus far, that the Herbartians
deal only with the use of interests already existent, and with the
necessity of developing such interests, but the actual processes
involved, and the underlying laws are neglected. This is why
the theory of interest is so exasperating to the teacher, who
usually scoffs at it as mere ' theory.' Interest is not a mere
tickling of the sensations for the purpose of rousing attention in
the children and of making life easy for the teacher. It is, as
Volkmann has said, a more enduring thing. Interest is rather
a manner of interpreting and reacting.1

INTEREST.

Aspects. Kinds. Stages.

Conative. Desire (Will). Primary.

Cognitive. Expectation. Secondary.

Curiosity. Acquired.

Concomitants. Laws.

Attention. Spontaneous expression and motor

Apperception. control.

Possible feeling present or revived. Imitation.

Habit.

Appetition and aversion.
Apperception.

The MS. of this article was received September 20, 1905, and in revised
form, February 17, 1906. — ED.

1 On apperception see Stout, Analytic Psychology, II., Ch. VIII., and Lipps,
Einhcitcn und Relationen, Einc Skizze zur Psychologic der Apperception, 1902.

In the diagrams in sections I. and II. —means 'concomitant with' and =
means 'equal to.' For purposes of reference, I append an outline of the main
points taken up in section III. of the above paper.

ON THE ANALYSIS OF THE MEMORY CON-
SCIOUSNESS: A STUDY IN THE MENTAL
IMAGERY AND MEMORY OF MEAN-
INGLESS VISUAL FORMS.

BY F. KUHLMANN,
Assistant in Psychology, Clark University.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

A. The problem and the experiment.

B. Analysis of the results.

1. The subjects' methods of learning the material.

2. General analysis of the nature of the imagery and of the process of recall.

a. The visual imagery.

b. Uses associations and verbal descriptions have in common.

c. The characteristics of associations.

d. The characteristics of verbal descriptions.

e. Motor impulses.

f. Relation of factors when recall is uncertain.

3. Dependency upon the nature of the form.

a. The altered familiar form.

b. The continuous irregular curve.

c. The several-part form of simple straight or curved lines.

4. Dependency on repetition of recall and the lapse of time.

a. First stage.

b. Second stage.

c. Third stage.
5- The errors made.

a. Their relation to the subjects' attitude.

b. Their permanency.

c. Their causes.

C. Discussion.

D. Summary.

A. THE PROBLEM AND THE EXPERIMENT.
The general purpose of this study has been to contribute
something to the analysis of the memory consciousness. Its
more special efforts, however, have taken two more definite
directions, (i) To determine the nature of the imagery in the
recall of a given material. (2) To determine the nature of
memory errors and the causes that produce them. Its general

316

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 317

aim, therefore, differs from practically all previous memory
studies in that no attempt was made to study the quantitative
aspect of memory, the question as to how much can be remem-
bered, and the conditions upon which that amount depends.
At the same time no claim can be made for entire originality in
either its purpose or in its methods. The need of the investi-
gation of both these problems had been urged already by Ken-
nedy in his review of the methods and results of experimental
studies of memory.1 Since his writing, one phase of the former
problem has been definitely attacked by Angell and Harwood,2
Bentley,3Whipple,4and Schumann.5 Perhaps some of the earlier
studies and discussions on the nature of the recognitive elements
in the memory consciousness should also be mentioned in this
connection. All of these studies, however, were limited to the
recognitive consciousness, with the interest centralized further
on the part the image of the first stimulus plays in the recogni-
tion of the second. Angell and Harwood's results were mostly
objective. From the difference in the number of right and
wrong judgments on the pitch of the second clang, given with
and without distraction between the first and second clangs, they
infer as to the possible influence a memory image of the first
clang could have had on the judgment of the pitch of the second.
Schumann's study is more of the nature of a general argument
in which introspective observations are not quoted with much
detail. To my knowledge, Bentley, and Whipple are the only
authors, so far, who have seriously attempted to study the
problem introspect! vely and who have at the same time adequately
recognized the need of applying this method rigidly to the more
general problem of the analysis of the memory consciousness.
The second problem stated, the causes that produce memory
errors, has not been directly attacked in any extended study.

1 'On the Experimental Investigation of Memory,' PSYCH. REV., 1898.

2 ' Experiments on Discrimination of Clangs for Different Intervals of Time,
Am.Journ. Psych., 1899 and 1900.

a • The Memory Image and its Qualitative Fidelity,' A in. Join n. Psych., 1899.

4 ' An Analytic Study of the Memory Image and the Process of Judgment in
the Discrimination of Clangs and Tones,' Am.Journ. Psych., 1901 and 1902.

5 ' Beitrage zur Analyse der Gcsichtswahrnehmungcn. Drittc Abhaudlung.
Der Successivvergleich.' Zeitschr. f. Psycho!, u. Physiol d. Sin., Bd. 30, 1902.

318 F. KUHLMANN.

Considerable recent work has appeared on its quantitative
aspect, the degree of memory error and some of the objective
conditions under which it occurs. This is the central interest
of the studies by Stern and his co-workers to whose results the
Beitrdge zur Psychologie der Aussage^ the second volume of
which is now current, is devoted. The objective results of the
quantitative studies on how much can be remembered have in-
cidentally thrown some light on the analysis of the memory
consciousness. In quite the same way the studies by Stern and
others throw some light on the causes of memory error.

The present study is most closely related to those of Bentley
and Whipple, having in common with them, in the first place,
the introspective method of study. The first problem stated
above differs from theirs in being that of the analysis of the
memory consciousness in the recall of a stimulus, instead of that
of the memory consciousness in the recognition of a stimulus
given a second time. The same stimulus was never repeated.
A group of meaningless visual forms, five to nine in a group,
was presented to the subject for ten minutes, and once only.
Immediately afterwards, and again after a number of different
intervals of from two to ninety days the subject was requested
to recall the forms, giving as detailed an introspective account
as possible of the nature of the imagery, the process of recall
and recognition, etc. He was also requested each time to draw
the forms thus from memory as accurately as he could. The
forms were not equally meaningless, but were so constructed as
to allow of a classification into three classes, viz., the altered
familiar geometrical form, the continuous irregular curve, being
the most meaningless, and the several-part form of simple
straight and curved lines. With this procedure the results are
of two kinds. The introspective notes give the direct evidence
on the first problem, and are supplemented only a little by the
objective drawings. The drawings constitute the main results on
the second problem, and, from the nature of the problem, can
furnish only indirect evidence. The subject not knowing the
errors he made in recall could have nothing to say as to their
causes. These must be inferred from the data at hand. But
the introspective results supplement the drawings to such a de-

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS.

gree as to make the inferences perfectly evident in most

cases.

B. ANALYSIS OF THE RESULTS.

i. The Subjects' Methods of Learning the Material. — Be-
fore considering the nature of the imagery in recall it will be
well to take account first of the subjects' methods of learning
the material. This will throw considerable light upon the later
results concerning the nature of the imagery. By alternately
trying to learn and then trying to recall the forms during the ten
minutes in which a group was presented the subject at once
found that the forms were not equally difficult, and much more
time was then put on learning the hard ones. The methods
employed in impressing the various characteristics of the forms
on the mind may be classed into direct methods, and certain aids
to these that were used. Under the direct come then, first,
merely looking at the forms and noting their details visually,
and second, motor processes of the eyes following out the forms
and also of the hand tracing them. To these the aids were
associations made with individual forms or their parts and ver-
bal descriptions. The direct methods need no further consider-
ation. The use of the aids may be further described. In
every case the subject consciously sought for associations, and
the question, * What is this form like?' or its equivalent, was
probably always present in the subject's mind. They were
sought for as a means of fixing the memory of the form as a
whole. This search ended, in the different instances, in a
variety of results. The outcome might be successful in an
actual association made. Secondly, an actual association might
fail while yet the form attained a familiarity that it did not at
first possess. In these instances the form would be regarded as
something familiar and known ; it would ' look like something
they knew, but they could not tell what.' Thirdly, in some
cases the form was broken up into parts which were learned and
recalled in a definite order. These parts had an evident definite
individuality which made them parts and thus, it seems, must
have had some sort of meaning for the subjects. But it was
not so regarded by them. They denied all associations and
familiarity in these cases. Fourthly, the form might, of course,

320 F. KUHLMANN.

remain entirely meaningless and unanalyzed into parts. The
effect of an association made or of an associated familiarity was
always that of putting the subject more at ease with reference
to the form in question ; it made the form easy, and with this
much accomplished he would leave it, feeling satisfied that he
could recall it when wanted. The verbal descriptions were
made mainly for the purpose of fixing minor details of the forms.
They were used for the alterations in the familiar geometrical
forms, for the difference between the actual form and its associa-
tion, and sometimes for the whole of a form that remained entirely
meaningless. In the last case the description was that of a
general characteristic with the same function as that of an asso-
ciation with the form as a whole. The minor details thus fixed
in memory by description were further, relations, positions, pro-
portions and sizes of parts, the angle a part made with another,
the position of a meeting or crossing point and of endings of
lines, the nature of a particular curve, length of lines, etc.
No particular attention was as a rule given to sizes. When sizes
were specially attended to the total amount and proportion of the
page the forms took up might be noted, and to remember the
particular size of each form that of one might be fixed and the
relative sizes of the others noted. For this descriptive aids
were usually used. Positions were fixed in memory by imag-
ining the forms arranged on certain lines. Such lines were
made use of in every case. They were so drawn through the
forms as to make familiar forms themselves, and were dealt with
in the same way as the forms they located.

2. General Analysis of the Nature of the Imagery and of
the Process of Recall. — In considering the results of this sec-
tion it will be helpful to keep in mind the fact that in order to
draw the form again just as it had been seen in the original the
immediate thing, the only thing really necessary was a correct
visual image of the form. All the rest could come in only as a
means of getting that visual image, and of recognizing it as the
correct one. I shall attempt first a general analysis, disregard-
ing for the present two large factors that were found to influ-
ence the nature of the imagery, viz., the nature of the form to
be recalled and the time elapsed since the last. In this I shall

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 321

consider in order the visual imagi-rv, the associations, the
verbal descriptions and the motor impulses, and describe their
nature and relations when a definite recall is the result.

(a) The Visual Imagery. — After the first sitting the sub-
ject never imaged the forms in the color of the original. In
most cases he was quite unaware of the fact that the originals
had been in white on black. Generally they were described as
colorless when questioned on this point, or that the color in the
image had never been noted. Undoubtedly this was due to the
fact that no demand was made on the subject to remember
colors. In some cases the subject visualized the page in
proper size and form and the different forms would then be
visually located on it. But quite as often perhaps the group as
a whole was described as being visualized * off in space/ or * off
at reading distance,' with no particular consciousness of the re-
lations of forms to the page. Whatever the nature of the visual
was in this respect probably depended mostly on whether or not
the. subject specially related one or more of the forms to the
edges or other portion of the page as a means of remembering
its relative or absolute position. Some sort qf a visual repre-
sentation of its position was the most frequent immediate ante-
cedent to the visual image. In those cases in which the recall
took place with the aid of an associated name or equivalent, the
association generally followed the idea of the position of the
form with which it was connected. Thus the subject nearly
always stated that he knew where the form belonged before he
had any further clue to its recall, and only several instances
out of about a thousand are recorded where the form was re-
called without a memory of its position preceding. With this
much given, several grades of spontaneity of the visual image
of the form itself might be described. Beginning with the
most spontaneous are the cases in which the visual of the
whole form comes out in a flash as soon as the recall is at-
tempted, and in such completeness of detail as to seem abso-
lutely perfect to the subject at once. Next in spontaneity are
the images that show a distinct course of development. Ac-
cording to the nature of the form, it may come up in parts with
time intervals between the visual recall of the different parts, or

322 F. KUHLMANN.

it may develop gradually and evenly from one end to the other.
A third class are those in which there is a considerable interval
between the visual image of its general position and that of the
form proper. The subject knows where the form belongs, but
there follows some time before he gets a complete visual image
of it. That interval may be entirely blank as far as any clue
to recall goes, or it may be filled with one or more of such aids,
visual, or in other terms. Recall with the presence of such an
interval was the most common form. A fourth class was fre-
quently noted. In these the attitude with which the subject
approached the form was also characteristic. When the sub-
ject felt assured at once that he would have no trouble at all in
recalling the form, he would not stop to get a complete visual
image of it before he began to draw. The image would then
develop part by part or in a continuous manner as he drew it,
running a little ahead of the drawing. The character of the
visual image varied also with reference to the ways in which
the recognitive consciousness entered. The memory sanction
might come in at once with a ready and complete appearance
of the visual image. Or, the image might develop in wrong
directions, more or less similar, that would be at once recog-
nized as wrong. Sometimes the subject would state that he
purposely tried on a number of different images to see which
seemed most correct. Closely related cases were those in
which the form was drawn from a tentative image and its cor-
rectness or wrongness recognized only after the drawing. This
was a very common procedure throughout, and occurred espe-
cially with difficult forms and in the latter recalls. The subject
might fail to decide whether a form as visualized was correct
until he could actually see it on paper, when recognition might
be quite prompt and decisive.

(&) Uses Associations and Verbal Descriptions have in Com-
mon. — The associations and verbal descriptions that were made
have several things in common which may be noted before con-
sidering them separately. In the first place, both were used as
aids to the recall of the visual image. When the direct recall
of the visual failed the recall of an association or verbal descrip-
tion made at once sufficed to produce the visual image sought

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 323

for. Secondly, associations and verbal descriptions might come
in after the visual had alreach- appeared. In these cases they
might reinforce the recognitive sanction of the visual image.
They would come in to verify the visual, and the subject would
then feel doubly assured of its correctness. Thirdly, either or
both might follow the visual image without adding anything to
the recall or affecting the recognitive state. They would then
be regarded by the subject as a useless addition to the total
process which might have once served its purpose but was now
of no further value. Finally, both might be so very closely
bound up with the visual, and be of so incipient a character as
to make it impossible to decide certain aspects of their relations
from introspection. The statement that the subject does not
know whether the visual preceded or followed association or
verbal description, that he does not know whether the latter
were present at all or not in recall, or what use was made of
them if they were present, occurs very frequently in the notes.
In harmony with this is the very common observation that they
were much in the background of consciousness, with the visual
as the prominent and main process. This does not mean, how-
ever, that there were not plenty of instances in which these re-
lations and the use made of the associations and verbal descrip-
tions were perfectly clear to the subject. We may consider the
associations and the verbal descriptions separately now very
briefly.

(c) The Characteristics of Associations. — Several forms of
associations and grades of closeness of connection with the visual
image of the form can be made out. The association might be
in the form of a visual image of the associated thing. There
was then a real duality of visual imagery, and the name of the
associated thing might not come in at all. But more usually
the connection was closer than this. There would not be two
visual images, that of the associated thing serving as a cue to
the recall of the actual form and as a pattern to model it by, but
the associated thing would be read into the form which was then
usually named. Thirdly, the connection might be remote.
The form might be named with the feeling that there was but
little justification for the name. The name was then usually

324 F. KUHLMANN.

the most prominent thing in the association. Fourthly, an
emotional reaction giving meaning and familiarity to the form
was sometimes present when the subject denied the existence
of an association of any sort. While the association proper,
visual image or verbal, had always the effect of adding this
emotional complex, the latter might exist alone. It was quite
common, too, for that feeling to precede any trace of a visual
image of the form. In such cases the subject would describe
his experience as that of feeling that he knew the form, of feel-
ing sure that he would recall it in a moment, while yet he failed
to do so. There was a different atmosphere surrounding the
different forms that gave each more or less an individuality of
its own, which caused the subject to approach the recall of the
forms with different attitudes. While this was not marked
enough in many, perhaps in most of the cases to receive special
mention by the subject it seems very feasible that this emotional
complex played a large role in the actual recall of the forms.
But its analysis or even the determination of what part it played
in recall was beyond the methods of the present study, and no
special efforts were made in that direction. Whatever the form
in which associated processes appeared, their general use as
means to recall was to serve as cues to the recall of the visual
image of the form as a whole, and in this respect, whether in
terms of visual or verbal imagery, differed from verbal descrip-
tions as a class. Considering only those cases in which they
were thus means to recall, the associations aided in bringing up
a general, often indefinite visual image of the form as a whole,
or of the parts to which they were attached. As the subject
often stated, they prevented the form from being forgotten alto-
gether. They did little further towards filling in the details.
These had to be recalled for the most part by other methods.
The degree in which this was the case depended, of course, on
how closely the actual form resembled the thing associated with
or read into it.

(d) The Characteristics of Verbal Descriptions. — The part
played by verbal descriptions in the recall of the forms can be
inferred largely from what was noted above as to how they were
used in learning the material. They were used for the forms

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS.

and parts which the subject found difficult to learn by mcrdv
looking at them. In a very rough way they entered the later
recalls in the ways they had entered in learning the forms in
the first place. The difficult parts were as a rule not recalled
directly in terms of the visual, but the visual was built up
through a recall of the verbal descriptions. Unlike the associ-
ations, however, they were rarely used for the recall of the
visual of the form as a whole. They applied to the details
after a general visual outline or pattern was already present ;
an outline that the subject at once regarded as only an outline
in need of corrections and completion. They played their part
further in getting the visual corrections for the associations
made, so far as the latter varied from the actual form. And
again with the forms that were more or less difficult throughout
so that hardly any visual image of its general outline preceded,
the recall of verbal description might come in almost at every
point in the form. Special mention should be made here again
of the very incipient character of the verbal descriptions in
which they so often appeared. Apparently there was a very
strong tendency for all but one of the subjects to describe in-
cipiently the characteristics of a form in a visual image as he
noted them. To attend to such characteristics meant largely to
thus describe them.

(c) Motor Impulses. — It was observed that the develop-
ment of the visual image might be gradual and continuous from
the beginning to the end of a form. This carried with it a
strong tendency to a corresponding eye-movement. As the
image developed the eyes incipiently followed its progress. In
some rarer instances this tendency to eye-movement assumed a
greater independence of the visual image. In these the sub-
ject described himself as ' feeling ' that the form extended in a
certain direction, or that the eyes moved back and forth se\
times from one point to another with the expectation that the
visual image would appear accordingly without it doing so at
once. About the same is to be said of tendencies to hand move-
ments, the movements of writing or of drawing. These \\cre
less frequent but with one subject seemed to be more prominent
than the eye- movements when they were present at all. About

326 F. KUHLMANN.

the part these motor impulses played in the recall of the visual
very little can be said. There were not very many instances
in which the subject stated that they preceded the visual.
Their simultaneous appearance with the visual was the rule.
The inference might be, therefore, that they were, so far, not
aids to recall. However, the observation was made a few
times that they not only preceded the visual but were the means
of its recall.

(_/") Relation of Factors when Recall is Uncertain. — There
remains to be considered some of the ways in which these dif-
ferent factors in recall are related when the recall is uncertain.
Recall might be uncertain because of a rivalry, when some sort
of memory sanction went with each of two or more factors that
conflicted. Or, it might be uncertain in the absence of such
rivalry, from other causes. To the latter naturally belong by
far the larger number of cases of uncertain recall. There are,
of course, many instances in which the subject has tried on all
the methods of recall, has brought in all the aids without com-
plete success. The last resort in these instances is generally
visual recognition. The form is actually drawn from a tenta-
tive image to see how it looks, and then re-drawn a number of
times to make it look more satisfactory. The final outcome of
such a procedure was often the statement of the subject that
the drawing looked wrong but that he did not know where or
how to change it so as to improve it. A special instance of
this kind that was quite common were cases in which a descrip-
tion on account of its ambiguity was itself inadequate for the
recall, and recognition remained indifferent to the several dif-
ferent visual images that might be constructed. A real conflict
or rivalry between the different factors or between different
imagery of the same class occurred in several different ways.
In these a distinct memory sanction went with more than one
construction of the form and resulted in uncertainty as to which
was correct. This might occur between two visual images.
A form or part might look right when taken by itself, but when
considered in relation to some other form or part it might appear
wrong as imaged or drawn, and seem right some other way.
More frequent were the conflicts between the visual image of a

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 327

thing associated with a form and that of the actual form.
of course, no separate and definite visual image of the actual
form would be present, but rather the subject would feel, recog-
nize, that the form as he imaged and drew it was too much like
the associated thing, while yet there was something about the
former that tended to make him accept it as correct. Still
clearer cases of real conflict were those in which a visual image
would come up and by itself be regarded as quite correct,
while at the same time certain verbal descriptions recalled
would contradict the visual image. Qj.iite a number of these
cases occurred and in many of them the subject in the end gave
up the recall with the statement that he did not know whether
visual image or verbal description was correct.

3. Dependency upon the Nature of the Form. — We may
turn now to a special consideration of the factors already named
that influenced the nature of the imagery. The forms as given
could be roughly classed into three groups, (a) The familiar
form with some alteration attached, (b) The continuous irregu-
lar curve, (c) The several-part form of simple straight and
curved lines.

(a) The Altered Familiar Form. — The familiarity of a form
depends of course on the degree of the subject's success in read-
ing meaning into it. First in this class were the altered geo-
metrical forms and I shall limit the description to them. The
subjects, without exception, regarded these as easy forms. In
learning the group they were at once recognized and picked out
as such, and but little time was spent on them. The exact
nature of the basis for this faith that they could be easily remem-
bered seemed peculiarly hard to determine. It was not the
presence of the association, the name of the form, nor a general
visual image of an associated thing. These were in by far the
majority of cases quite in the background or entirely absent, and
did not affect for this reason the feeling of the subject towards
these forms. It was rather a distinct characteristic emotional
attitude together perhaps with certain characteristics of the vis-
ual imagery itself. No further anal}Tsis was made of this. In
the recall of the form this attitude was a part of the recall. The
subject approached it with ease, and certainty that there would

328 F. KUHLMANN.

be no difficulty. With the general clue to recall given,
described before as some sort of visual representation of its
position on the page, the subject would at once know its general
character and that the form could be recalled at will. The vis-
ual image would be described as easy and very spontaneous.
It would come up in a flash and stand out as a whole in clear-
ness, in a definite, unambiguous, unwavering character. Or, it
would come up part by part or develop continuously as it was
needed while drawing the form. In the latter the subject was
so certain of its recall that he seemed to deem it not worth while
to go to the trouble of first getting a complete visual image of it
before beginning to draw it. Cases of this sort were very fre-
quent with this class of forms. Whatever the character of the
direct visual image, the nature of the recognitive sanction was
the same. It was immediate and decisive. There was no need
of resorting to the recognitive method, drawing the form and
then re-drawing until it looked right. All these characteristics,
however, hold true only of the main parts of the form, of it so
far as it corresponded to the familiar geometrical form that was
read into it. The recall of the alterations was quite different.
These constituted the details, and in learning and in recalling
them verbal descriptions entered in the same ways as they did
for any other kind of form.

(b) The Continuous Irregular Curve. — In most of its
essential characteristics the imagery and process of recall for
the form that consisted of a continuous irregular curve was strik-
ingly different from that just described. These forms came
nearest to remaining entirely meaningless. They were at once
recognized as hard to learn, and received special attention.
With the general impression of meaninglessness went a special
effort to read meaning into them, which was found difficult.
When an association with the form as a whole was made it
usually needed so much revision as to be of little service in
recalling anything but the roughest outline of the actual form,
and for this it was hardly ever needed after the extra time spent
in trying to fix it visually. Characteristic in learning them was
the abundant use of verbal descriptions. The fixing of the vis-
ual had to be helped out at every point by description. In the

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 329

recall later the attitude present in learning reappeared. They
were approached with the feeling that there would be difficulty
in recalling them accurately. The next thing then in the recall
was visual imagery, direct, perhaps quite as often as some
association or general description. The visual might be an
indefinite, wavering image of the form as a whole. Or, it
might start at a certain point in the form and then slowly develop
through for the rest, with many hitches, ambiguous, and uncer-
tain places. When it came up as a whole certain loops or large
turns in the curve would stand out roughly more prominently
than the rest, with only a vague consciousness of connections or
other parts, and of their general position in the form relative to
the parts that stood out more clearly. This much might come
up quite readily. The form as a whole might be fairly easy to
recall. The difficulties came in attempting to fill out the rest.
The general character of the procedure in the other form of
development of the visual image, when it developed slowly from
one end to the other, was not so much different in its essential
nature. In this case, too, the image would be made up of
prominent, more or less clear, and indefinite, unstable parts. In
both instances the recall of verbal descriptions came in at the
points where there was hesitancy and difficulty in the visual
imagery. It did not, however, enter so abundantly as might
have been expected from its extensive use in learning the forms,
although it was still much more frequent than in the recall of
the other forms. Strikingly characteristic was the recognitive
method of recall, one that in general was applied when all other
aids failed.

(c) The Several-fart form of Sim-pie Straight or Curved
Lines. — In its more important aspects the recall of these is of
an intermediate nature to that of the two classes of forms just
described. It is a form made up of familiar, known parts, and
to that extent it is easy. But the parts are put together in an
unusual way, and in this respect the form is hard. The first
thing characteristic about their recall was the frequent use of
associations for the form as a whole. In the first class of forms,
the familiar geometrical, the visual alone was so self-sufficient
in the recall that the associations were rarely made use of. In

33° F- KUHLMANN.

the second class the form was so irregular and unusual as to
make it very difficult to read any meaning into it. In this third
class the association with the form as a whole was both pos-
sible and necessary. With these they came in more than with
any other as real means to the recall of the form as a whole.
In accordance also with what we might now expect, the recall
of the parts was easy. They needed no descriptive or other
aids to decide their exact nature. The aids to recall were used
in getting the relations between these parts, the ways in which
the}'' were put together. Thus the subject would seldom fail in
recalling all the parts with certainty, but would often be very
uncertain about their relations. Here the verbal descriptions,
the special associations and the purely recognitive method were
all employed because they were found necessary. There was
more occasion for the description to be ambiguous. The sub-
ject would often recall in descriptive terms that a form was
made up of certain angles, curves, straight lines without any
further recall of their relations. The visual imagery in the re-
call had only one point that was characteristic of this class. It
was more distinctly broken up into parts than was true of the
other forms, as a rule.

4. Dependency upon Repetition of Recall and the Lapse of
Time. — The time intervals between successive recalls of a
group were short for the first few, and very much longer for
last recalls. The differences that were found to go with these
conditions were great enough to be distinguishable at least into
three grades or classes, and I shall attempt to describe them in
this way. The second stage will show the influence of repeti-
tion of recall after short time intervals. The third will show
the influence of long time elapsed during which the forms were
not thought of at all. It is not to be understood, of course, that
a certain kind of recall always went with a certain time interval,
nor even that the memory for each form passed definitely
through the three stages to be described. All that the results
show is a constant tendency in the same direction. Whenever
changes occurred, and there did in most cases, they were of the
same nature. But in the individual cases the recall of some
forms could never be classed under the first, while that of others
never reached the third stage.

ANALYSIS OF MEMOItY CONSCIOUSNESS. 33 l

(a) First Stage. — The cases that fall under this class are
limited almost entirely to the first recall of a group. Its main
characteristic is the rapid dropping out of the verbal descrip-
tions used to fix the details that had been specially noted.
During the ten minutes allowed for learning the group many
such descriptions would be made to fix the visual. Half an
hour or so later in the first recall it was a very common obser-
vation on the part of the subject to note that he had used many
descriptions in the learning which now were not made use of in
the recall. He recalled the forms directly in the visual, with
the recall of the descriptions following, or with merely the recall
that some descriptions had been used but were already for-
gotten. This was much less true of the associations that were
made with the forms as a whole. Such an association was but
very rarely forgotten during the first sitting. It was also more apt
to be really used as a means to recall at this time than it ever
was later. The visual imagery was of an average spontaneity.
Much of it came up only through the recall of associations and
verbal descriptions. With this recall went only about an av-
erage degree of certainty on the part of the subject, perhaps
even less.

(b) Second Stage. — The main characteristic of the second
stage is an increased spontaneity of the visual imagery and the
relative absence of associations and descriptions as aids to recall.
The forms are recalled for the most part directly in terms of
visual images, and the corrections and revisions to be made in
the first image take place without descriptive or other aids.
Further characteristics of greater spontaneity of the visual image
are its more ready appearance, with less pauses, and less hesi-
tations as to correctness. There is an immediate and greater
certainty and satisfaction. The associations and descriptions
that do come in are more apt to follow than to precede the
visual, and the greatest use that they can have is to strengthen
the recognitive sanction that goes with the visual image. This
they may do, but the cases in which they are regarded by the
subject as entirely useless in the recall are most frequent in this
stage.

33 2 F. KUHLMANN.

partial loss of memory of the forms. The first of these is a
general inefficiency of the visual imagery, and a lack of spon-
taneity. The recall is more likely than before to be preceded
by an interval in which neither a visual image or any aid is
recalled. When a part of the visual arises it proceeds more
slowly in its development, is more apt to be broken up into
parts with time intervals between the recall of the different
parts, and with decidedly more wavering and hesitation as to
the correctness of what comes up. Several slightly different
images are apt to arise, having attached to them hardly any
recognitive sanction. The recognitive method is more frequently
resorted to. The subject's attitude towards the form as he
finally draws it is also characteristic. It is likely to be either
that of indifference, or of uncertainty. In the first stage he
may be uncertain, but rarely indifferent. In the second he is
generally certain. This indifference means that a visual image
of a form comes up perhaps with relative ease and absence of
rivals without any definite or strong memory sanction going
with it. There is nothing to suggest that it is wrong, and in
connection with the other characteristics its correctness is taken
as a sort of matter of course. It is of the nature of the cognitive
instead of the recognitive state. With the difficulty to recall
the form at once in purely visual terms goes the attempt to find
aids to the recall. The associations for the form as a whole
are likely to come in again as a real aid. Aids are found more
necessary for the recall of the details, but here the subject finds
that he has forgotten much of the verbal descriptions once used.
He may remember at what points they were used before but
have forgotten what they were. This is quite common. The
recall of false descriptions is also characteristic of this stage.
Often the subject stated that he recalled a certain description
when that description did not fit the original form as presented
to him at all. These are probably mostly instances in which
he had on previous occasions descriptively noted certain char-
acteristics of his visual images, cases in which these images were
wrong. In some instances they are descriptions of previous
drawings that are wrong. Finally, these last recalls are char-
acterized by a greater frequency of rivalry between the different

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 333

factors in recall ; rivalry between the different visual images,
and between a visual image and a verbal description.

5. The Errors Made, (a) Their Relation to the Subject's
Attitude. — The errors made by the subjects in the drawings of
the forms should be considered in close relation to the foregoing
description. That will make many of them already intelligible,
and a further consideration of their causes will throw additional
light on the nature and analysis of the memory consciousness.
It would be natural to suppose that the errors would be most
frequent at the points where the subject found the most and
greatest difficulties in learning the forms, and again in the recall
where he was not certain of the correctness of his results. But,
as a matter of fact, there are so many important exceptions to
this that neither of these generalizations would be valid. It is
true that errors occurred most for the minor details, and these
were the things for which the visual imagery alone was found
most inadequate, for which various descriptive aids had to be
brought in. But this was not true of all details. And again,
it was often in the forms that the subject called easy that he
made the most and greatest errors. The frequency of the errors
made, therefore, has no regular relation to the subjects' feelings
of the ease or difficulty in learning the form. At certain points
the subject was especially aware that he was probably making
errors, and in a few instances he even noted a possible cause of
error. Of the details of the form made up mostly of one con-
tinuous irregular curve the subject was as a rule more or less
uncertain. In this his memory judgment was usually correct.
Errors were frequent here. But errors were perhaps quite as
frequent in some other kinds of forms in the recall of which the
subject was entirely unaware that any could possibly have oc-
curred. There was, therefore, no regular relation, either, be-
tween the frequency of errors and the subjects' degree of cer-
tainty and the correctness of his recall.

(Z>) Their Permanency. — A cursory examination of the
results suggests a two-fold classification of the errors. First,
on the basis of the permanency of the error after it once ap-
peared, and of how it changed when it did not remain constant
in the successive drawings. Second, on the basis of the causal

334 -F- KUHLMANN.

factors that are evidently at work in producing them. Briefly
followed out, this scheme will make their description complete.
Something may also be suggested at the same time towards ac-
counting for their permanency or variability. By far the ma-
jority of the errors that occurred were present in the first
drawings, and remained more or less constant throughout the
successive recalls. This was unquestionably a consequence of
the conditions of the experiment. The subject had only ten
minutes to look at the original forms. During the first sitting
and again in each following one he had occasion to look at and
consider his own drawing of it for about an hour. Thus the
later recalls were perhaps recalls of the previous drawings as
much as of the originals. All the errors, therefore, that ap-
peared in the first drawings would be permanently fixed and
regarded as part of the original ever after. A much smaller
number did not remain permanent. In some of these the
changes took place in a constant direction. The error would
remain the same in character, but increase in degree in the suc-
cessive recalls. In others the error changed in character, or at
least did not simply increase in the same direction. In cases of
the latter class the explanation of their behavior is by no means
entirely clear. It can for the most part not be safely inferred
either from the drawings or from the introspective notes. The
notes are not always complete enough to include full reasons
why a particular part in question was drawn just that way.
When the changes in the errors were all in the same direction
the causes were in nearly every case quite readily determined.
These need not be taken up separately at this point. In the
following classification and description of the errors according
to their causes, the latter are taken up in the order of frequency
with which they produce errors.

(c) The Errors According to Their Causes. — It might be
supposed that an inference as to the cause of any memory
error would necessarily be very unsafe. Our memory con^
scousness is so very complex and the number of different pos-
sible causes in any given instance so very great that we should
hesitate to say anything about what the real cause was in any
given case. On merely a ^priori grounds this attitude would

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 335

be quite the correct one. But the nature of the results in this
case is such as to dispel this difficulty. At least those causes
that will be enumerated are perfectly clear.

(i') Ambiguous Verbal Description : A small number of
errors resulted from ambiguous description. The subject might,
for instance, note that a form was made up of certain familiar
parts, curves, straight lines, angles, etc. This in itself would
make the form seem easy. But when he came to the recall of
such a form later he would often find that the relation of the
parts had not been sufficiently observed. He would recall the
names of the parts and their exact visual imagery quite readily.
But he could not put these parts together so as to be recognized
as correct either from the visual imagery of the separate parts
or from the descriptive names. Again, a form might be
described as large or small in relation to some other, or a posi-
tion might be described ambiguously in relation to some stand-
ard, as out of the vertical, or horizontal, or not quite parallel or
perpendicular, as far or near ; or the nature of a part be
described as curved or angular. These descriptions were
indeed aids to recall, but since the recall through them could
never be more accurate than the descriptions they sometimes
left room for a wide range of error.

(2') The Influence of Associations : The influence of an
association as a cause of error has already been suggested.
This was quite common in the cases of an association with the
form as a whole, in fact, it was the rule when a definite use was
made of the association in recall. That influence consisted
simply in changing the form as recalled so as to resemble the
associated thing more than the original form as presented did.
The change tended to take place gradually. Apparently the
subject forgot gradually more and more the points of difference
between the associated thing and the real form, so that when in
the later recalls the association was still made use of the visual
image of the associated thing took the place of that of the real
form without any suggestion of error to the subject. Out of
quite a list of illustrations of this influence there were very few
clear instances in which the subject was suspicious of it. In
these that suspicion consisted merely of a vague feeling that

336 F- KUHLMANN.

surely the real form was not so much like the associated thing
as drawn, while at the same time when the drawing was con-
sidered by itself with no special attention to its great similarity
to the associated thing it seemed quite correct.

(3') The Influence of Certain Standards in Forms, Positions
and Relations : A third source of error is quite similar to the
influence of associations, but appeared in a variety of ways, or
consisted perhaps of slightly different factors. These may be
enumerated separately without a special consideration taken of
the characteristics they have in common, for these will be evi-
dent enough. First among them to be mentioned are the
standard, simple geometrical forms. In the cases where the
form or a part as presented very much resembled one of these
the small differences tended to drop out in the later recalls. A
special instance of this that was very frequent was the part of a
form that consisted of a slightly irregular curve. The irregu-
larities dropped out making the part a smooth even curve. This
might be the effect of an association were there not so many
cases of this sort in which the subject denied that the idea of the
geometrical form had at all occurred to him, and were there not
so many quite similar cases in which no such association was
possible. These similar cases are instances, first, in which
errors in position of a form or part occurred. A line that was not
quite vertical or not quite horizontal in the original form tended
to be recalled as just vertical or just horizontal. Secondly, the
parts of a form tended strongly to take on certain standard rela-
tions to each other. Parts that were not quite parallel or per-
pendicular to each other tended to be drawn just parallel or just
perpendicular. Thirdly, parts that were not quite equal in
length tended to be drawn equal. Fourthly, parts tended to be
arranged symmetrically where no exact symmetry existed in
the original, in some instances changing the nature of the parts
considerably at the same time. Crossing points were placed at
the middle when in the originals they were a little away from
the middle, or were placed at the ends when in the original they
were not quite at the ends.

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 337

C. DISCUSSION.1

This study was made in the spirit of Titchener's recent reas-
sertion that the best way to make a mental analysis is to appeal
to consciousness directly, rather than to use the psychophysical
methods in which the analysis is an inference from objective
data instead of the introspective.2

Memory studies in which the former methods have been used
are numerous. These have clearly established a number of
things, first among them in importance for our present consider-
ation being the fact that very much less can be remembered of
a material that is very simple in its nature than of a material
that is more complex. The inference also from this that the
amount remembered depends in the first place on the number
and closeness of associative connections with the material and
between the different elements of it is undoubtedly largely
correct. But it is wrong in so far as it overlooks the extent of
the influence of the other factor which introspective observation
brings out. The few results of the present study show clearly
enough that associative connections are a great aid to recall, if
any further proof of this were needed, but they also show that
the matter of inherent spontaneity of the imagery directly con-
cerned in the given material is an aspect of recall equal if not
of greater importance than are associations, and that spontaneity
is not necessarily dependent upon associative connections if
introspective observation is to be at all relied upon. The
familiar geometrical forms were the easiest to recall, but also
those for which the subject was most apt to deny the use or
presence of any associations whatsoever. Again, the sponta-
neity of the imagery in the three stages described varied inde-
pendently of the frequency of the use of associations. The
second stage, e. g"., showed the greatest spontaneity of the
visual imagery, but the least use of associations. To what
extent spontaneity is to be attributed to what psychologists have
usually called the influence of repetition needs no discussion

1 For a summary of results see pp. 343 f., if this is desired, before considering
their discussion.

2Titchener: 'The Problems of Experimental Psychology/ Am. Journ. of
Psych., 1905.

338 F. KUHLMANN.

here. The interest in this kind of fact lies not in its cause, but
in what evidence it gives in favor of one of the two opposing
theories of recall, the theories, viz., that all recall is mediated
through some associative connection, and second, that recall is
sometimes of a spontaneous origin, thus breaking the associative
continuity of mental processes. In this connection it is to be
borne in mind that the associations made use of in the recall of
the forms in this experiment were not associative links between
the different forms of the group. They were associations with
one or the other particular form and were entirely foreign to
the rest of the group. The only reason why they could come
in at all was because they could be more easily recalled directly
than the forms themselves with which they were associated. In
other words, the imagery of the associations possessed a greater
spontaneity than did that of the form itself. In all these cases
we have instances in which the mind makes use of the fact of
greater spontaneity of certain imagery to insure recall of the
thing with which it is associated rather than depend on the law
of contiguity for the recall of the other forms of the group. In
the present study indeed the latter was found again and again
entirely inadequate for the purpose of recall. Nearly all the
characteristics of the recall were not such as pointed to associa-
tive connections mediating the results, but the ways in which
the imagery came up indicated rather that it depended much
more upon its own inherent nature and organization. To say,
then, that a complex material is better remembered than a simple
because of more associative connections becomes in the light of
this consideration not more than a half truth. The complex
material is at the same time the material that has been most
frequently an object of consciousness. The fact that small
differences in sense qualities, e. g*., can be remembered but for
so short a time may be due more to less spontaneity than to less
associative links on account of the simplicity of the material.
The objective results of psychophysical methods have carried
the analysis further by showing that more is remembered of a
given material if the subject is allowed while learning it to (a)
articulate the associated names, or is allowed (b) certain motor
processes of hand movements at the same time while he is look-

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 339

ing at the material, or if (c) the material is presented jointly to
more than one sense than when it is presented to one sense
alone. This involves more than merely the increase of associa-
tive connections. The results of the present study are in har-
mony with all and they verify the first two. We have seen
what part verbal description and associated names play in the
recall of the material used, and also, to some extent, how motor
processes come in. The objective methods of Stern and others
have also already taught us much on the degree of normal
memory illusion, and have indicated some of the external con-
ditions on which that degree depends. My results do not give
much on the degree of memory illusion. But they give at least
equally important data; they show something of their nature,
and very distinctly some of the causes that produce them, and,
in my opinion, establish the validity and greater usefulness of
the method for working out their whole psychology.

These are all the general points of any significance that the
results of this study have in common with others in which in-
trospective observation was not made use of. Let me turn now
very briefly to their further interpretation. Limited as the re-
sults are to the mental imagery and memory of meaningless
visual forms, they cannot go very far towards an analysis of
the memory consciousness in general. Their significance
should be judged only in the light of the much larger program
for this general method of approach. If we had much more
extensive results not only for visual material of different kinds,
but the same also for all the other sense departments, we have
reason to suppose that they would give us a far better under-
standing of this whole question than the results of objective
methods ever could give. At the same time a few points of
general significance that even this study has brought out may
be considered here. The analysis has not merely shown the
existence of certain associated processes in the recall of a ma-
terial that is presented to one sense alone, but it has gone a con-
siderable ways towards determining at just what points, in what
ways these processes enter, and what their exact function in
the memory consciousness is. In the present experiment the
tendency is for the material to be recalled directly in terms of

34° -F- KUHLMANN.

imagery that belongs to the sense to which the material was pre-
sented. This is the simplest expression of mental economy. It
indicates that, so far, nothing enters consciousness that does not
serve directly the end desired. But the visual imagery was
found so inadequate for its purpose that at many points associa-
tive aids had to be resorted to in order to reestablish the visual
in its full integrity. With the frequent repetition of the recall
the visual attains a greater degree of spontaneity. This, taken
in a large way, is a gradual process, during which the associ-
ative and other aids recede step by step. They first come in as
aids to the recall, then only to reinforce the memory sanction
that goes with the visual image that is already present, then
cease to do even this while yet they enter, and finally drop out
altogether. This gradual elimination of the aids to the recall is
another expression of mental economy, which culminates at the
point where the subject not even goes to the trouble of first
getting a complete visual image of the form, but begins to draw
at once from the first suggestion, letting the visual image de-
velop as needed while drawing ; or, if the few observations on
this point are to be taken as indicative of the direction in which
the truth lies, it culminates where the subject draws from a
motor memory, where he denies the presence of anything that
can be called a visual image.

This strong tendency for the mind to follow ' the line of
least resistance ' is reflected again in the character of most of the
errors that are made. These can almost all be described by
the one general characterization that an easier visual image that
is more or less incorrect is substituted for the correct image of the
actual form which would be more difficult. At least this de-
scription applies to all those errors that are not due to errors in the
aids to recall, but are connected directly with the visual image.
The visual image constantly tends to take the form of one that
possesses the greater spontaneity. It tends to the visual image
of the association that is made, an association whose only reason
for existence in the first place, as was just noted, is the fact that
it possesses a greater inherent spontaneity than does the exact
visual image of the real form. It tends to certain standard
positions and relations, such as the exact vertical, the horizon-

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 34 l

tal, the symmetrical position, in each case undoubtedly because
these relations are more easily held in mind and recalled than
the exact amount of variation from such a relation would be.1
This brings us to a second matter of general significance
which the results clearly indicate — the degree of resemblance
between the inner organization of the memory imagery and the
process of recall on the one hand and that of the perceptive
perience on the other. There is still a tendency in psychology
to accept the na'ive conception of memory consciousness as
weakened copy of original perception with a recognitive factor
added. Perhaps there is no great need any more of combatting
this conception. But it may be well to let such results as those
of the present experiment remind us of the degree and ways in
which such a view is a misconception. Compare on this point
again the kind of consciousness, its content and organization,
involved in learning the material with the kind of consciousness
involved later in the act of recalling that material. Certainly
the process of recall is not a weakened repetition of the process
of learning. The total process of recall in the later instances
was a quite different thing from the first recall immediately after
the presentation of the material, and between these, for the dif-
ferent time intervals, were found many variations in that total
process. Further, these variations had a wide range, not only
for the different time intervals and the frequency of the recall,
but were influenced also by the nature of the form. Nor can it
be said with much more validity that the final result of the re-
call, the completed imagery that is used in drawing the form
again from memory, is a weakened copy of original percep-
tion. In striking contradiction to this view is first the fact that
in many instances no such completed image came in at all in
drawing the form. Consider in this connection the differences
in the nature of the visual image accordingly as the form was
a very easy and familiar one, or, on the other extreme, was the
very meaningless continuous irregular curve. Yet, on the side of

7 This is in close harmony with Leuba's hypothesis, which Stratton also ac-
cepts and elaborates, that our memory tends to the more usual and common in
our experience. Leuba, 'A New Instrument for Weber's Law, with Indica-
tions of a Law of Sense Memory,' Am. Jour, of Psych., Vol. V., p. 370.
Stratton, Experimental Psychology and Culture, New York, 1903. Ch. IX. X.

342 F- KUHLMANN.

mere perceptive experience there could be no great difference
between the form that was easy and the form that was hard to
learn and to remember. The characteristics of the continuous
irregular curve were as easy to perceive as were those of the
simple square or circle. With the same visual perceptive ex-
perience we find the visual memory image at times more or less
adequate for the purpose of drawing the form again correctly,
at other times we find it hopelessly inadequate. And again, the
visual image might be regarded by the subject as * good ' while
his drawing is quite inaccurate, and vice versa. Less intensity
and vividness is among the least of the characteristics in which
the memory imagery differed from its perceptive experience.
Lastly, the function and importance of what is usually termed
the * recognitive factor' is not adequately described by calling
it merely an added factor in the sense usually meant. It enters
into the inner organization of the memory consciousness at every
point in the recall, rejecting here and accepting there, thus de-
termining the whole course of recall and the final product to-
gether, as well as being a mere reaction to that product when
already present. Whatever the elements are in this emotional
reaction, it is a reaction that enters before as well as after the
image is completed. In addition to this there is another ' added
factor ' that is perhaps closely akin to the recognitive. This is
what has been described as the characteristic attitude with which
the subject approaches the recall of the difficult and the easy
form. The emotional reaction that is characteristic of expected
ease or difficulty of recall is often a very prominent factor after
the first clue, such as the indefinite visual representative of its
position, is given. Nor is the subject indifferent in this respect
at any point in the recall. Every step is wrought with tinges
of emotional reactions to what else is going on in conscious-
ness, although this may often escape the subject's notice be-
cause of its nature it is difficult to analyze out and describe.
The original perception of a form may be a very ' cold-blooded '
affair while its recall from beginning to end is alive with a con-
tent that did not enter into the original perceptive experience.
In a word, taking all these several matters into consideration, it
must be observed that what we have called the total process of

ANALYSIS OF MKMO/tY CONSCIOUSNESS. 343

recall is very largely not recall at all, and can never be described
even half correctly by calling it reproduction. It is rather a con-
struction, not a reconstruction, a construction of a certain rt-Milt
that is accepted in place of the original, and far from a recon-
struction of a past perception.

D. SUMMARY.

In learning the forms the subject alternately noted tlu-ir
characteristics and then tried to recall them. This was a method
of determining difficult points and to these special attention was
tlu'ii given. They consciously sought for associations for a form
as a whole, and, less frequently, for certain distinct parts of a
form. These associations served as aids to the recall of the form
as a whole or of the parts in question. A second general aid
for fixing, and for recalling the visual image of a form was
verbal description. This was used for the most part at the
points where special difficulties were found, for the minor
details, and for necessary corrections in associations that were
used.

In the recalls the direct visual imagery showed distinct
grades of spontaneity, and differences in the order of its devel-
opment. With the somewhat indefinite visual representation of
a form's position given, its visual image might flash up at once
as a whole, clear and distinct and without any alterations tak-
ing place. With these acceptance as to correctness was mostly
immediate and complete. In other cases a certain interval,
variously filled, might follow the first recall of its position before
anything about the form would come up. The visual image of
the form itself might develop slowly, in a fixed order from
beginning to end, instead of all parts simultaneously. In this
gradual development several similar images might come up one
of which is finally kept as correct or nearest correct. With
those not kept usually went a slight memory sanction, a recog-
nition that the real form was something like this. Sometimes
the subject guided his imagery purposely in this way as a means
of accurate recall when there was some difficulty. Or, instead
of this sort of gradual development, the image might simply
stop at certain points, and after some hesitation proceed again

344 F. KUHLMANN.

in a direction that was accepted as correct. For particularly
easy forms the subject would be apt not to go to the trouble of
first visualizing the form in all its details before drawing. The
visual image would come up part by part, or in other ways as
needed while drawing. For particularly difficult forms or
parts the subject resorted to the recognition method. He would
do the best that he could with his visual imagery, draw the form
accordingly, and then decide from the looks of his drawing at
what points it was wrong, and re-draw it until it looked as satis-
factory as he could make it.

The uses made of associations and verbal descriptions have
certain things in common. Either might be used as real aids to
recall the visual ; it would be recalled first, as a means of sug-
gesting the visual. Or, either might be recalled after the visual
image had already appeared. In this case it might strengthen
the memory sanction as to the correctness of the visual, giving
added assurance, or it might leave the recognitive state entirely
unaffected, coming in as an entirely useless factor in the process
of recall.

The association, as a rule, was connected with the form as
a whole, and was a means of preventing it from being forgotten
altogether. It might be in the form of a visual image of the
associated thing, or consist merely of the name of the thing.
Various degrees of closeness of connection existed.

Verbal descriptions were used for the most part for minor
details, for the relations of parts, for the positions of crossing
points and endings of lines, for corrections necessary in the
associations made, etc., and sometimes for a general description
of a form as a whole, approaching more in this case the nature
of an association. They were quite apt to be of a very incipient
character, so that the subject was not always certain whether
they had come in at all, or what use had been made of them.

Certain motor impulses were sometimes described by the sub-
ject. These consisted of tendencies for the eyes or hand to move
along the form as it appeared in the visual image, in the direc-
tion and order followed in the drawing. In a few instances
these preceded the visual image and were regarded by the sub-
ject as real aids to recall.

ANALYSIS OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 345

Two large factors present influenced the character of the
recall and the nature of the imagery, (i) The nature of the
form. (2) The frequency of repetition of recall and the time
elapsed. The recall of the altered familiar geometrical form
the subject approached with a characteristic attitude, a feeling
of ease and certainty that there would be no difficulty. The
visual image came up readily, unwavering in character and was
at once accepted as correct. Associations very rarely were
needed as aids to recall, and as a rule remained much in the
background of consciousness. Descriptive aids for the altera-
tions in the actual form from the familiar geometrical were used
here as in other forms to recall details. The forms consisting
of a continuous irregular curve were the most difficult and their
recall approached with an attitude the opposite in character to
that in the preceding. Associations were specially sought for
but difficult to find. Much verbal description was needed for
the various details in the curve. In the recall a first very gen-
eral and schematic visual image, which was at once regarded
as such by the subject, might be quite easy and spontaneous.
Special and great difficulties were then found in recalling the
details, in which the recall of verbal description generally came
in as an aid, and for which the resort to the recognitive method
was frequent, with the final result often uncertain. Or, the
visual for the form as a whole might develop in order from one
end to the other, with the hesitancies, resorts to aids, and uncer-
tainties entering at the difficult points of details. The recall and
nature of the imagery for the several part forms of simple straight
or curved lines was in a way intermediate in character between
the other two. In these the parts were familiar and easy, but
their relations unfamiliar and difficult. Associations were found
necessary and also possible. Their use as real aids for the
recall of the form as a whole was frequent. The recall of the
parts by themselves was relatively easy, but their exact relations
difficult and aids often resorted to.

The influence of repetition of recall and of the time elapsed
was great enough to make distinguishable at least three stages.
The first is characterized by a rapid dropping out of verbal
descriptions as aids to recall which had been used in the learn-

346 F* KUHLMANN.

ing, while yet they come in as real aids more abundantly than
at any other time. The more frequent use of associations, an
average spontaneity of the visual imagery and degree of cer-
tainty are also characteristic of this stage. In the second stage
the visual imagery shows the greatest spontaneity. It comes up
readily at once, without associative or descriptive aids. The
first image is more apt to be correct, and if not, the corrections
are made directly in the visual. Immediate and a strong degree
of certainty goes with the visual imagery. Associations and
verbal descriptions come in after the visual images and without
affecting the recognitive state oftener than at anv other time.
Marks of a partial loss of memory characterize the third stage.
There is a general inefficiency and lack of spontaneity of the
visual imagery. It develops slowly, with many hesitancies and
intervals during which neither visual or other aids arise, and in
wrong directions with only a slight degree of recognition of
their inaccuracy. Previous associations are sought for and
enter again as aids to the recall of the form as a whole. The
subject tries to recall verbal descriptions for the details, but finds
that he has largely forgotten what they were. False descrip-
tion, and rivalry between the different factors are frequent.
Resort to the recognitive method, drawing the form and deter-
mining corrections from the drawing, is found more necessary
than ever before, and the subject is more often uncertain or in-
different to the final result.

The errors made in the successive drawings of the forms
had no regular relation to the subjects' judgment of ease or
difficulty of the form while they were learning it, nor to his
certainty or uncertainty as to the correctness of his drawing.
With reference to the permanency or course of development
they fall into three classes. (a) By far the majority of the
errors appeared in the first drawing of a group and remained
constant in the later drawings. A smaller number did not
remain permanent. (3) Some of these remained the same in
character but increased in degree in a constant direction, gener-
ally indicating a definite cause of error at work, (c) Others
changed in character, or at least not simply in degree in the
same direction. The causes of these were not often evident.

ANALYS/S OF MEMORY CONSCIOUSNESS. 347

With reference to their causes, the errors fall into three classes,
though in the last possibly several slightly different factors art-
included. The definite objective results together with the
detailed introspective notes generally left no doubt as to the
interpretation as to the cause of the error, (a) Ambiguous
verbal description when the visual alone was inadequate to cor-
rect recall often results in error, (b) The influence of an
ciation made with the form as a whole or definite part tended
to make the drawing more like the associated thing than the
real form, (c) (i') Certain parts of a form approaching in
character that of parts of certain familiar geometrical forms
tended to be drawn more like the latter than they were even
where the subject denied all traces of any association with the
part in question. (2') With reference to position on the page,
lines that were not quite vertical or horizontal tended to be made
just vertical or horizontal. (3') Parts of a form that were not
quite perpendicular or parallel to each other tended to be made
just perpendicular or parallel. (4') Parts that were not quite
equal in length tended to be made equal. (5') There was a
tendency to arrange parts symmetrically.

In this study I am indebted to Professor E. C. Sanford for
suggesting the general problem and for encouragement to take
it up, and to Mr. W. F. Book, Dr. E. Conradi, Mr. A. L.
Gesell, and Dr. L. M. Terman, Fellows in Clark University,
for much patient and expert work as subjects. l

BIBLIOGRAPHY.
ANGELL and HARWOOD. 4 Experiments on the Discrimination of

Clangs for Different Intervals of Time.' Am. Journ. of

Psych., 1899.
4 Discrimination of Clangs for Different Intervals of Time.' Am.

Journ. of Psych., 1900.
BENTLEY. 4 The Memory Image and its Qualitative Fidelity.'

Journ. of Psych., 1900.
GAMBLE and CALKINS. * Die reproduzierte Vorstellung beim \Yied-

ererkennen und beim Vergleichen.' Zcitschr. f. PsychoL,

1903.

JThe MS. of this article was received May 2, 1906.— ED.

348 F- KUHLMANN.

1 Ueber die Bedeutung von Wortvorstellungen fiir die Untersuch-

ung von Qualitaten sukzessiver Reize.' Zeitschr.f. Psychol.,

1903.
HENDERSON. ' A Study of Memory for Connected Trains of

Thought.' PSYCHOL. REV. Suppl., '03.
HOFFDING. 'Ueber Wiedererkennen, Association und psychische

Activitat.' Vierteljahrsschriftf. ivissenschaft. Philos., 1890,

pp. 27, 167 and 293.
KENNEDY. 'Experimental Investigation of Memory.' PSYCH. REV.,

1898.
LEUBA. ' A New Instrument for Weber's Law, with Indications of

a Law of Sense Memory.' Am. Journ. of Psych., Vol. V.
LEHMANN. ' Kritische und Experimentelle Studien iiber das Wieder-
erkennen.' Philos. Studien., VII.
MACDOUGALL. 4 Recognition and Recall.' Journ. Philos., Psych.,

and Set. Meth., 1904.
SCHUMANN. ' Beitrage zur Analyse der Gesichtswahrnehmungen.

Dritte Abhandlung. Der Successivvergleich.' Zeitschr. f.

Psych., 1902.
SLAUGHTER. ' A Preliminary Study on the Behavior of Mental

Images.' Am. Journ. of Psych., 1902.
TITCHENER. 'The Problems of Experimental Psychology.' Am.

Journ. of Psych., 1905.
WHIPPLE. 'An Analytic Study of the Memory Image and the

Process of Judgment in the Discrimination of Clangs and

Tones.' Am. Journ. of Psych., Vols. 12 and 13.

DISCUSSION.

ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

The demand for organization in psychology arises out of a dual
interest. First, there is that of the teacher who desires to give a con-
tinuous account of his subject; second, that of the student, who would
satisfy logical and aesthetical demands for unity.

One of the greatest difficulties that the teacher of psychology meets
in the pursuit of his vocation is the almost total lack of plot in the
average text-book. One could wish that the several chapters of the
text, while serving to elaborate the general theme through the analysis
of some particular character, might make the various characters so
interact in the successive scenes as to stimulate interest in the develop-
ment of the theme as a whole. Under such circumstances the psy-
chologic story would move as it does not now. The sense of continuous
movement, of interesting development of the theme, of a unified
resultant conception in which the manifold analyses of the argument
synthesize into an intelligible whole, is one difficult to bring to con-
sciousness in the student. This difficulty, I believe, finds its main
source not in the inaptitude of the student to the subject nor in the
unpedagogical methods of the teacher, but in the text and in certain
transitory conditions of the science itself. As I have indicated the
text lacks plot and plot interest. Plot demands that the characters
function one with another in a continuous movement. Each, while
playing its own part, must be other, sufficiently, to suggest that there
is an inclusive whole, an immanent unity. In such circumstances
curiosity, that universal principle of interest, asserts itself instinctively.
Suggestive parts and elusive whole reciprocally stimulate and support
one another. The theme lives in an ever-increasing interest which is
satisfied only when it is fulfilled in the denouement. Now can we
assert, fairly, that text-books in psychology have, as a rule, met these
demands and realized this interest? I think not. Few are the psy-
chologies that arouse and maintain a powerful interest in the average
student. However intensely they may excite his interest in detail they
fail to carry him along with increasing momentum. His enthusiasm
attaches to parts and not to the whole. Frequently it is difficult for
him to realize that a whole is intended. The volume is a series of

349

35° ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

chapters dealing with individual topics, conjoined but not organically
united. As to plot — it is rare. Conjunction of parts is not plot;
nor is every arrangement, even though it be according to a defined
scheme. Plot demands a principle of movement which is immanent
and dynamic in the parts, as well as parts each of which after its own
kind and in its own degree consciously exhibits the movement of the
principle. Now, how frequently do we find a single unifying prin-
ciple consciously presented as a clue in the opening chapters of our
psychologies and wrought thoroughly to the end? How often do the
various chapters look beyond themselves revealing traces of antecedent
conditions and opening up vistas of subsequent circumstances deter-
mined by their own movement? Can one hold as a truth concerning
our text-books that, as in well-wrought pieces of literature, the chapters
mutually assist one another and consciously advance the movement of
a unifying theme ? The majority of our psychologies are written from
the standpoint of psychophysical parallelism considered as a working
hypothesis. This, in itself, is fatal to all attempts at plot. Of every
fact we have two descriptions and for every change we have two ex-
planations. And this the student is quick to perceive. The separate
stories cannot be woven into a single plot. Interest is divided and in
division tends to lose itself. Were the study unified according to the
tenets either of materialism or of spiritualism it could have a plot. In
the former case the resultant conception would have tragic consequences
for ethical presumptions; in the latter, the implication might appear
to have a relation to the practical world similar to that now accorded to
4 castles in Spain.' Nevertheless, there would be unity of organization
and plot interest.

Furthermore, this desirable end would be attained also if the view-
point of psychophysical parallelism were transcended and a working
hypothesis substituted for it which would regard the distinction be-
tween physical and mental as functional and not as existential. Curi-
ously enough, such unity of organization as exists in most psychologies
falls mainly upon the physical side. We can unify nervous structure
in terms of neurones and nervous function in terms of instincts and
habit. We can trace their groupings and organizations to a very con-
siderable extent. On the mental side a similar unity has been aimed
at but has not yet been attained. It is common tradition that ever
since faculty psychology received its coup de grace at the hands of
Herbart the science has moved forward steadily upon the assumption
of there being unity in mental life. But it is one thing to be con-
scious of the actuality of such a unity and another to exhibit its imma-

DISCUSSION. 35 1

nence through the organization of its parts. Doubtless it was natural
that the developing science should center its interest in structure and
in detail rather than in function and in the whole. Observations
had to be made and observation means isolation and detail in work.
Transitive activities had, in a sense, to be arrested, and such arrest
resolves function into structure. Now, such piecemeal analysis, how-
ever necessary it may be, has the disadvantage that it does not con-
duce to exhibiting the vital interreaction of factors. On the con-
trary, it necessitates the substitution of a dissected body for the orig-
inal organism. No matter how thorough the dissection and how
clever the classification of the parts, they are none the less disjecta
membra and must fail to exhibit the functioning of parts within a
whole. This is the reason, I believe, why so many of our psychol-
ogies lack plot. Psychology has, in the main, been structural and
not functional. Thorough studies and analyses of mental processes
have been undertaken and carried through. The results have been
registered and classified. But there has been an almost complete lack
of such functional organizing of these results as would stimulate curi-
osity with reference to their interplay and would exhibit their inter-
action as well as the manner in which they are unified in their ground,
the self. This isolation of parts, this lack of organization in the
whole, forces itself upon the student and stands in the way, alike of
his comprehension of the subject and of the development of an inclu-
sive interest in it. He may be interested intensely in specific topics,
but is keenly conscious of a marked hiatus in passing from one topic
to another. This is true even of that God-send to teachers, James's
psychology. The student's interest in it is of the episodic and not of
the dramatic variety. He is charmed and enthusiasm is awakened in
him in unique fashion by each of the successive chapters. But there
is no denouement in the revelation of an organic whole. And what
is true of James is true generally. The fatal hiatus existing between
the contents of the successive chapters of structural psychology must
exhibit the paradox of assuming an essential unity which its own
method conceals. The truth of this contention is proven by the fact
that symptoms of a definite change of view-point may be discerned in
recent writings. This applies especially to the later writings of
Baldwin, to certain portions of Miss Calkins's work, to the underlying
method of the contributions of Dewey and Royce, to say nothing of
others. But it has remained for Professor Angell to make the change
consciously and to apply the new method with characteristic thor-
oughness and lucidity in a systematic work His volume has a

35 2 ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

marked plot interest and is functional to the core. Not only has he a
single theme — that of the interaction of the psychophysical organism
with its environment — but the successive chapters, while portraying
their own distinctive characteristics, contribute each to the natural de-
velopment of the theme and are constantly illuminated by the light
cast upon each by every other. As a consequence the argument un-
folds with constantly increasing interest and moves steadily to a unified
conclusion. It is almost superfluous to recite that the volume appeals
strongly to the student. Among my own pupils (the full Junior class
of the college — 150 strong) it is held by all in equal favor with James
and by many in greater favor. It is the only psychology that I have
yet been able to place side by side with James without remarks dis-
paraging to the newcomer being made.

As, for pedagogical purposes, there is a grave lack of plot in psy-
chological treatises, so, also, for theoretical purposes, there is a simi-
lar lack of system. Ordinarily, no unifying conception is propounded
at the beginning and its validity demonstrated through the progress of
the investigation. There is no theory which defines psychic functions
individually and also correlates them into a systematic whole. The
nearest approach to this requirement has been made from the stand-
point of physiological psychology. The hypothesis that every mental
process has a physical basis or correlate has, without doubt, enabled
the science to advance by leaps and bounds. But although we can,
with moderate success, indicate the probable physical basis of the ma-
jority of psychic activities and can roughly schematize them, still two
things much to be desired are lacking. First, the functional relation-
ships of the varied physical bases have not yet been worked out;
second, the knowledge of physical correlates in individual cases has
not enabled the psychologist, in any marked degree, to bring mental
functions under a single principle and to exhibit their organic unity.
Moreover, even were these two requirements fulfilled the parallelistic
hypothesis would still bar the way to unity as it has done in the past. So
long as psychologists accept the psychophysical distinction as existen-
tial and not as methodological so long must they bid farewell to claims
for systematic unity in their science. That psychologists, quite gen-
erally, accept parallelism as a working hypothesis will scarcely be
doubted. It is an obvious inference that the science must exhibit a
fundamental dualism.

Aside from this, psychology lacks organization in the arrangement
of its subject matter. Suppose we take the well worn general divi-
sions into intellect, feeling (affection) and will (conation). Is not this

DISCUSSION. 353

a survival from a pre-scientific age in psychology? Is there any
rational motive for treating intellectual functions first, affective second,
and conative last of all? One might question whether placing the
entire system of intellectual activities in the forefront of a psycholog-
ical treatise is consistent either with the instrumental, pragmatic ftinc*-
tion ascribed to intellect as at least one of its critical phases or with a
sort of spiral movement attributed to psychic functions in this devel-
opment by the so-called circular reaction theory. Again, is not the
position assigned to affection out of touch with the theory that emo-
tion is the immediacy of our consciousness of the tension consti-
tuted by the clash of instinctive (and habitual) activities in mi^ad-
justed activity ? This point is emphasized further by the theory that
it is out of just such tensions in action that the mediating intellectual
function arises and that it plays the role of opening up the way to a
possible reunification of activity.

Again, we may ask, is the order of topics in psychological treatises
indicative, as a general thing, of any ascertainable principle of organi-
zation? Has the semblance of order any more definite basis than
that similar functions are usually classed together, that a certain
endeavor has been made to place the complex after the simple and
the reproductive after the original? At critical points the arrange-
ment is anomalous, a fact sufficiently indicative of the absence of a
thoroughly organized arrangement. For example, if instinct plays
such a fundamental role, with reference to all conscious processes, as
we are now coming to believe that it does, it is a curious arrangement
that delays its appearance upon the scene of mental development
until a very late hour. Habit, also, although it plays a part equally
important with that of instinct, does not appear to have any well
defined position of its own. Attention is gradually gravitating toward
a position in harmony with its prominence as an intellectual function.
The fate of interest and of belief, however, has been sad. Their lot
— bandied about as they have been from point to point, when they
have not been overlooked entirely — is worse almost than that of lost
souls in Hades. Finally, the position assigned to the self in such a
treatise as that of James, would seem to be conspicuously out of place.
If the concrete self be the sole psychic reality one would expect that
its consideration would furnish the grand conclusion in which the
master- word would be spoken and all previous considerations unified
in the presentation of the final all-embracing fact.

The lack of system is illustrated perhaps as fully by the omissions
of individual psychologists as by any other circumstance. There

354 ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

appears to be no common ground comprehensively covered. It will
suffice, in proof of this, merely to call to mind the presence or absence
in individual texts of such topics as interest, desire, belief, ideals, im-
agination (in distinction from the treatment of varieties of imagery).
If we view these facts together I believe that we shall be convinced
that the time has come when structural psychology must pass definitely
into functional psychology and when a unifying principle must be
sought for the organization of mental activities. Furthermore, this
principle must transcend the dualism of parallelism. For just so long
as we work intelligently upon the basis of this method we must empha-
size diversity and not unity. Yet every science must aim at the unifi-
cation of its data. Either, then, we must admit that physical condi-
tions are inessential to psychology or we must endeavor to transcend
the dualism of psychophysical parallelism. Now I do not intend to
enter upon a serious discussion of psychophysical parallelism at this
juncture. Nevertheless, one may point out certain peculiarities of the
hypothesis which may suggest the manner in which it is to be trans-
cended. These peculiarities may be summarized as follows. The
doctrine contradicts itself or, otherwise, the distinction and the paral-
lelism asserted by it have merely methodological and functional
values. If we regard the distinction of physical from mental as
grounded in an existential separation of processes and then take paral-
lelism seriously the theory lands us in absurdities. It presupposes
what it must deny. We contrast the two processes and consequently
must have knowledge of each. Yet, if there were an exclusive paral-
lelism our psychoses should be totally and eternally unaware of, as
well as uninfluenced by, their parallel neuroses. Our contrasting of
the terms would indicate that they had a common basis; the parallel-
istic character attributed to them would suggest, further, the idea that
a single process was under description, that a single fact was being
read now in one set of terms, now in another — hence the marvel of
the parallelism. Finally, their apparent duality for consciousness
would indicate a polarity of function and not a dualism of process.
Hence the real problem is to ascertain under what conditions and in
what circumstances this polarity arises, its method of operation and
its significance in the development of organic activity. To determine
this and to utilize the insight as a clue to the organization of his
science is the fundamental problem of the psychologist. The further
question, as to how the quantitative values, to which the physical is
most naturally reduced, are related to the qualitative of the psychical
is one that falls within the primary problem in psychology as it does

DISCUSSION. 355

within many others. N<> <l<>ul>t it is of vast importance but after all it
has no more special application to psychology than to physiology,
biology and, chemistry. Indeed, it is essentially a question of pure
methodology, viz., the part which mechanical and quantitative formu-
lations play in the exact description, measurement and control of
qualitative processes.

The unifying principle, therefore, that psychology demands is one
which accounts for the polarity of the psychical and the physical func-
tionally and which recognizes in them describable movements of a
single organic process. It must enable the psychologist to use both
methods of description in an entirely natural manner, to indicate how
the single activity is modified now in terms of one phase of its move-
ments and now of the other.

Now just as Professor Angell satisfied the demands of plot interest
on the pedagogical side, so theoretically, he fulfills the primary demands
of system. His psychology centers in a single unifying principle whose
ramifications and bearings are exhibited at every turn of the argument.
As a consequence the treatment is highly illuminating. The chapters
do not follow the outworn arrangements of other days or by accident
fall into a certain order. Each has a definite and noticeable position
in the elaboration of the central theme and exposes in its own move-
ment an individual characteristic of the unifying plot.

This principle is his conception of the psychophysical organism
and the development of its conscious life through the solution of the
practical problems set it by the necessity of constantly adjusting its
activities in the presence of a changing environment. Although this
biological standpoint1 is not original with Professor Angell but is the
expression of a dominant tendency in current psychology, nevertheless
his thorough functional application of it is decidedly novel and origi-
nal. His emphasis of the point of view and his consciousness of the
necessity of system in psychology has opened up the way to an entire
re-writing of the subject.

I shall next attempt to emphasize the necessity for organization by
a brief outline of psychologic functions as this is determined by trac-
ing out the clues furnished by the biological conception.

The biological conception, as I understand it, holds that the dis-
tinction of physical and psychical — of body from mind — is not one
of which we are continually conscious. Under ordinary circumstances

1 Especial recognition is due Professor J. M. Baldwin for his distinctive
work in ' setting ' the biological tendency as distinct from the physiological ;
see his Mental Development and Development and Evolution.

356 ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

and in so far as our organic activities operate smoothly our experience
is single. Individuality, qualitatively appreciated, is that of a con-
tinuous stream of activities unified as a single reality. When, how-
ever, this vital activity experiences inhibition within any phase of its
movement tension arises and at once the distinction of physical from
psychical emerges. In this tension of vital activities we locate the
physical as that phase of the complex which serves as the dynamic base
or support of the necessary adjustment. The psychical is the phase in
which the adjustment is constituted. In so far as the adjustment is
completed and perfected tension disappears and vital unity re-asserts
itself. In further readjustments of activity the form of organization
gained by previous adjustment appears as an integral part of the basis,
i. e., on the physical side. Now we apply the term instinct to native
coordinations and habit to those which are acquired. Thus we may
say that the distinction between physical and mental arises out of the
reorganization of functional activities in which the tendencies toward
the persistence of the native base are denominated instinctive; the
tendencies toward reorganization — the psychical ; the completed
coordination, itself — serving as a basis for further adjustments — the
habitual. Hence instinctive adjustments of function take on the form
of the psychical and the complete organization of the psychical emerges
as habit. Generalizing, therefore, we may say that the instinctive and
habitual bases of organic development constitute what we designate
bodily function; that the momentary reconstitutive adjustments com-
prise mental function : that the distinction is entirely functional and
that the unitary living organism is the sole individual. It would
appear necessary therefore that an exact treatment of the characteris-
tics of instinct and habit and of their relation to psychic function
should be given early in any general treatise upon psychology. Such
a treatment would naturally lead in two directions. First, it would
initiate such a general chapter upon the nervous system as is ordinarily
given and which would serve as a basis for the special treatment of
the physical functions which constitute the bases of mental activities in
individual organic adjustments. Second, it would emerge in a chapter
dealing with the general characteristics of psychic activities such as
James treats under the title ' Stream of Consciousness.' This should
emphasize the momentary and individual character of mental states,
the unity of successive psychic streams, their discreteness, the organic
and functional conditions alike of the discreteness and of the continuity
which they exhibit, the focalizing power of the stream — with the con-
ditions of its operation and direction, its discriminating and correlat-

DISCUSSION. 357

ing moments with their organic motives. Moreover, such a chapter
should also adjust the relations of the intellectual, feeling and conative
phases of psychic activity in accordance with the clue furnished by the
primary conception of the psychophysical relation.

According to my own notions this adjustment would take the fol-
lowing form. States of feeling should be taken first in order of treat-
ment ; intellectual states, — second ; and conative, — third.1 My reason
for this arrangement is the following. In any adjustment involving ten-
sion the phase of psychic function directly evoked is that of feeling
whether as sensibility, emotion or ideal. The organism, as it were,
turns out as immediate appreciation its own inner value or quale.
This view is supported in the extreme by the prevalence of intense
sensibility in cases where nervous forces are strained to the limit and
where the organism cannot, immediately, bring the irritating condi-
tions under control; by the prevalence of emotionalism in the period
of ndolesence ; by the emphasis upon feeling when old habits (e. g.,
belief) have been broken up and when new methods of action have
not yet been defined nor put into operation. Feeling, in short, is the
phase of organic activity wherein an old coordination is undergoing
strain or disintegration and where it has not yet got itself sufficiently
in hand to define its own position or to control it. Conformable with
this is the fact that in phases of activity where feeling predominates we
look neither for defined views nor for effective action. They are
states of confusion. The moment, however, the organism masses its
activities positively and proceeds to the examination of its own con-
dition for the purpose of overcoming the inhibition, feeling passes into
intellect. Herein discrimination and correlation, leading to explicit-
ness of definition, expose themselves. When definition has been com-
pleted, conation supervenes and the basis for a new phase of habit is
established. Each phase of psychic activity may occupy a shorter or
a longer period of time or its natural course of development may be
aborted but wherever adjustment fully asserts itself feeling arises on
the. basis of instinct, defines itself as intellect, establishes itself as cona-
tion and emerges as habit. In further adjustments the gains made
assert themselves as physical basis, /'. £., as habit-instinct, coordina-
tions. As such they furnish material for richer appreciations as feel-
ing, for fuller definitions as intellect and for greater effectiveness as

1 However, as will be seen in what follows, this does not mean that feeling
should be treated in its entirety before any investigation of intellectual and con-
ative states is made. Only, that on any given 'level* it is more natural that
feeling should precede intellect and conation.

358 ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

conation. Consequently the chapter on the stream of consciousness
should close with an elaboration of the circular reaction hypothesis of
organic activity as a fundamental principle for the more complete
understanding of the interrelation of the physical and the psychical and
of the concrete development of our experiences in their totality.

Psychologists as a usual thing pass from such a general chapter as
we have described (z. <?., if they insert it at all) to the detailed treat-
ment in turn of the entire list of functions exhibited by each of
the phases of psychic activity. For example, — attention, sensation,
perception, memory, association, imagination, and reasoning are treated
fully before any states of feeling are examined and these in turn before
the conative field is explored. This procedure, it seems to me, is
erroneous. It makes an organic treatment of psychology impossible,
inasmuch as it takes each one of the phases of psychic activity out of
its functional relationship to the other two and from within the organic
movement of which it is a phase. If the intellectual function can be
understood only in relation to feeling and to conation is it not essen-
tial that we should examine sensation and perception with reference
to feeling on the one hand and to conation upon the other? In other
words, is it not necessary to treat functions of the same level of sim-
plicity or complexity in their natural order and relationships as phases
of a single movement before passing from a lower level of complexity
to a higher? Shall we not gain a better understanding of the indi-
vidual states themselves and of the psychic activity of which they are
phases if we examine sensibility, sensation and perception, impulse
on one level; emotion, memory and association, character (so-called
conscious habit — a misnomer) on another level; ideals, imagination
and reasoning, volition on the third and highest level. The theory
back of the classification is that the phenomena of any given level are
really one fact considered in several phases. Organic adjustment, if
taken in its most individual and most momentary function, constitutes
itself as sensibility, or as sensation and perception, or as impulse accord-
ing to the stage at which it is taken. A similar identity of function will
be found to operate in the more complex groups of phenomena, the
distinguishing differences within each being accounted for by the form
of the total reaction constituting the several phases of the common
movement. Having introduced simplicity into the treatment of phe-
nomena upon the same level it remains to be noted in this connection
that a like simplicity can be introduced into the treatment of the rela-
tions of the different levels one to another and to the total psychic
movement. Here we avail ourselves of the light cast upon organic

DISCUSSION. 359

development by the circular reaction theory. It was noted above
that the psychic phase of organic activity tends, as the adjustment is
more fully accomplished, to pass over into the physical phase of ac-
tivity. From this, an occasion of further adjustments, it passes into
richer, more defined and more effective forms of psychic activity.
Thus every moment builds itself into the organism and exhibits t
of its effectiveness in the development alike of physical and psy-
chical function. Accordingly, in emotion, in memory and association,
in character we trace the continuity of organic life. In emotion, feel-
ing no longer presents itself in the simplicity of sensibility, but modi-
fied by the articulation and enlargement of the total organic activity.
The tension which in sensibility was confined to a relatively simpler
complex of coordinations involves in emotion ever larger groups until,
on occasion, the whole organism may be in reverberation. Thus mo-
mentary feeling becomes infused with the consolidated gains of the
psychophysical organism, or at least such of them as its quality ap-
propriately evokes, and as these are incorporated into it in the form of
affection. Memory and association, as also character, exhibit the
direction of similar organic mediation, the one in terms of the intellec-
tual phase of psychical activity, the other in that of conation.

On the level where ideals, imagination and reason, volition play
their parts in a self-conscious medium, mediation takes on the form
of development in terms of ever more complete organization. The
entire organism tends toward articulate and complete self-expres-
sion. This organic self-expression, developed through tension and
appearing in the immediacy of feeling, constitutes the ideal within
us. Defined as intellect it takes on the forms of our life of imagina-
tion and reason. Operative again as conation it is our voluntary
behavior.

Certain peculiarities of this scheme of organization are to be noted.
I believe that some attention to these will give added force to the gen-
eral arrangement. First, it will be observed that psychic functions in
their intellectual phase arrange themselves in pairs. That such an
arrangement is natural is shown by the fact that it has been found im-
possible to give an account of one member of any of the three pairs with-
out involving the other. Sensation cannot be treated without reference
to perception or vice versa. And the same thing is true of memory and
association, as also of imagination and reason. The situation simpli-
fies itself when we observe that in these three pairs of terms we have
the developmental history of a single pair on three levels. The single
pair are the image and the idea. What is meant is that sensation,

360 ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

memory and imagination are functions whose essential feature is the
psychical image, whereas perception, association, reason have as their
essential feature the idea. Now just as the members of the several
pairs were indissolubly united so also are the image and the idea.
They are distinguishable but not separable moments of the intellectual
phase of organic adjustment. The image is ever the aspect of the
adjustment in which the material of reorganization is defined : the
idea that in which the material is correlated into a definite method of
reconstruction. The one is analytic, the other synthetic. The life of
feeling which provides the motive for intellect is single because unde-
fined ; the life of action — the terminus of the intellect — tends toward
singleness because it has been defined ; intellect is dual because in it
the material and method of adjustment is being defined. Second, it
will be noted that three important psychic phenomena are missing
from the scheme. The three are interest, attention and desire. It
takes no great insight to discern that these are functional centers to
the three great phases of psychic activity. In other words, interest is
feeling observed in its essential principle; attention is the intellect in
principle ; desire in itself is conation. Sensibility, emotion, ideals as
forms of feeling are phases of interest. It is the unifying principle of
which they are the concrete circumstantial manifestations. The same
thing is true of intellectual states with reference to attention and of
conative states with reference to desire. Once more we are brought
back to the thought that feeling, intellect and conation are distinguish-
able only by their functions, for interest, attention and desire are the
same active principle of adjustment taken now in its appreciative phase,
now as definitive, and now again as executive. Moreover, this point
is emphasized by the fact that even as psychic life is a unity, so its
fundamental principles of psychic organization unify themselves in a
single function — belief. In belief we find the fundamental principle
of psychic organization. It is the common denominator and focal
principle of interest, attention and desire. Operating as faith, it is
the control center of feeling, i. e., it is interest; as conviction, the
control of intellect, it is attention ; as practice, it is the essence of
desire.

These considerations lead naturally to the final factors in psychic
organization — the subject-object consciousness, time and space per-
ception, and the self. When examining into the problems of psycho-
physical values we discovered a single fact — organic experience —
which was thrown into contrast by the presence of inhibition and con-
sequent tension. In taking into consideration the further fact of or-

DISCUSSION. 361

ganic readjustment we were led to the identification of the physical
with the forms of coordination (instinctive and habitual) which were
sufficiently fixed to serve as bases in the reconstruction. The psy-
chical was identified with the movement of adjustment itself. If now
we take into account our fullest organization of the base of organic
adjustment we describe the function as body, the immediately defined
object in experience. If, on the other hand, attention be directed to
our fullest organization of organic adjustment we describe the function
as mind, the immediate subject in experience. The larger vista
opened up by the interaction of the organism with the environment is
the world of experience. It is not difficult, therefore, to see that the
treatment of space-perception should give definite form to our view of
the object both as body and as world, whereas the treatment of tem-
poral perception should round out the subject of experience and
should deepen our conceptions of the object. There remains the
self. If we bear in mind that body and mind, object and subject, are
but functional phases of organic activity, we are led to the conclusion
that the unitary experience which is ourselves is to be identified with
our total organic activity. Thus the self originates as organic activity,
develops itself through tension and adjustment as body and as mind,
and perfects itself in those forms of effective self-conscious activity in
which the distinction of subject and object has been merged in the
self-consciousness of free adequate function.

If this analysis be correct the problem of arrangement of topics in
psychological treatises becomes relatively simple. It would seem nat-
ural that the general chapter upon the stream of consciousness should
be followed by the treatment of the fundamental principles of organi-
zation in feeling, intellect and conation, i. £., with interest, attention
and desire in their general relations one to another, and to the devel-
opment of psychic life. This would lead naturally to the treatment of
sensibility, sensation and perception, impulse as phases of a single
movement and with constant reference to their physical basis. Next,
the growth of physical and mental functions should be traced in emo-
tion, memory and associatien, character. After this would follow a
similar treatment of organic development into its free creative forms
as ideals, imagination and reason, volition. Such a treatment would
naturally lead to a general unification, first, on the side of principle,
and second, on the side of concrete content. The first would emerge
in the examination of belief as the unification of interest, attention and
desire, as also of its elaboration in complexity, range and freedom
through the development of psychic activity into ultimate creative

362 ORGANIZATION IN PSYCHOLOGY.

form. The second would emerge, on the one hand, in the study of
the problem of space-perception as unifying our conceptions of the
object in experience, and, on the other hand, in that of time-percep-
tion as unifying our conceptions of the subject in experience. Finally,
our entire study should unify itself in the thorough investigation of the
self as it manifests itself through the various stages of organic devel-
opment.

Thus pedagogical and theoretical interests alike emphasize the
necessity for a more complete organization of psychology than is found
at present. The central principle of such organization must be bio-
logical. Its application must be natural and organic. Psychological
treatises must refuse even formal recognition of pre-scientific divisions
and must adopt such an order as conduces best to the exhibition of
that development upon whose actuality they insist. By such procedure
we may hope that in the future psychologies may be enabled to reflect
in their structure and movement the organic unity of the life which
they describe.1

S. F. MACLENNAN.

OBERUN

1 The MS. of this article was received December 13, 1905. — ED.

N. S. VOL. XIII. No. 6. November, 1906.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

REASONS FOR THE SLIGHT ESTHETIC VALUE OF
THE « LOWER SENSES.'

BY WALTER B. PITKIN,
Columbia University.

From the standpoint of esthetics the division of the senses
into a higher and a lower class has often been made, even after
the ancient ethical basis of such a classification was discarded.
Visual and auditory qualities have been universally regarded as
the aristocrats in the world of sensations, while all others have
been relegated to plebeianism. The significance of this division
has never been systematically studied except by Volkelt ; : the
vast majority of investigators have dismissed the question very
briefly, not because of its unimportance for esthetic theory so
much as by reason of its apparent simplicity perhaps. The
popular verdict that the arts appeal to us overwhelmingly
through colors and sounds is generally admitted to have good
psychological grounds ; but just what these are has been more
a matter of ingenious guessing than careful analysis. The
present sketch aims to review critically the various suggestions
that have been offered and to find, if possible an explanation
containing the truth in these without their errors.

i. Volkelt has observed that in the lower senses we feel
objects in direct contact with us, while in vision and hearing,
the case is reversed the qualities being at a distance and « free/
Disinterestedness is therefore impossible when we experience
the lower qualities, for their hard reality forces us to take a

^Zeit.f. Psych, u. Phys. d. S. O., vol. 29, 205 f.

363

364 WALTER B. PIT KIN.

practical attitude toward them.1 This view confirms the
usual philosophical one which places the esthetic in sharp oppo-
sition to the practical attitude. But it does not seem to explain
the prevalent difficulty most observers have in pronouncing
esthetic those lower sensations which are regularly accompanied
by distinctly pleasant feeling-tones. Shall we* say that these
have associated to themselves the stern reality-feeling of the
unpleasantly toned sensations? That would be a remarkable
state of affairs, it seems to me, and one incapable of any de-
scriptive verification ; I do not know what there is in a * reality-
feeling' as such which prevents the contemplative attitude.
True, Volkelt declares that the lower qualities are more pleasant
in memory than when immediately given, and he cites in this
connection the fact that literary artists employ allusions to them
much more regularly and effectively than they do in the case of
visual and auditory qualities ; but the first statement does not
accord with the facts, and the second one has a wholly different
explanation. There are surely not many persons who are wil-
ling to admit that the memory of a cup of coffee is more pleas-
ant than the taste itself ; indeed, it is rather hard to see just
what that could mean. And, as for the literary use of lower
qualities, this is surely not because they are more pleasant as
memories but rather because they are more effective in suggest-
ing (recalling) situations and objects. This power, too, depends
primarily upon visual and auditory elements ; the words used
suggest first of all things and these in turn are recalled most
sharply and unambiguously by their olfactory, gustatory, or
other lower qualities. This clearness of recall is to be ex-
plained, not by the clearness of olfactory or gustatory recall-
images — for these latter are notoriously weak in most persons,
but rather by their uniqueness, or ' individuality.'

Smells and tastes do not form two closely constructed sys-
tems as sounds and colors do ; hence the individual qualities do
not lose themselves in the group because of a too conspicuous
resemblance or relation to other qualities. Thus it is that a
very faint recall-image of an odor may be much more distinctive
and definitive of a complex object than a much more powerful

*Ib., 209.

ESTHETIC VALUE OF ' LOWER SENSES.' 365

color image. Likewise with regard to the stability of the
images ; while a color image might last much longer in revival
than an odor image, still the latter might surpass the former as
a mark of a complex for the reason already given. Stern's
studies in evidence1 show the remarkable lack of fixity in col-
ors as identifying marks of objects. The reason seems to be
that objects really do present greater color varieties than, say,
order varieties. Dogs of all colors smell about alike.

To return to the * reality feeling ' ; I do not see how this pre-
vents the pleasantly toned lower sensations from being esthetic.
And Volkelt has apparently felt this same difficulty for he em-
ploys other principles to help him out. These we may treat
under separate heads.

2. It is not mere contact and the * reality ' feeling alone but
the induced effects of the contact which check esthetic approval.
Thus, all contacts not resulting from voluntary movement or
acquiescence involve a pain-tone, commonly nothing more than
a shock of surprise, and widely irradiating motor reactions.
And it might be assumed that even expected and desired con-
tacts tend to induce the same feeling-response, are mixed with
suspicion and caution at least. Perhaps there is some such
tendency, but in many instances it is vanishingly small ; new-
mown hay, coffee, tobacco smoke, and many other lower
qualities are not only immediately pleasant but have, for most
persons, reinforcing associations rather than opposing ones.
The pleasure-tone is indubitably dominant here ; whence then
the difficulty in naming the toned qualities esthetic? There
seems to be an inclination on the part of most inquirers to seek
the solution of this difficulty in either the pure feeling-quality or
the secondary effects of the sensations in question ; and the pro-
cedure tends in every case to draw the distinction between
esthetic and non-esthetic wholly in terms of the degree of
pleasure or pain. Whenever a sensation is pronounced unequi-
vocally non-esthetic, this is interpreted to mean that, somewhere
or somehow in its conscious history, the pleasure-tone it may
possess is overcome or vanishes. Even Mr. Marshall, who in
many respects has freed himself from this tendency, relapses

1 Cf. Beitr. z. Psych, d. Aussage, Heft. III.

366 WALTER B. PITKIN.

into it finally with his theory of ' relatively permanent pleasure.'
If this be the accepted criterion, though, how shall we
account for the great difference between the ugly and the in-
tensely pleasant lower sensation? Must we say that fleeting
pleasures are equivalent to permanent pains? The suggestion
itself is ridiculous. Or must we say that the fleeting pleasure
is, in the long run, neutrally toned? In this case we must dis-
tinguish two interpretations : firstly, we may mean that the
fleeting pleasure dies out rapidly of itself so that there is virtu-
ally no tone surviving a moment afterward ; or, secondly, we
may hold that the neutral tone is a result of counteracting pain-
tones which are somehow induced by the sensation in question.
In this latter instance the ' surprise-pain ' might be referred to ;
but also, and with much greater justice, the second fact used
by Volkelt to good advantage, namely that in the lower senses
under ordinary conditions more than one sense is stimulated, so
that the resulting feeling-tone is an irregular, more or less
indeterminable mixture of the feeling-tones of the compounded
sensations. We need only assume what is highly probable,
namely that the feeling-tones of the various elements involved
have different directions and rates of change, in order to explain
the frequent uncertainty and shifty character of the resultant
feeling-tone.

Nevertheless, this unquestionable fact can scarcely explain
what it is here made to do. For it merely goes to show that
the number of distinctively pleasant sensations is small. It can-
not explain why these same, in spite of their unequivocal tone,
are usually treated as non-esthetic. One may grant though that
naive judgment may incline to confuse the importance of the
class (in the world of art, for instance) with the esthetic nature
of the members of that class ; Sergi, Bray, Santayana, and
others have followed this possible na'ive verdict in declaring
that the small range and variety of pleasure-toned qualities of
' lower ' order explains the non-esthetic character of this species
of qualities. It scarcely requires subtle logic to realize the
untenability of this view ; to ascribe to a species minor esthetic
importance is not equivalent to rating it as non-esthetic. With
the facts used by the above writers, though, we must agree on

ESTHETIC VALUE OF '- LOWER SENSES: 367

the whole ; in esthetic theory the lower sensations as a class
must be ranked relatively low, largely on account of their
obviously lower organization. Nevertheless in rating them
thus, the real problem of esthetic interest has not been touched
upon, viz., how is it that, although a sensation-quality may be
powerfully pleasure-toned and ' fringed ' with associations, we
have a certain undeniable difficulty in calling it beautiful or
ugly?

3. Santayana1 has urged that inability to give spatial form
to the lower sensation qualities is our reason for regarding them
as inferior, for without spatiality they cannot represent nature.
It is probably true that we rate them as inferior for this reason
— among others — but, as Santayana seems careful to admit
tacitly, this fact cannot explain why we say that many such
qualities are wow-esthetic. It is one thing to call a quality
slightly beautiful and quite another thing to say that the predi-
cates, beautiful and ugly, have no meaning in connection with
that quality.

One objection to Santayana's suggestion must be raised and,
so far as I can see, cannot be answered favorably to his view ;
inability to take on spatial form somehow or other cannot be
decisive in checking the esthetic judgment, for we do find
persons who take a genuine esthetic delight in odors and tastes
and yet, in all probability, are incapable of spatializing these
qualities. And on the other hand, those persons who show
marked cases of synesthesia of the tone-taste, tone-odor, color-
tastes and color-odor types 2 do not, so far as observations on
these rare cases have shown, display any remarkable esthetic
appreciation of the lower qualities. It must be confessed,
though, that systematic investigations on this point are lacking ;
we have the mere probability to fall back on. The first point
above is much easier to confirm and is decisive, I think.

4. Ribot's explanation succeeds only in advancing a pos-
sible reason for the minor importance of the qualities in ques-
tion : together with their low organization they fail to act directly
(esthetically), only reviving visual and auditory representations.3

1 Sense of Beauty, p. 65 ff.

2Cf. Wallaschek, Psych, u. Pathologic d. Vorstellung, pp. 151-181.

* Psychology of Emotions, transl., 351-2.

368 WALTER B. PIT KIN.

The inadequacy of this contention, or rather its irrelevance, has
already been noted.

5. Guyau, in maintaining that all qualities (sensational) are
esthetic,1 is in the opinion of so many observers, simply avoid-
ing the real issue by philosophical generalities, so that we
hardly need discuss his view. It may be that all qualities may
enter into esthetic complexes somehow or other, as for instance
in the case of a landscape which combines very often colors,
sounds and odors; but it is impossible for many persons to
judge a glass of milk esthetically save under very exceptional
conditions. What these conditions are constitutes a goodly part
of the real problem. It seems hardly enough to say that every
quality is potentially esthetic ; one would like to know when
and why it is not, for then and only then does it become clear
when and why it is.

6. Marshall's theory has avoided most satisfactorily the log-
ical confusion between minor esthetic importance and non-
esthetic character of qualities. In developing his general thesis
that ' only that pleasure is judged to be esthetic which appears
permanently pleasant in revival,' Mr. Marshall says that the
lower pleasures have been powerful in our original experiences,
but in memory their recall-experience is not pleasurable, or else
they are bound up with ethical painfulness so as virtually to
love their own peculiar quality.2 For the developed man of
today, it is urged, the so-called lower senses do bring pleasure
in presentation. Their associated elements check their effect-
iveness though.3 This theory demands primarily two condi-
tions, pleasant presentation and pleasant representation of the
qualities in question. It is not enough that a quality be imme-
diately pleasure-toned, its pleasure-tone must persist with the
quality, reappearing with it regularly. It is not demanded by
the theory though that the recall-image of the quality be as
distinct as the recall-image of the pleasure-tone ; it is enough
if both quality and feeling-tone are recalled somehow together.4

1 Prod femes de Vesthetique, etc., chap. VI.

2 Esthetic Principles, pp. 31, 115, etc.

8 Pain, Pleasure, and Esthetics, p. 159.

4 It has been objected that the merely average or even sub-average visual-
izing power of painters and sculptors indicates that representational power

ESTHETIC VALUE OF • LOWER SENSES.' 369

And an implication of the theory is that the esthetic predicate
is predicate in a more or less formal judgment and not an imme-
diate feeling quality ; in deciding that a quality is beautiful a
process of comparison is involved, in so far as some reference is
made in every instance to the regular recurrent connection of
a given quality with a given feeling-tone The esthetic judg-
ment depends upon a realization, more or less distinct, of this
association. So we have in Mr. Marshall's theory a peculiar
associational, intellectualistic interpretation ; not only must there
be an association of quality with feeling-tone but also an asso-
ciation of the regular coexistences of these two.

In fixing upon the value of Mr. Marshall's explanation of
the lower qualities we shall have to criticize briefly his general
theory. To what extent can we agree with him in his definition
of the conditions determining the esthetic character of qualities?

7. The esthetic character is less intellectual, less a product
of a series of individual experiences brought together in a single
judgment, than the theory would have it be. While in general
it is doubtless true that esthetic predicates are judgment predi-
cates in the narrower sense of the term, still the experiences to
which the esthetic judgment harks back need not be so remote
as Mr. Marshall's view implies. Within a single immediate
experience complex the esthetic judgment may be formulated,
and it need not involve any reference to other experiences than
just that one in which the quality being judged is actually given.
In short, wherever we may have a formal judgment there we
may have an esthetic judgment provided the quality being
judged behaves in a certain way which we shall try to describe.
When Mr. Marshall demands that a quality be pleasant in re-
vival, he is asking too much if he understands by ' revival ' what
this term usually means. The really essential condition, it
seems to me, is that the pleasure shall persist in connection with

is of no significance in the esthetic judgment. This objection is singularly de-
ficient ; for, in the first place, there is probably no direct connection between
artistic ability and esthetic appreciativeness. The artistic function is an imita-
tive motor one predominantly. And, in the second place, as already indicated,
there need be no direct correspondence between intensity of recall-image and
possibility of esthetic judgment. Regular coexistence of quality and feeling-
tone, regardless of respective intensities, is the only essential condition.

37° WALTER B. PIT KIN.

and in reference to the quality in question. How long this per-
sistence need be is just the question which needs answering ;
but it seems clear that the usual verdict would be against Mr.
Marshall's claim that the original quality must first disappear as
sensation at least once and then reappear, either in a new sensa-
tional form or as a recall image, in order to be called beautiful
or otherwise esthetic. This need of a preceding mass of ex-
periences is essential, no doubt, to the actual fulfilment of a
judgment act ; but for this reason it need not be a determinant
of the specific Sachverhalt described in a specific judgment act.

In other words, the real test of the esthetic character is to
be found in instances of immediate revival or direct persistence.
The way the original qualities plus their immediate feeling-tones
persist as such or else pass over into primary memory forms,
after-images, and the like is what decides whether those quali-
ties can be called esthetic or not. For in the character of this
persistence or transformation we find the conditions which make
possible or impossible attention to and reflection upon the qual-
ity-feeling complex, t. e., the conditions allowing or forbidding
judgment about this complex. Let us look then at the phenom-
ena themselves a moment.

What the organic connection between sensation quality and
feeling tone is has not yet been made clear. Ribot's belief that
both are results of currents along the same nerve-path, the sen-
sation being the swifter and the feeling-tone the slower one, is
of course only a conjecture. At all events though, everybody
is probably convinced that there is some profound organic con-
nection, and a corollary to the belief is that there is also an
organic connection between revivals and persistences of those
same experience quales. But whatever the principle of this
connection is, it is, so far as its ordinary manifestations disclose,
not very simple ; for we find striking irregularities in the persist-
ence and revival of sensations and their feeling-tones. In some
cases the sensation persists unchanged while the feeling-tone
has been highly modified ; in others we find the sensation
vanishing while the feeling-tone lingers most distinctly some
moments longer. Numerous other complications will suggest
themselves to the reader, those of most significance for the

ESTHETIC VALUE OF 'LOWER SENSES: 371

present discussion however, being such wherein the recall-
image of the sensation is either connected with or again wholly
free from a recall feeling or, again, a new immediate feeling-
tone (attaching to the recall act).

8. Returning to the particular case of lower sensations now,
we can conceive of at least two possible causes of the truly non-
esthetic nature of a given quality-complex : first, the sensation
quality itself may not revive or persist strongly enough to make
its original and * natural ' feeling tone revive ; or, secondly,
there may be some * irregularity ' in the fusion of sensation
quality with feeling tone such that the former might persist
without the latter. When we leave conjecture and turn to facts,
we find two large bodies of well confirmed observations which
indicate quite clearly the most vital connection between esthetic
effectiveness and ease and vividness of persistence ; the Galton
tests and studies in after-imagery. A cursory glance at the
results of these experimental investigations reveals, it seems to
me, a strikingly suggestive fact. It is generally found that
by far the strongest imagery (both after-imagery and secondary
revival) is confined to visual, auditory and kinesthetic qualities.
When we look to the field of esthetics and ask which quality-
species are unambiguously esthetic we find that, apart from com-
plexes depending obviously upon ordinary associations, music,
painting, sculpture and variants of these (rhythm, versification,
color and form schemes, etc.) constitute a realm of art and ap-
preciation almost transcendent to all other possible objects of
reflective enjoyment. In short, the same line of cleavage runs
through the results of studies in imagery and through the esthetic
field. It is difficult to look upon this as a mere coincidence.

If there is an organic connection between imagery and
esthetic judgment power we should expect to find individual
differences, in esthetic judgment corresponding in some degree
to differences in after-imagery. And, so far as rather general
observations are concerned, this seems to be the case ; studies
(all preliminary) made of students in Barnard College shown
no decisive results except in the extreme cases, which how-
ever are highly instructive.1 Students with exceptionally low

1 1 hope to be able to publish detailed results of further experiments on this
subject before long.

37 2 WALTER S. PIT KIN.

visual imagery (after-imagery and secondary revival alike)
proved but slightly susceptible to colors and color schemes ; the
* ideas * expressed in pictures and natural scenes affected them
normally, but sketches in black and white were neither less nor
more * beautiful ' than colored pictures. Of considerable interest
is one observation made, namely that one student found pleasure
in colored pictures but upon examination, attributed it simply
to the higher degree of imitation. None of the students in
question suffered from color-blindness. One other extreme case
was found in a student with slightly inferior auditory imagery
but very remarkable olfactory imagery ; to her, perfumes and
many nature odors such as wet grass, wet streets, hay, tar,
night air, etc., were much more 'beautiful' than music. She
affirmed that she 'often gloated over the smell of rain in memory.'
Unfortunately, no kinesthetic tests could be made in order to
fix upon the source of low musical appreciation.

The most significant experimental fact, however, is one
which I have confirmed in over one hundred cases, of which
less than one half were students, and which probably many
persons have incidentally observed ; an observer with the usual
development of imagery, when asked to decide whether tastes,
smells, temperatures, pressures and the like are * beautiful,'
' esthetic,' * pleasing to contemplate,' ' charming ' and so on,
almost invariably confesses to a sheer inability to pass such a
judgment. The predicates simply lack meaning, do not apply
even in their negative forms ; very often the answer that, for
instance, perfumes are not esthetically effective will be recanted
as soon as the observer is asked whether he means that they are
esthetically ineffective and positively unpleasant to contemplate.
A common revision of opinion among keener observers is this :
' perfumes are not unpleasant as objects of contemplation, to be
sure, but they do not seem to be contemplatable at all, or at
any rate they do not improve by contemplation/

This indicates the more logical sense in which the term
esthetic should be employed ; we must use it in such a way as
to permit the most exact and clear distinction between non-
esthetic (extra-esthetic) and unesthetic (a bad word, meaning
strictly negatively esthetic). Only by preserving this difference

ESTHETIC VALUE OF « LOWER SENSES.' 373

can we retain the dual nature of the esthetic experience, the im-
mediate pleasure and the pleasure of attending to this first
pleasure in its secondary (persistent, after-image) form. The
term * esthetic' is accordingly not to be used as referring merely
to acts of intrinsically pleasant attention to a content immedi-
ately and persistently pleasant ; it refers more fundamentally to
acts of attention to the feeling- tone of a larger content (e. £•.,
a content involving sensational, imagery and other factors).
Only by so using the word am I able to make clear to myself
the relation between the beautiful, the ugly and the extra-es-
thetic ; the ugly is that which can be contemplated in precisely
the same way as the beautiful can be, but the feelings resulting
from such contemplation are negatively toned. In the case of
tastes, temperatures, and the like we have in most individuals no
true attention act, or else — what is much more likely in many
instances — attention fails to develop any distinct feeling tone
of its own.

9. We may now sum up the revisions we would make to
Mr. Marshall's theory : what is here advanced is perhaps radi-
cally different from anything intended by Mr. Marshall, for,
instead of relying upon revivals of qualities as Mr. Marshall
does, we believe that the immediate persistence of qualities is
the decisive factor; finally, as already indicated, the use of the
term * esthetic ' varies markedly from Mr. Marshall's. Never-
theless, what is here suggested seems more in the spirit of his
theory than in that of any other, and especially so when one
takes into consideration the fact that Mr. Marshall accepts and
has developed Shadworth Hodgson's theory of immediate rep-
resentation, according to which representation is necessarily
involved in every presentational experience.1 Were Mr. Mar-
shall to construe * revival' so as to mean this immediate repre-
sentational background to every perception, the present hy-
pothesis would be compatible with his. On the other hand,
such a concession on his part would apparently demand a re-
vision of his use of the term * esthetic.'

The striking differences in esthetic value between various sen-
sation-species is traceable, in the last analysis, not to the imme-

1 Marshall: 'Presentation and Representation,' Mind, N. S., 57, p. 53 ff.

374 WALTER B. PITKIN.

diate feeling accompaniments of the various sensation qualities
but rather to a peculiarity of the judgment function, which de-
mands for its very existence a ' content ' with some degree of
central development, /. £., a content which is something more
than ' pure sensation.' Psychologically described, a certain
amount of time is required for the stimulus to develop into that
form which makes attention to it and to its feeling accompani-
ment -possible? There is a strong temptation to interpret this
fact to suit some theory of simple association ; for instance, the
need for a certain duration of the stimulus might be explained
by the time involved in inducing associations, affective and
otherwise. The * width of field, 'emphasized by Lotze, Guyau,
Marshall, and others, would then be made the true determinant.
But this is only a shifting of the problem and a postponement
of its solution ; for here it is implied that association, * degree
of reverberation,' or the like is the sole source of esthetic pleas-
ure. The ambiguities and difficulties of extreme associational-
ism in esthetics are too well known to be rediscussed. If we
grant, as virtually everybody does, immediate esthetic values we
must try to find the reasons for the presence and absence of
such values in the conditions determining the nature of imme-
diate experiences ; this can be done without precluding the pos-
sibility that associative factors have genetically influenced the
receptive character of the nervous organism so that certain
stimuli have gained thereby an esthetic power lacked by others.
Finally, even if we were to grant the primacy of association
here we would still have to admit that the complexity of the
imagery-background in any given case is dependent upon the
absolute power of persistence of the factors in that background ;
otherwise we would deny indirectly the cumulative character of
association and would admit that an almost momentary fringe
might be quite as effective as a relatively stable one.

2Fechner, Vorschule der Aesthetik, II., 241-3, was probably the first to ob-
serve certain general facts cognate to this one. He remarks that ' every stimu-
lus, and accordingly every esthetic one, must persist a certain time before its
effect is observable.' He seems to have had in mind, though, only the rougher
differences between relatively complex art objects, e. g., art lines, pictures,
melodies, etc. The bearing this same fact has upon the differences between the
senses was not noted by him, so far as I have been able to discover.

ESTHETIC VALUE OF ' LOWER SENSES: 375

In speaking of the persistence of the * content ' it must be
borne in mind that both sensation quality and feeling-tone are
referred to. There must be feeling after-imagery above all
things and the feeling thus persisting must have a constant
intrinsic reference to a definite sensation quality. This being
true, it now becomes clear that many various relations between
quality and tone are possible. For instance, an original sensa-
tion may have one feeling tone while its after-image in its pure
form (/. £., unmodified by the sensation persisting) may have
another, as in the sense of a very intense light which, as is well
known, we may declare beautiful although the stimulus is
decidedly painful. Or, again, a sensation may persist longer
than its original feeling tone, becoming being neutrally or nega-
tively toned, as in the case of many tastes and smells, which
show rapid changes in affective coloring- Or, once more, the
original feeling tone can outlast the sensation quality ; this is
perhaps the commonest case, for the affective tone is, in colors
and sounds and rhythms particularly, often very vivid long after
even the distinct after-images have faded away. Quite com-
monly our * memory for ' sensation complexes is really a mem-
ory of the feeling phase of these same ; and the same is true of
the less remote forms of such experiences, e. g., these experi-
ences during the first few seconds of their existence.

In the case of * lower ' sensation species it is well-known
that we find > a much more rapid 'dampening' of the after-
images as well as more rapid adaptation ; the duration of dis-
tinct after-images in odors, tastes, pressures, and temperatures
is conspicuously less than that of visual, auditory and kines-
thetic images, while the persistence of the former class of sen-
sations without qualitative variation is almost immeasurably
briefer than the persistence of the latter class. Both of these
facts plainly contribute to explain how it is that, when called
upon to judge the lower sensations esthetically, we find it much
simpler and more natural to admit that we cannot do so than to
decide for or against them. And this is true even when the
feeling tones of the sensations in question are unambiguous
(pleasant or unpleasant). Viewing this phenomenon from the
standpoint of the psychology of judgment it seems safe to con-

376 WALTER B. PITKIN.

elude that, by virtue of the non-parallel variation of sensation
quality and feeling tone, this latter loses its reference to the
former so that, although we may well be aware of our affective
state now and also may recall that it originated contemporane-
ously with the recalled sensation quality, nevertheless quality
and tone are empirically distinct experiences, neither being a
mere predicate of the other.

Furthermore there is a greater mass of imagery elements in
the background of the higher sensations ; that is, with higher
persistence we find richer after images forming a virtually
homogeneous constellation, or rather nebula, which, by virtue
of its structure and elements, fluctuates much less violently
(under favorable conditions), lasts longer, vanishes more imper-
ceptibly than do the backgrounds of the lower sensations. It
is this peculiarity, more obviously than any other, which makes
judgment easy. It is that characteristic which in its more com-
plex and mixed forms, has long since been recognized by
estheticians as highly significant, namely * ease of attention ' or
objectively put, * the stability of the object/ If either sensa-
tion quality or feeling tone dampens or changes too rapidly,
there is difficulty found in attending and in passing judgment ;
and — this the really important case, I think — if the rates of
variation of the two phases are too different, the difficulty of
passing judgment upon an affectively toned sensation is exces-
sively great, if not absolutely insurmountable.

In conclusion it may be wise to state that the above explan-
ation leaves us free to regard the difference between higher and
lower sensations as relative to the individual and subject to
genetic variations ; but at the same time we cannot deny the
genuineness and reality of the difference. Guyau's belief that
any quality may be esthetic is to be rejected save perhaps in its
rather fruitless metaphysical sense that there is nothing intrinsic
to sensations as bare quales which prevents these from ever
being esthetic. Lastly, there is no intention to reduce all
differences in esthetic values to a mere difference in imagery
persistence. Imagery persistence is rather an esthetic a priori,
whose presence makes the esthetic attitude possible (but not
necessary) and whose absence inhibits that attitude totally.

ESTHETIC VALUE OF « LOWER SENSES: 377

Esthetic differences between colors need not be attributed solely
to different imagery coefficients of these latter, although it is
possible that such may play some part in the differentiation.
But the difference between qualities — usually visual, auditory,
and kinesthetic — which are unmistakably esthetic and those
with reference to which esthetic predicates seem simply mean-
ingless is, I think, wholly explicable in the above manner. l

1 The MS. of this article was received June 16, 1906. — ED.

STUDIES FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL LABOR-
ATORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

COMMUNICATED BY PROFESSOR JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.

A STUDY OF CERTAIN PHENOMENA CONCERNING THE LIMIT

OF BEATS.

BY DR. A. WYCZOLKOWSKA.
I.

Wundt1 gives as the limit of beats (Schwebungen) 30-60,
Helmholtz2 132, Shaefer 253-341, Stumpf s 427. What can be
the reason of these differences?

As I began my observations of beats my attention was called
to the fact that an error could easily be introduced in these
researches, due to the influence of noises that accompany every
tone. This led me first to the analysis of the entire scale of
tones from 8 to 36,000 vibrations, with reference to the clearness
of separate tones. I conducted this analysis first alone and
then with five persons, mostly specialists in psychology in the
psychological laboratory of Berlin. I had at my disposal the
tuning forks of Engelmann [20-853 vibrations] , Koenig [512-
2,048] and Appunn [8-56, 2,048-40,960], together with organ
pipes ranging from c1 .... up to e6.

All tones of the scale were sounded in turn lightly and
sharply and were observed and compared until a statement could
be made concerning the degree of clearness or the kind of
noises accompanying them.

The result of these observations was the division of the scale
into the following eight types of tones :

Mr. P. and Mr. F. Dr. I,, and A. W.

Vibrations. Vibrations.

I. 8-18 Countable and Countable and 8-18

C3 D2 fluttering. fluttering.

1 Phys. Psychologic, II., 95, 104 (sth ed.).

2 On the Sensations of Tones, 171 (3d English ed.).
Tonpsychologie, II., 461.

378

PHENOMENA CONCERNING LIMITS OF BEATS. 379

II.
III.

IV.

VI.

Vibrations.

20-6o

64-120

C H

288-480

d1 hi
853-1,536

3,200-4,096
g#* c6

VII. 6,826-9,216
a5 d6

VIII. 10,240

Fluttering.

Rumbling and
rich in tone.1

Metallic and com-
pletely smooth.

Sharp pointed
but smooth.

Painful although
with distinct
tone quality.

Consciousness of
the pitch begins
to vanish.

Limit for pitch dis-
crimination.
Twittering.

Fluttering.
Rumbling and

rich in tone.8
Metallic and

buzzing.
Sharp-pointed but

rushing.
Painful and shrill. 3,072-4,266

Vibrations.

20-60
96-170

320-640
853-1,920

Poor in tone 7,680-9,600

quality and hissing.

Twittering over-
powered the tone.

10,922-16,384

Between these special rates of vibrations were found transi-
tion tones that belong to neither one nor the other neighboring
type (white spaces in Figs. I, 2 and Fig. 4, b).

Interesting in this research are the individual differences.
Two observers, namely, Mr. P. and Mr. F., discriminate noises
only up to 120 vibrations. They stated positively that the tones
between c1 and d6 were perfectly smooth. Nevertheless they
continued the discrimination of the special types of tones.2 They
differentiated in the middle scale metallic tones from sharp-
pointed and from painful ones. Other observers, on the con-
trary, affirmed that every tone is joined with a certain kind of
noise which changes only with the change of pitch. Dr. L.,
after examination of every tone of the scale, called these noises
fluttering, roaring, rumbling, buzzing, etc. Concerning h3 he
said: " I hear again a kind of roughness and I think it will
never disappear completely." He affirmed the same in regard
to tones of 1,200, 2,400 and 4,800 vibrations. The tones be-
tween g1* and f2 are the smoothest [d2 to d f2 bring * silver-
tones'], but are not perfectly free from noise.

1 The vibration rates are given in accordance with the tables of tones issued
by Stumpf and Schaefer, 1901, Leipzig.

2 Preyer observed the discontinuity of tones up to 300 vibrations : " Ueber
die grenzen der Touwahrnehmung," p. 14 ; Stumpf describes the lack of smooth-
ness in the lower tones auda kind of trembling (Zittern), perceived by the touch
sense, up to 1,500 vibrations. 7onpsychol.t I., p. 203.

380

A. WYCZOLKOWSKA.

PHENOMENA CONCERNING LIMITS OF BEATS. 381

It is to be mentioned that a1 of this part of the scale serves
as a standard in Europe for the tuning of all instruments.

A Swedish physician, Dr. S., expresses himself to the same
effect. From E2 up to gl he describes these noises as distinct
and exciting attention. Of d2 he says * I hear a whistling similar
to that heard in valvular disease of the heart.' Of g2, * I hear
the sound separately from the noise. M He designates the noise
belonging to C3 by a Swedish word * straj.'

J,/VWWW\

o, AVWVWWXA

FIG. 3. Showing visualization of beats as explained in text.

Special Details. — In every tone we can hear different kinds
of rhythmic fluctuations that are the most distinct between e1
and a2. These fluctuations were visualized by a few observers

JMax Meyer in his article 'Ueber die Rauhigkeit tiefer Tone,' Zeitschrift
fur Psychologic, 13, p. 75, expresses himself theoretically in the same way.

382 A. WYCZOLKOWSKA.

in the following way: Fig. 3. They are slow in the cases
numbered I, quicker in those numbered 2, and quickest in 3.

The comparison of the most prominent fluctuations with the
pulse by help of the metronome gives the following average
from four persons (the metronome being adjusted to coincide
with the fluctuations) :

Tone. Metronome. Pulse.
D 56 72

C« 58 70

d#« 72 68

d 69 66

A later measurement of the same phenomenon in reference
to the time gives in five seconds 5 fluctuations of the first, 10-12
of the second, 20-24 of the third kind. This measurement
must be regarded as approximate merely.

II.

Observing the beats I have searched first to find their limit.
After a long analysis of all intervals of the perceptible scale I
found that a certain kind of roughness was still to be heard in
d3 a3 with tuning forks of Engelmann and in c* g4 with the organ
pipes. I found a confirmation of it in the statement of other
observers. Dr. L. says, "I hear in c4 g4 something like traces
of beats." A second confirmation I obtain in the tuning forks
g4 c5 of Landry. (Physical Lab. Chicago Univ.) But I would
not assign too much importance to such results, for they are
not only dependent on personal differences but probably on the
degree of perfection in the tuning forks. More valuable
seemed to me an approximate topography of beats with refer-

g| = Countable.

1— H = Intermittent, but too rapid to be counted.

{HP = Roughness.

[j$j = Maximum of Ringing.

f^] == Ringing.

Key to FiG. 4a.

PHENOMENA CONCERNING LIMITS OF BEATS. 383

'Si

384 A. WYCZOLKOWSKA.

ence to their quality, intensity and feeling-tone which is indi-
cated in diagram 4, a.

A close observation of all intervals in every octave shows
that there are three kinds of beats : (i) Beats of the main tones,
which break into two subdivisions : (a) beats that can easily be
counted, and (3) beats of distinct intermittence too fast however
to be counted. (2) Beats, or better roughness, originating
mostly from difference tones. (3) Beats recognized as a char-
acteristic ringing.1

Beats of the first kind expire in c1 d1 (Fig. 4, a, small
squares). We count them easily in c1 c!# but with great diffi-
culty in c1 d1.

The beats in which the intermittence is still prominent are
of longer duration. They are still heard in c1 e1.2 In c2 e2 we
hear also an intermittence of two tones, but mixed with a shrill
outburst of difference-tones which makes the observation diffi-
cult. With larger intervals the beats of basal tones can not be
heard, but there is a certain roughness in which the difference-
tone is prominent. Traces of this roughness persisted until

c'g4.

Now if I strike a fifth c1 gl more sharply, or if I strike the
lower tone of the fifth lightly and the higher one more strongly
after a few seconds, I obtain beats of a different kind, usually
a kind of soft and countable ringing. It is an interesting fact
that this ringing, though weak in the fourth and the sixth, is much
stronger in the fifth. The fifth seems to afford a maximum for
this ringing, while the second is a maximum for the beats of
the first kind.

But these beats do not appear in the same way in all the
tuning forks. They are very distinct in the tuning forks of
Engelmann (Psychol. Laboratory, Berlin) and of Edelmann
(Lewis Institute, Chicago), are less so in tuning forks of Koenig
(Psychol. Labor., University of Chicago) and of Landry (Phy-
sic. Labor., University of Chicago).

1 Max Meyer (Zur Theorie der Differenztone, Zeitschrift fur Psychol., 1898)
compared it with the ringing of church bells.

2 According to F. Kruger ( ' Beobachtungen an Zweiklangen,' Phil. Stud.,
VIII., 335), who indicates the limit of beats with tempered tones in and above
one octave, the major third c1 e1 is considered free of beats.

PHENOMENA CONCERNING LIMITS OF BEATS. 385

The soft ringing is prominent in the following intervals with
the tuning forks :

Engelmann. Edelmann. Koenig. Landry.

cis gis1 c1 gl c1 g1 cl gl

fis cis1 d1 a1 d1 a1 d' a>

g d1 e'h1 g«c«

ci gi ci fi

di a' d1 g1

c^a1
d1 hl

In order to render graphic all these details I use the follow-
ing easily understood figure (Fig. 4,0). The musical sign of
* crescendo ' and * decrescendo ' is used as a kind of frame for
a series of circles that represent so many octaves of the scale.
This sign by a progressive enlarging and diminution of circles
represents graphically the maximum and the progressive dimin-
ution of intensity in the beats. Each circle is divided into 6

FIG 5. To illustrate the divisions into intervals of the circles in Fig. 4a.

sections of 30° each which represent 6 intervals of every octave
(Fig. 5). Various forms of lines (as explained in the legends
and key) represent beats that are caused by the main tones and
by the difference-tones. Small squares indicate beats that can
be counted ; horizontal lines, beats with prominent intermittence.
Vertical and diagonal lines illustrate the roughness of difference
tones ; parts of black circles the soft ringing, diagonal lines
with circular cross lines its maximum.1

Special Details About the Feeling-Tone. — The beats gen-
erally are not disagreeable in the middle octaves, but in the

1 This diagram can be used easily to show the beats of tempered tones or of
intervals wider than one octave.

386 A. WYCZOLKOWSKA.

lower and the higher ones they produce sensations that are un-
pleasant to the ear. So, for instance, the beats called ' Stosse'
or strokes of the lower tones are disagreeable because they pro-
duce sensations of touch upon the tympanum. The beats of
the difference-tones in the higher octaves are disagreeable be-
cause of their shrillness.

Very characteristic are the beats of every third. It seems
as if the tones of the third were aesthetically better united
with each other than those of other intervals and richer in
upper-tones, which give to the third a more harmonious
sound.

Lastly is to be noted the correspondence of the beats with
the division of tones made before. (Fig. 4, #, and 4, b.*) The
beats appear in the region of tones in which the intensity and
the pitch of the tones is easy to appreciate ; they disappear in
the region in which the perception of tones is very disagreeable
and the pitch difficult to judge. The ringing appears mostly in
the tones that are characterized by prominent rhythmic fluctua-
tions. (Fig. 4, a, circumferential lines.)

This topography of beats now permits an answer to the
question asked at the beginning of this article, namely, why the
limits given by Wundt, Helmholtz, and Stumpf are so far re-
moved from one another.

Wundt has observed only the beats of the main tones. He
says:1 " Bei Schwebungen, welche die Zahl 30 merklich
tibersteigen, vermag unser Ohr die einzelnen Tone nicht mehr
auseinander zu halten." Or:2 "Ich verhalte mich demnach
alien Behauptungen gegenliber, nach denen noch weit iiber 60
Schwebungen als solche wahrnehmbar sein sollen, skeptisch.
Ich glaube, dass sie theils auf mangelhafter psychologischer
Unterscheidung der verschiedenen Stadien des Schwebungs-.
phaenomens theils auf der Vermengung mit den Schwebungen
von Differenztonen beruhen."

Fig. 4 shows that the beats which can be counted nearly
disappear at 32. The second cM1 is difficult to count. But a
prominent intermittence is to be found up to 64 vibrations ;

lPhys. Psychologic, 36 ed., I., 438.
2Phys. Psychologic, 5th ed., II., 104.

PHENOMENA CONCERNING LIMITS OF BEATS. 387

c-f# = 51 vib.
c'e1 =64 "
c2d2 =64 "

In the octave c2c8 the intermittence is less conspicuous because
the beats of principal tones are mixed with the outburst of the
difference tones.

The beats that were observed by Helmholtz are in the basal
tones again. He pointed out the limit in h3c4 (= 132) saying,
however, that the beats in this octave are much weaker.1
" Taking b'c" one octave higher we have b"c"' with 66 beats,
and another octave would give us b'"c"" with as many as 132
beats, and these are really audible in the same way as the 33
beats of b'c", although they certainly become weaker in the
higher positions." Or : " We can pass gradually from 4 to 132
beats in a second, and convince ourselves that though we become
incapable of counting them, their character as a series of pulses
of tone, producing an intermittent sensation, remains unaltered."
Stumpf 2 identified the beats with the roughness of difference-
tones at 427 vibrations. He says : " Bei a4 h4 war die Schwe-
bung fur mich noch deutlich und zwar fasste ich sie als die
Rauhigkeit des Differenztones."

The roughnesses that I found with d3a3 or with g 4c5 are the
traces of this ringing described before. The reason for this
seems to lie in the summation of the rhythmic fluctuations, the
speed and even the inconstancy of both being nearly the same.3

lOp. dt. 171.

*Op. tit. 461.

3 The author herewith extends her cordial thanks and hearty appreciation
to the officials of the various laboratories in which the present investigation has
been conducted for their courteous assistance and encouragement.

The MS. of this article was received July 28, 1906. — Ed.

INTRODUCTION TO EXPERIMENTAL LOGIC.1

BY PROFESSOR J. MARK BALDWIN,
Johns Hopkins University.

§ i. WHAT EXPERIMENTAL LOGIC Is.

In opening the discussion of the more refined operations of
the logical mode, together with its meanings for consciousness,
we should first of all justify the term * experimental' logic which
we are applying to this branch of the larger subject of genetic
theory of knowledge. This we may do by explaining first
the sense in which the matter constitutes logic, and second, the
sense in which it is experimental.

The treatment of the operations of thinking, that is, of the
discursive or reasoning faculty generally, under the term Logic,
is so conventional and established, that further defence of it is
not necessary.2 It is only the nature of the method adopted —
the method called * genetic ' — involving as it does, a pecu-
liar point of view, that distinguishes the present treatment.
That method consists in tracing out the movement of the
function of cognition — in this case, the logical mode of it as
such — in its great typical movements or * progressions,' with
the attempt to determine the ' how,' « why,' and « whereun-
to ' of each stage in the advance. Thinking is thus consid-
ered in the light of an effective function, working upon the ob-
jects of cognition, having adequate motives for its passage from
one stage to another, and pursuing its characteristic method in
achieving each successive stage. It is this general conception
of a logic that is genetic 3 that justifies the isolation of the func-
tion of thinking for special treatment.

1 Being the ' Introduction ' to the second volume of the writer's work on
* Genetic Logic ' entitled Thought and Things. It may be taken to supplement
the ' Introduction ' to the first volume of the work, on ' Functional Logic '
(Sonnenschein and Macmillans, 1906), referred to in this paper as Vol. I.

2 See the account of ' Formal Logic' in Vol. I., Chap. I., \ 2.

3 See the detailed exposition of the field and scope of Genetic Logic, Vol.
I., Chap. I.
388

INTRODUCTION TO EXPERIMENTAL LOGIC. 389

In adopting the term experimental logic, a certain general
result of the treatment itself is anticipated. That result is, in
brief, as follows. The logical operations as such, considered
as the essential method of advance or progress in the mode of
thought, proceed by experimentation, or to use the more special
term employed in the first volume of this work, by a process
of ' schematism.' This consists essentially in the experimental
erection of an object already made-up in consciousness, and its
treatment as having a meaning or value which // has not yet
been found to have, with the expectation and intent that in the
result it may be found to have it. It is, in the logical mode, an
intentional and conscious use of a method established and found
fruitful in the pre-logical stages of psychic assimilation and
handling of objective contents, as has been shown in another
place.1 The results of what may be called the * progression
of experimentation ' as a method may be summarized for our
present purposes under a separate heading.

§ 2. THE PROGRESSION OF THE EXPERIMENTAL MODE.

The development of cognition, in its essential progress, is
always one of increasing determinateness in the two great mo-
ments that enter into its objective meanings. These two mo-
ments are the content and the control. The content is what it
is because /'/ 1*5 determined and controlled to be that and no other
object. Besides its determination as having this or that make-
up, consistency, subsistence, it is controlled as capable of being
referred to one or other of those spheres or classes which be-

1 Vol. I., Chap. V., I 6 ; Chap. VI. A 4 : Chap. VIII., \\ 6-8. It will be seen
from the division given in the table in Chap. I., § 6 of that volume, that the
larger topic of 'functional logic' includes what is here called experimental logic;
for it is \h^ function of knowledge in the mode called * logical ' that is now to
be taken up. Both on account of its special characters, however, and also on
account of its traditional monopolizing of the term logic, it is worthy of de-
tailed treatment and also of a special name. To those, we may add, who do
not admit that experimental processes exhaust the procedure of the mode of
thinking, we have only to say — let the scope then of ' experimental logic ' be
restricted to those operations which are and are shown to be experimental.
There will then be left over for another discipline — formal, deductive, rational
or whatever it be called — the problems which such non-experimental processes
present. To such thinkers the problems of this volume will be found to be
among those of the discussions sometimes known as ' empirical logic.'

390 J. MARK BALD WIN.

come, for consciousness, existences, substances, and realities.
The process of contextuation of content might go on ad libitum
by the mere presence together of items, images, fancies, etc. ;
but it would be meaningless. If, however, meanings are to
arise whereby such contexts have reference to the spheres in
which in some sense they hold good, then different controls
must also be derived and developed in our theory.

Now it is on the side of such reference, such control, such
assignment of possible and present combinations of contents to
their spheres of fulfilment that a method of selecting, testing,
exerting or acknowledging control is necessary ; and this we
find, as the result of our detailed examination of cognitive
process, to be one of experimentation. The main stages of its
determination — its progressive modes, so to speak, as worked
out in the earlier volume — are as follows.

(1) The ' semblant' or make-believe use of an object having
merely inner character as image of fancy, whereby it is treated
for playful or other personal purposes as having further mean-
ing or reference. The object thus becomes a * scheme,' a
schema^ charged with the further meaning which it, in its own
right, has not as yet been found to have.

(2) The erection of such schemata in an experimental way
under the urgency of a desired or intended fulfilment. There
results either fulfilment or non-fulfilment, and either is a marked
accretion to the original meaning so erected. Thus by the ex-
perimentation both the determination and the control are essenti-
ally advanced. In the pre-logical modes, consciousness has no
other way — barring possibly certain brutal intrusions upon it1

— of advancing or effectively selecting its meanings.

(3) The most important instance of this before the rise of
reflection is that which issues in ' generalization.' By the
use of a schema as a meaning adequate to embrace many in-
stances, and hence experimentally taken to mean them^ it 'is dis-
covered what cases may properly in the particular instance be
meant. The individuation of objects as general, particular,
singular and universal — as is shown in the earlier discussion —
is secured by this process of schematism.

1 To these, however, it must still accommodate itself, by ' trial-and error '
processes which are in type experimental.

INTRODUCTION TO EXPERIMENTAL LOGIC. 391

(4) The transition to the logical mode as one of reflection, is
accomplished again by an act of essential experimentation. The
contexts which are still ambiguous in their meanings as general
and particular, under whatever control, are all alike erected as
schemata within the larger control they have in common — that
of the inner life or experience. From this point of view, that
of experience under a control functioningas judgment, the con-
tents may severally get whatever further assignments the sc/ifni-
atisin of this mode may secure. The entire context of experi-
ence— idea, hypothesis, imagination — becomes available for
experimental treatment in the problematic forms of judgment
which embody variations in belief. The schematism of the
logical mode becomes the method of determining belief; and
the entire development of logical meanings may be treated
from the point of view of ascertaining the forms in which the
relative determinateness or indeterminateness of belief takes
form in presupposition, postulation, implication or other mode
of acknowledgment or assurance.

In other words, as of cognition generally, so here ; there is
the established and there is the not-yet-established, the content
and the intent, the fact used as anticipatory schema of richer
fulfilment. The method whereby consciousness, by using a
meaning experimentally, establishes and advances it, holds for
thinking also.

If this be the exclusive method, or even the principal
method, whereby thinking does its work, then it is quite proper
to call this department of genetic logic 'experimental.' The
further questions as to the limits of experimentation and the
possible advancement of meanings by some other process or by
no process at all — these may in turn be solved by the inquiry
itself, or, if left over, made subject of separate disciplines.

It will, therefore, serve the interest of clearness, if we define
experimental logic as that enquiry which, pursuing genetic
and functional methods, investigates thinking with a view to
tracing the derivation, development , and embodiments of belief .^

1 These three words indicate the problems 'why,' 'how,' and 'what' of
the logical mode, although in the treatment which follows the topics are taken
up rather with reference to divisions current in the literature. ' How ' belief

392 /• MARK BALDWIN.

§ 3. THE Two TYPES OF SCHEMATISM.

Speaking still on the general topic of experimentation, we
may say that there are two contrasted ways in which a content
may be made schematic and so be used experimentally. These
illustrate respectively the methods of advance of the two great
sorts of meaning, * recognitive ' and * selective' — or meaning
established by recognition and held up as true, and meaning
selected by and for appreciation and held up as, in some imme-
diate sense, good or « fit.' l

It is evident that these two types of meaning result from and
appeal to different motives. The items of established fact are
taken as just what they are, and used for the discovery of
further items of fact. Only so far as the content is stripped of
selective and personal meaning, of all interpretation beyond its
bare outline as a context of knowledge, only so far is it avail-
able for the schematism whose motive is theoretical. The
schema of this sort is instrumental to the development of knowl-
edge as such, of a representative and convertible system of cog-
nitions ; in short, to the development of what is to be acknowl-
edged as true. This may be called ' scientific ' or theoretical
schematism. On the other hand, the furtherance of special
personal purposes and interests requires a schematism of its own
sort. This consists in the selective use of a context as * fit ' to
fulfil a purpose or end and thus * good ' for that purpose or end.
The items chosen are appreciated as * good' or * fit,' and the-
further advance is in the confirmation and development of
this sort of appreciable fitness. The development of selective
meanings in the pre-logical modes is by this sort of schematic

embodies itself in judgments is taken up in one chapter, and in ' common ' judg-
ments in another ; * why ' it is thus embodied is the question of ' schematism '
in two chapters. The question ' What ?' suggests the topic of the organization
of logical meanings in a system, which is also treated in considerable detail ; and
the limitations of thinking, together with the new problems set by the logical
function itself, are given full consideration.

The correlation might be pointed out between the scheme of results sum.
marized in this Introduction and those worked out from the objective point
of view in the writer's paper on ' Selective Thinking ' (printed as Chap. XVII-
in the work Development and Evolution].

1 See the theory of 'Meaning ' worked out in Vol. I., Chap. 7.

INTRODUCTION TO EXPERIMENTAL LOGIC, 393

or experimental use of contents.1 In the logical mode it may
be called * selective ' or ' appreciative* schematism.

The further treatment of these two sorts of experimental use
of contents is to follow ; they are mentioned in this Introduction
in order to point out that with the rise of judgment as character-
istic control in reflection, all appreciations as such are made
truths, all selective meanings are made theoretical meanings —
so far as they are made subject-matter of reflection. Experi-
mental logic, therefore, after it has found it to be the fate of
appreciations to be thus taken up in judgments of experience or
fact, has no longer anything to do with them as appreciations ;
for it then deals with such meanings from the point of view of
judgments of truth motived by theoretical interest.

The further development of these appreciative meanings
goes on, it is true, in its own right ; but experimental logic, as
theory of reflective or logical procedure, loses its claim upon
them. There is indeed the special need of inquiring in detail
as to the function whereby the items of selective schematism
arise and are found eligible or * fit ' ; this is to be discussed in
the treatment of the hyper-logical modes. The operations of
the constructive imagination, in its selection of materials with
reference to what may be called purposive or normative ideals,
is to be distinguished from that other sort of schematic use of a
context whose aim is to extend its comprehension in the domain
of fact or truth. It is the latter with which the developments of
our text heretofore have had mainly to do, and to which this
volume is to be exclusively devoted.

The preservation of this distinction is subject, however, to a
complication which we may as well point out now, especially as
it enables us to introduce a scheme of definite terminology that
will later on stand us in good stead. It is the complication that,
while disclaiming any motive of a personal or purposive sort in
its theoretical schematism and experimentation, yet reflective
process is itself motived by its own interest. The interest and
purpose to know and to know only what is resolutely true
to fact, requires a certain restriction of the scope and function
of the mental life to that more direct field of psychic vision we

i See Vol. I., Chap. VIII., g 9.

394 /• MARK BALDWIN.

call the * theoretical.' This results in a fulfilment, a renewed
appreciation, of its own type. We will find, therefore, that the
separation of the two modes of rendering the meanings of
knowledge is not final ; nor are they exclusive inter se as to
content. Not only do appreciated experiences become when
judged theoretical ; but judged contents are appreciated as ful-
filling the ideal set up by theoretical interest. A logical solu-
tion of a problem meets the demand for logical validity and so
fulfils the interest of its theoretical pursuit.

There is, therefore, when we reach the logical mode, need
of careful distinction of the various sorts of * interest ' that mo-
tive these great progressions of meaning. Accepting the dis-
tinction already advanced between the psychic and psycholog-
ical points of view,1 we may recognize * practical,' * pragmatic,'
* pragmatelic,' and ' theoretical ' interests. * Practical ' interest
is that which motives the mass of contents of cognition and
action 2 as fused together in their early flow and development.
The interest of the child in his tea-spoon is practical. It is an
interest in which the factors of knowledge and action have not
yet been isolated. * Pragmatic ' interest is the practical inter-
est considered from the objective and psychological point of
view. For example, with my knowledge of the child's proc-
esses, I may describe his interest as having consequences, bear-
ings and motives which he himself does not apprehend. My
account of his interest makes it a pragmatic interest. The
dualism of the factors of knowledge arises, however, in later
modes in consciousness, and the relative opposition between re-
cognitive and selective meanings appears. This is consum-
mated in the segregation of the interests that clearly motive
knowledge over against the contexts acknowledged and judged.
So there arise ' theoretical ' interest on the one side — interest in
maintaining and furthering the context of knowledge 3 — and over

'Vol. L, Chap. 7, §3.

3 Action in the large sense, as including fulfilments, consequences, etc., in
what is called ' practical life.'

3 From the objective point of view this is the ' logical ' interest. It may be
named with reference to its psychic end, ' nootehc.' Interests of the type that
motive objects of the ' semblant ' sort are ' autotelic ' in the play-mode (see
Vol. I., Chap. VI., £ 5), and — drawing still upon the Greek — ' syn-telic ' in
the ^Esthetic mode (to be discussed in Vol. III.).

INTRODUCTION TO EXPERIMENTAL LOGIC. 395

against it * pragmatelic ' interest, which terminates upon the
system of satisfactions, fulfilments, appreciations, as such.
These fulfilments are now isolated, set up as psychic meanings,
and made ends of pursuit.

The two points just made may be stated in terms of interest.
The objects of pragmatelic interest, appreciated as fulfilling •,
are, when judged to be objective experiences, placed in a context
of recognitive and common meanings, and are thus made ob-
jects of theoretical interest. On the other hand, the items of
knowledge in a measure reduced to a context of theoretical in-
terest, are thereby made pragmatelic, since the fulfilment of the
theoretical interest is a real fulfilment and satisfaction, although
its ideal involves the denial of the interest in fulfilments as such.

We shall find, therefore, in the sequel, that the whole field
of meanings of appreciation will also bear interpretation as a
field of theoretical truths, and that the whole field of theoretical
knowledges may be interpreted as meanings of fulfilment and
appreciation. In short, the entire body of psychic objects may
be both true and good in appropriate senses at the same time.
That is, putting it somewhat differently, a self-consciousness
cannot be aware of its own satisfactions without also judging
them as objects of experience ; and such a consciousness can-
not judge or acknowledge its experience, without also appreci-
ating it as being good for what it is.1

1 But this, of course, is anticipatory (of Vol. III. ). The approaches to such
a point of view may be found in the chapters 'Origin v. Nature,' Dcvel. and
Evolution ( Chap. XIII. ) , and * The Cosmic and the Moral, ' Fragments in Philos.
and Science (V '.). In this latter chapter, published originally in the Interna-
tional Journal of Ethics (October, 1895), it is contended that the ' ends ' of eth-
ical pursuit — the contents of the ' ought ' — are, as they are attained, added to
the context of theoretical truth (the contents of the 'is').

DISCUSSION.
CERTAIN CHARACTERISTICS OF EXPERIENCE.

Recent philosophical discussions have made extensive use of the
term experience. This is practically true of the new empiricism
which styles itself pragmatism and of absolute idealism as set forth by
Royce. These discussions have made it apparent that this term, like
many others of its kind, has no finally settled meaning, and that it can
thus be pressed into service as the starting point of lines of thought
which in the end are widely separated.

That any ultimate agreement as to what experience really signifies
can be reached is perhaps too much to be hoped, yet any attempt to
clear up some of the obscurities which attach to the present use of the
term need not offer a plea of justification. I venture, therefore, to
suggest in the following pages some of those marks of experience
which seem most important in the present state of philosophic un-
certainty.

I. There are some points of common agreement in regard to the
nature of experience, and I believe it can be stated without serious
fear of contradiction that experience must be taken as the ultimate
essence of the universe. It is neither derived from, nor conditioned
by, anything else. Both pragmatist and absolute idealist have clearly
recognized this truth. To have done this is a great gain, but the value
of the position has been materially lessened by the interpretation of
the meaning of experience which these two schools of thought have
arrived at. Both have found in experience something that goes be-
yond human consciousness. The pragmatist, if we are to follow
James, seems to find his starting point in an infra-human and infra-
conscious experience, the absolutist seeks the goal of reality in a super-
human experience. In the speculations of James ' pure experience '
has come to designate the primitive reality from which related human
experience has sprung, while on the other hand Royce and Bradley
have passed beyond human experience and have arrived at the expe-
rience of an absolute thinker, who because of his very absoluteness
is completely transcendent. The absolute idealist enquires whither
thought is tending, while the pragmatist enquires whence it came,

396

DISCUSSION. 397

but neither has arrived at anything actual. Both found their specu-
lations on consciousness, consciousness as we know it, human con-
sciousness, with all its limitations and imperfections. There is no
way of transcending this individual consciousness unless we take the
deadly leap. Absolute idealism leaps forward, pragmatism backward ;
absolute idealism carries thought to its completion and its negation,
while pragmatism traces it back to its original chaos whence it came.
In a world of infinite possibilities of experience we cannot arrive at
the completion the absolutist posits, neither in a world of finite rela-
tions can we trace thought back to its pure immanency before these
relations were evolved.

II. In opposition to both these views I venture to suggest that
experience has a complete identity with finite consciousness. The
two terms should be taken as interchangeable. There is no conscious-
ness that is not experience and no experience that is not conscious. If
we make experience wider than consciousness then we shall be obliged
to think of an experience which is prior to consciousness. Such an
experience, however, could never be known, and must forever remain
a pure abstraction, a veritable Ding-an-sich for human beings. James
thinks of pure experience as the original stuff from which everything
is derived. Known and knower are parts of pure experience and
develop from it. Yet he also describes this same pure experience as
the original flux of life before reflection has categorized it. u Only
new-born babes and persons in a semi-coma from sleep, dreams, ill-
ness or blows can have an experience pure in the literal sense of a
that which may not yet be defined as a what" Here pure experience
is made identical, apparently, with mere sensation or feeling. It is a
subconscious affair — but the subconscious is still conscious. I
emphasize this apparent contradiction to show how difficult it is to
escape the assumption that experience must be conscious in order to
be 'experience. Consciousness cannot be a function of experience,
then, as James would have us believe. He himself cannot carry this
doctrine to its legitimate conclusion, but is forced to find in pure
experience rudimentary consciousness.

While we must be on our guard to avoid this error of an infra-con-
scious experience, we must be equally careful to recognize that there
can be no consciousness (at least as far as we can know it) that is not
itself experience. In other words there can be no pure consciousness
which can ever be gotten at.

Experience implies a content, and consciousness must possess, even
in its lowest forms, a noetic element in order to be conceived as con-

398 CERTAIN CHARACTERISTICS OF EXPERIENCE.

sciousness. Mere immediate consciousness, a pure feeling without
differentiation or direction, if it exists cannot be known. Only objects
are known and for an experience to be an element in a subsequent and
wider experience it must contain objective elements.

III. Further it must be insisted that experience is always the sub-
ject and never the object. What we actually know are objects ex-
perienced and not experience as such. From this it can be seen that
the assertion of Spinoza that we not only know, but know that we
know, is impossible. Thought is buried in its object and not turned
on itself in the moment of knowing. Consciousness is that which
conditions all objects but which cannot be conditioned by itself. The
experience of the moment is always immediate, directly given, pure
actuality, while things experienced are always mediate. Immediate
knowledge is a contradiction in terms.

Further we can no more know past experience as such than we can
know present experience. What we know are objects of past experi-
ence and not the past experience itself as subject. When we introspect
and examine a state of consciousness which has past, we cannot do this
by bringing up the consciousness as such but by again experiencing
the objects of the past state. If a contentless experience could exist,
therefore, it could not be known. Between it and the present there
would be an absolute break, a gulf that could not be bridged.

No purely immanent state of consciousness could be recalled in
memory, for memory is composed of images. WTe at once are con-
vinced on introspection that as the content of an experience grows less
exact the experience itself tends to slip out of consciousness. There
has been much talk of late about the truth of feeling, but this is to my
mind a manifest absurdity, if by feeling is implied pure affective im-
manence without content or direction. Truth means relation of one
part of experience to another, and if there are no parts to relate
there can be no truth.

Perhaps the meaning of the above point of view may be better
shown by a concrete illustration. As I am writing these words, I see
the lamp before me. It is the focal element in a complex noetic state.
I shut my eyes and try to analyze this state as a past experience. What
I really arrive at in my introspection is not the subjective state of con-
sciousness, but the experienced objects of my past state. The objects
of my introspective state are, as far as I am able to recall the past
moment of consciousness, the same, as were the objects of my direct
visual and motor experience a moment before. They are somewhat
less permanent and vivid and definite than they were in the original

DISCUSSION. 399

state. However, in this introspective analysis I have nothing given
that was not present in the direct perception and 1 in no way arrive at
my past experience as such in distinction from the objects of my past
experience.

Consciousness reveals to us various classes of objects. First of all
there are the objects given to us through the direct sensory experience.
This is the stuff from which all experience as such is supposed to take
its rise, yet it cannot constitute experience itself, because as mere sensa-
tion it cannot be known, but only as sensation interpreted or objectified.
It is this interpretation or objectification that gives the reality to objects
of experience, and it is this same tendency which gives various classes
of objects in experience and leads to the separation of the world into
mind and matter, res cogitantes and res extensce. Objects are always
in the last analysis partly sensory and partly ideational. This is clearly
true of all objects perceived and imagined. Of objects of reason this
is not quite as evident, since the symbol of the objective reality has
come to take the place of the concrete sensory experience. This
symbol itself, however, is sensory and stands in the last analysis for
the original sensory experience. The relationships between objects,
which from a large part of our conscious life, are themselves not
detached nor separated from the objects, but inhere in them and are
experienced in these objects just as much as any aspect of the objects
such as color, or form, or hardness or odor. Relations are not super-
imposed on the objects but arise in the objects — they are not detached
ideas. Further our experience of bodily states, which give rise to the
feelings and emotions and, in muscular adjustments, to the experience
of will, are clearly also sensory in their character and attach themselves
to objects in the world outside the body. It is erroneous to suppose
that these subjective states are experienced as purely subjective and
contentless. An emotion has locality and externality both in the world
outside the body and in the body itself. Indeed there can be no affec-
tive state that does not take a concrete and objective form, nor can
there be a state of will that does not have an objective point of attach-
ment. It is often held, apparently, that these states exist as pure and
immediate, that they can be arrived at directly. Introspection shows
that this is not a true analysis of the experience. All our experience
whether sensorial, imaginary, rational, affective or voluntary, is the
experience of something objective.

It happens, however, that among these various objects there are
some elements which seem more permanent and abiding, more general
and universal, and these are taken to belong to the material world,

400 CERTAIN CHARACTERISTICS OF EXPERIENCE.

while others are regarded as individual, peculiar, variable and are
looked upon as mental. There is no object that cannot be looked at
from these two standpoints and as the emphasis is given to one or to
the other of these aspects the object is regarded as mental or as ma-
terial. Thus arose the ancient distinction between primary and sec-
ondary qualities of matter, which, however, is only a relative distinction
and never one that can be made absolute.

Psychology has to do with objects in so far as they exhibit mental
constituents and relations, but it has no objects that belong entirely to
itself. It has nothing absolutely peculiar, and does not consider con-
sciousness as such apart from objects, as is often held to be the case.
The gravest confusions have arisen when the mental world has been
made identical with experience (consciousness) as such. We are
told, for example, that the mind knows only ideas, the reason for this
assertion being that the mind cannot know something outside of con-
sciousness— which is a self-evident assertion. Ideas, however, strictly
speaking are simply aspects of objects and cannot be detached from
these objects and be known in their purity.

Many tangles of epistemology may be traced, I believe, to this con-
fusion of consciousness as subject and the mental world as object. The
two aspects of objects have been violently separated and then the at-
tempt is made to bridge the gulf by various theories of knowledge,
none of which is adequate to accomplish its purpose. The trend of
all such assumptions is toward subjective idealism or absolute idealism
and away from the healthful realism which gives vitality to our thinking.

IV. As a matter of fact all experience is realistic, but experience
itself is not real. This may seem a contradiction, but a closer ex-
amination will reveal the truth of the statement. As to the first part
of the proposition, its truth lies in the fact that to have any experience
means to have an object, ultimately an object with a sensory basis, an
object which has a degree of permanence, stability and universality,
and hence a reality.

There is no question of going outside of the experience to a trans-
experiential reality, a manifest impossibility, but of giving to the ob-
ject in experience this quality of reality. Indeed, to have an experi-
ence, to be conscious, means nothing more nor less than to objectify,
to have a content, to give a permanence. There is no experience,
never mind how rudimentary and incomplete, which is not of this
nature — if one should exist it could not be known. All experience
must therefore be realistic.

Yet experience as such, being the immanence of pure being, can

DISCUSSION. 401

be called neither real nor true. These terms apply only to objects of
experience in their relation* and connections. Experience simp'.
the ultimate fact of the universe, which, because of its ultimate nature,
cannot be in itself described nor known.

Some recent discussions in regard to the nature of feeling hint at
an experience that is purely immanent. Dr. Washhuru, for example,
speaks of feelings that are u absolutely unanaly/able and unlocalix-
ab!e." Among these she gives feelings of relation and of plea-ure-
paiu. Neither of these experiences, I would insist, ever occurs with-
out attaching itself to some object, either within or without the body
and cannot be known except as objective. Indeed, Dr. Washburn
should hold that they possess this objective characteristic, since -he
considers them as motor attitudes, the feelings of relation as of a
tigial nature, and pleasure-pain " as representing the most fundamental
of all primitive motor attitudes."1

In the sense in which I am using the term there can be no state
that is entirely mental and subjective, as some writers would hold. I
cannot, therefore, believe, as Professor Stratton affirms,1 that imagina-
tion, for example, is purely mental.

It is as clearly objective in certain of its aspects as is perception,
and is to be treated from the same realistic standpoint. The objects
which it contains are not any less real nor true than those given in sen-
sory experience. It is an error to consider imagination thus peculiarly
subjective and unreal.

It may seem that the foregoing analysis had done away with con-
sciousness as such and has left merely objects of experience, since ex-
perience expresses itself objectively and cannot exist without its objects.
Although this relation between experience and its objects is one that
cannot be dissolved, experience is not its objects, — it is, however,
capable of description and analysis only through its objects. As the
ultimate it cannot be known, but still it must be. To say that it is
nothing is both true and false, — true in the sense that it is not an object
among objects, false in the sense that it has no being. It cannot be
imagined, for imagination exists only in terms of objects of conscious-
ness ; no more can it be perceived, because perception rests on imagi-
nation and sensation. It cannot be rationally deduced, for reason em-
ploys symbols (themselves objects and standing for object- ) .

Yet, on the other hand, experience is the final solvent of all things.

lSee Journal of Philosophy \ Psychology, and Scientific Methods, February i,
1906.

2 See PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN, January 15, 1906.

402 CERTAIN CHARACTERISTICS OF EXPERIENCE.

The reality of any content of experience maybe doubted, but the being
of the experience is the final fact which cannot be brought into ques-
tion. Such a doctrine as this may perhaps be designated as mystical,
but if it is mystical I believe it is necessarily so. The seeming mysti-
cism which it contains results from the impossibility of giving an ob-
jective account of the immediate fact of being, and does not arise from
an attempt to transcend the immediate and to reach a supra- or infra-
experiential reality. It is not due to an attempt to know the unknow-
able. It rests in the fact that we cannot put into objective terms that
which forever must remain subject.

Experience should not be looked on as merely a logical fact, made
necessary as an antithesis to the object experienced. It is more than
formal, it is actual. It has been recognized at various times by various
names, but it is always, whether recognized or not, present in some
form. It has been termed, for example, the ' soul,' the ' synthetic
unity of apperception,' the * pure ego.' Attempts of recent date have
been made to banish it, or its equivalent, consciousness, from psy-
chology. James has styled consciousness " the faint rumor left behind
by the disappearing ' soul ' upon the air of philosophy," but though
thus condemned to live a spook-like existence, it still refuses to pass
completely. Like the ghost of Banquo it reappears when the least
desired to put to confusion the philosophic feast the pragmatist would
spread. It will not down, but claims its place at the table of experience.

V. Another mark of experience is that it comes always 'with a tinge
of personality, but is not itself identical with personality. Per-
sonality is an object of consciousness. As has been previously stated,
we know no consciousness that has not this characteristic of personal
warmth. This peculiarity of all human experience joins together
objects experienced in certain groups and does not permit the free
interchange of these with objects of other groups. Whether this
grouping is ever transcended or not cannot be experienced. We seem
to have evidence from mental pathology of one set of experiences
passing over and uniting with another set in cases of dual and multiple
personality. However, multiple personality may be legitimately in-
ferred but never experienced. The experience is always that of
grouped objects tinged with the coloring of our personality. What is
true of multiple personality is likewise true of the infra-conscious.
As soon as objects inferred to exist in the infra-conscious become
known, they have become stamped with the mark of personality.

By way of summary it may be added that experience is the final
being of the universe and the only purely immanent actuality that

DISCUSSION. 4°3

exists. It is itself not known, but only described in terms of its objects
with which, however, it cannot be identified. This experience is
always given in a finite, personal way and is equivalent to human con-
sciousness, being nothing more nor less. It is not, however, to be
confused with the mental aspect of objects, which is the subject matter
of psychology, and is not to be put in antithesis with the material
wrorld which is merely an aspect of objects of experience on an equal
footing with the mental aspect. Experience embraces both the material
and the mental and the existence of one can no more be doubted than
that of the other. On this basis all difficulty of relating the mental
and the material disappears, together with many problems of episte-
mology and the contentions of idealism and realism. Indeed, experi-
ence is clearlv and always realistic in the sense that reality attaches to
all objects of experience, which by the very fact of objectification are
given a permanence, stability and universality. And here the value
of this point of view is seen, since it does away with old time useless
contentions and gives back to the philosopher and psychologist the
common-sense view of reality which physical science and practical
thinking have never for a moment abandoned. It opens the way for
a sane discussion of parallelism and the complex questions which
arise in the problem of the relations between mind and body ; it ban-
ishes that spectre of philosophic thought, subjective idealism and
leaves psychology free to go about its business like any other science.

STEPHEN S. COLVIN.
UNIVERSITY OF IWJNOIS.

1 The MS. of this article was received July 6, 1906. — Ed.

CATEGORIES OF THE SELF.

In a former paper,1 I suggested that, of the two distinct uses or
meanings now indicated indifferently by the terms ego and self, the
term ego be restricted to one, viz. : the individual who is or may be
self-conscious, who can think in terms of ' I ' ; and that the term self
be applied to the other meaning, viz. : that content of consciousness
in which an individual recognizes himself. Using the term self in
this narrower sense, in this paper I would distinguish and name
some six distinct * selves/ /. £., distinct contents, in each of which the
conscious individual recognizes himself.

Among other writers James, Baldwin, Stout and Bradley have
enumerated each two or more such ' selves.' In the case of James
and Stout their accounts suggest in their form of expression a com-
pleteness-which I think they do not possess. Indeed it seems to me
no writer has approached adequacy in this matter, none has done
justice to the complexity of our conception of self, or defined with
sufficient care the several ' selves,' or properly emphasized the gulf
that lies between one self and another.

The problems of the self and the not-self are now less prominent
than they have been. Their importance to metaphysics, however,
and particularly to ethics is permanent. It is the ethical significance of
4 self that I have most in mind ; and partly for that reason I approach
the matter from the side of self-feeling. I hope, too, thereby to make
my statements concrete and more readily verifiable.

A few words with regard to the nature of self-feeling, Dewey 2
says : " Feeling is always a feeling of self ; of the hinderance or further2
ance of self-development,3 through activity." We need, however, the
word self-feeling to distinguish those feelings which have for their
object self in antithesis to the not-self. James uses the term self-feel-
ing in this latter sense. Such feelings are : pride, humility, shame,
self-love, self-pity, etc. The sefeelings are not ; aroused by ' self, as
James says, but rather, as Hume maintains, are aroused by certain
things or qualities which, through instinct or habit, direct those feel-

1 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN, Sept. 15, 1906.

2 Psychology, p. 281.

3 The reflexive pronoun self, in such words as self-development, of course
need not refer to the self as I have defined that substantive.
404

DISCUSSION. 4°5

ings toward self. Through such instructive or habitual direction of
feelings on the one hand the several contents of self are built up; on
the other hand those contents of self reciprocally modify self-feeling.

Of the self feelings I select the general class of self-appreciation.
Hume1 describes pride and humility as simple and uniform impres-
sions, and he uses pride, apparently, in the general sense of self-appre-
ciation. I would show that for each of the 4 selves ' I now proceed
to describe, self-appreciation takes a different form. These forms,
are, I think, easily recognizable, and aid us to realize the distinctions
between the several selves.

It is often said, and said with great assurance, that, in pride, our
own excellence counts for nothing unless we exce]^ others. The state-
ment is, I think, true only for pride that has for its object the self
which I shall call the historical self. The historical self is an agent
working in a world of agents ; it is I as others may know me, as I see
myself in a mirror, the living body, speaking, thinking, acting on
others, feeling and responding in its own way to the acts of others.
Were we to ask the average American what he means by himself,
he would probably reply, in effect, that it is this living, active body,
which remembers, wills, forecasts; whom others see (though not
of course as self}, love, honor, fear, despise; which triumphs over
others and submits to them. Appreciation of this self means little, if
anything, except in terms of comparison with the others, the not-self.
Better here means better than others. The emotion of self-apprecia-
tion or pride, where this self is concerned, is, it seems to me, always
properly called vanity.

But a man may recognize and appreciate himself as an activity
pouring forth 'in ready and abundant measure, beating down all
resistance, and making use of obstacles only to overcome them.'1
Such self-appreciation Job ascribes to the horse: " He paweth in the
valley, and rejoiceth in his strength. He mocketh at fear. He
swalloweth the ground in fierceness and rage ; neither believeth he that
it is the sound of the trumpet." This feeling of our superior energy
we may call exaltation or glory. This self is the inner activity of
apperception (Wundt), the sense of inner adjustment (James), in anti-
thesis to the world of means and of obstacles through which and
against which my energy, activity or will is or is not realized. I call
it the will-self. Self-appreciation here means superiority or inferiority
of self to the not-self, but the not-self is not other people. Exaltation

1 Treatise, Bk. II., Part i, Sec. 2.
2Dewey, Psychology, p. 265.

406 CATEGORIES OF THE SELF.

does not require comparison with other people. It may arise through
a sense of the superiority of self to a certain mathematical problem,
due to my successful solution of it. If, however, I do compare my
success with that of others, I find that the will-self no longer occupies
the field ; now the self is the historical self, of which the will is re-
garded as a possession, an inner energy, finding its expression in my
acts. The emotion is no longer exaltation but vanity, when I attribute
superiority to the will I (the historical self) possess.

By considering another phase of self-appreciation we may discover
two other ' selves.' James l says that our self-feeling ' depends en-
tirely on what we back ourselves to be and do,' 4 on the ratio of our
actualities to our supposed potentialities.' Self-esteem, he maintains,
varies directly as our success and inversely as our pretensions. But is
this always true? If in 4 good faith' one gives up all pretensions to
be a gentleman or a philosopher, or whatever it is that one has striven
and partly failed to be or do, is one's self-esteem increased? Yes and
no ! It depends on what l self ' one has in mind. There is an ' ideal '
or l pretension ' self, and also a * realization ' self. If I think in terms
of the former I identify myself with what I stand for, with my ideals
and pretensions, and all the opposing ideals, the pretensions I reject or
abandon, are the not-self, I cannot recognize myself in them. There
is a self-esteem which regards simply the ideals, not the success, we
may well call it, I think, self-respect. James cites the Stoic as one
whose self-esteem rises through abandoning pretensions that could not
be assured of success. This is but one side of the shield. The
Stoic's great self-respect rested not on his success in his few preten-
sions, but in his acceptance of pretensions which to the Stoic himself
seemed to link man with God through a common nature. Christian
renunciation is surely not so much what James would have it, a renun-
ciation of ideals, but far more it is the rejection of the whole self of
success, of works, of ' claims of wages,' and the adoption of the self
of ideals, of infinite ideals, through which the highest self-respect is
attained. For this self of pretensions self-esteem varies directly, not
inversely as the pretensions.

If I do adopt, however, the category of the realization self, and
identify myself, as I may, with so much of my ideals as I have
achieved, then forthwith ideals are to me mere ideals, not actual, and
not the self. Self is actual. And here James's equation seems to be
true. This form of self-appreciation, which I would call exultation
or self-satisfaction, varies inversely as my pretensions, for self is

^Principles of Psychology, Vol. L, p. 310.

DISCUSS/ON. 4°7

measured by its approach to those pretensions. The true opposite of
exultation is the emotion of humility.

In terms of self-respect and of the ideal self the young Christian
knight, for example, was the proudest of men. In terms of exulta-
tion, or self-satisfaction, and of the realization self he might well be
most humble.

It seems to me we get an important basis, in terms of these cate-
gories of self, for distinguishing self-respect and the emotion of
humility from less desirable forms of self-appreciation. Those who
think, as Hume did, that pride is a 4 uniform ' impression, describe
self-respect and humility as certain degrees of pride. Clearly this is
not true. A man who has the greatest self-respect is likely to be
most humble. Humility, as an emotion, is a function of the reali/a-
tion self and is the opposite of exultation.

These four 4 selves ' are those with which self-appreciation is most
commonly connected. A fifth category of self is the bodily self. If
a woman is proud of her beauty or a man of his strength, commonly
the emotion has reference to the efficiency of the beauty or the strength
in acting on or influencing other agents. The self-appreciated here is
the historical, and the emotion is vanity. On the other hand the
bodily self is learned probably without the medium of social relations,
chiefly through pains, and through touch and temperature, and through
its continual presence. It is passive, receptive; it is fed, warmed,
pained ; it grows, is sick. The not-self is that world whose pains
are not ours, and the presence of any one part of which is not neces-
sary. If self-appreciation is felt for this self it is perhaps delight in
the sense of its warmth and sensuous life contrasted with the inertness
of the not-self, the world I cannot directly feel. Probably this self-
delight is, as a rule, morbid, except in the very young.

In such a double monster as Helen- Judith,5 having common circu-
lation, but a separate nervous system, and of course separate worlds of
experience, the pair necessarily acts in unison, for the most part.
Hence for most purposes the historical self, for either ego, would tend
to include the other as part of the single agent. But the bodily self,
for each ego, would be sharply limited by the fact that, beyond a cer-
tain point of the skin, touch, temperature and pain stimulations did
not affect her, but the other, who was thus, in this connection, part of
the not-self. In us the historical self tends to include our clothes ; the
bodily self is set over against the clothes which warm and chafe it.
This difference of limits, however, should merely guide us in realiz-

1 Ribot, Diseases of Personality, Chap. I., g 3.

408 CATEGORIES OF THE SELF.

ing the difference in meaning between these two categories of self, the
bodily and the historical.

A sixth category of the self is the experience self. Stout calls this
the inner self ; James calls it the me, and the ' empirical ego.' He
would place the bodily, social and spiritual selves within this me, as
its constituents ; whereas Stout calls the body the outer self, in anti-
thesis to experience, the inner self. It seems to me the experience self
is not inner ; for what is it inside ? The body which it experiences ?

The experience self is my experience of objects in antithesis to the
objects themselves ; it has an order and connection which is not that of
the objects. In this connection, my body is part of the not-self, the
1 recognition which I get from my mates' is part of the not-self,
and even the « Self of Selves/ what James makes the core of our
spiritual life, viz : 4 the collection of these peculiar motions in the head
or between the head and throat M is an object, and is part of the not-
self. Seldom, except as metaphysicians, do we identify ourselves with
our experience ; but modern as well as ancient thought has made men
recognize that for some purposes, at least, man is feeling and think-
ing. When we stop to recall what at some distant day we were, or if
we compare what now we are to what in old age we shall be, it is
thought and feeling that we summon and compare with present thought
and feeling; and in this individual experience of objects rather than
in any object, we recognize ourselves, past, present and future. In-
deed, when convinced that our experience rightly and fully mirrors the
world, we feel a self-appreciation, a kind of assurance, which has
for its object, not the historical self, which might be said to have the
experience, but the experience itself, with which we identify ourselves,
and of which we are proud.

I cannot add to my categories what James calls the self as thinker,
or knower. This is distinct from all objects known ; and it is not
part of the experience, but is the present, passing, inchoate, judging
thought, which, herds, brands, adopts and inherits the past thoughts
which the thought just dead bequeaths to it. These functions are,
even according to James's account, hypothetical. And according to
that account, again, this c thinker ' cannot be a content of consciousness
in which the individual recognizes himself, for such recognition would
make it the known, not the knower. This thinker, indeed, seems
rather to be, for James, the individual which is or may be self-con-
scious, taking the place which in psychology the ' psychophysical
organism ' now tends to occupy, It is, then, an ego rather than a self,
if it is either.

1 Principles, Vol. I., p. 301.

DISCUSSION. 409

With regard to each of the^six categories of the self which I have
here described, no one of them seems to be a subspecies or a part of
another. Each with its corresponding not-self seems to me to make
up a universe in which no other self has a place. The historical self,
for example, is not to be found, I think, among the objects of which
the experience self has knowledge, but rather comes to light only by
a change of the system of thought, and the presence of another cate-
gory of existence, with other kinds of self-feeling.

I realize how crude and unsatisfying my presentation is; but I
hope that I may bring the attention of others to the very inadequate
treatment that the * self ' now receives, particularly in reference to pride
or self-appreciation. Psychology should be able to offer much more
light than it does offer to aid in the correct description and evaluation
of this important class of emotions.

There are some points that may occasion unnecessary misunder-
standing, to which, therefore, I will briefly refer. First, I hasten to
admit that within each category of self appear many sub-species of
self ; ' selves ' that conflict or accord with each other, and 4 selves ' that
go to build up for each individual one or other category. Within the
historical self may appear both the athlete self rejoicing in applause,
and the candidate self turned away by a teachers' committee. Within
the will-self contend the 'aggressive' and the 'accommodating' self.
Within the experience-self moods of gloom and joyous insights mingle ;
and so on.

The synthesis of these selves is no doubt just as important as the
analysis; but of course the latter must precede. Preyer refers to the
'I' concept as the abstract conceptual unity of such selves as he
mentions.1 But such a concept is not a self, I should say, not a con-
tent of individual consciousness in which the individual recognizes him-
self, but rather a concept of the ego, an abstraction of the content
common to all egos. The 'I* for each individual seems to have
merely an analogical reference to the several categories of self, and to
be a functional or practical, rather than a conceptual unity. That is,
I do use the term * I ' rightly for all my categories of self ; but why I
do, is a matter to be explained by a careful analysis of the develop-
ment of the habit of so doing, rather than by an analysis of what I
always and everywhere mean by * I.' Royce and Taylor, among
recent writers on metaphysics, seem to assume that the self is funda-
mentally homogeneous, and that essentially it is the ideal self. I can-
not understand the grounds on which this position is taken. *

1 The Development of the Intellect, trans., p. 205.

2 Taylor's Elements of Metaphysics, pp. 342, 350 ct a!.

4*0 CATEGORIES OF THE SELF.

Many difficulties arise in keeping clear the distinctions which I
here attempt to establish. For example, in the experience self the
sense of the body, the organic sensation, is recognized as a very im-
portant element of that self. This sense of the body, or experience of
my body, is not the bodily self, it must be noted. In the bodily self I
identify myself with the body, not with my experience of it. These
are two very different ways of thinking.

What Baldwin calls the socius, 4 the self of all the rich social rela-
tionships,' l seems to be, not a new category of self, but a new con-
ception of the relation of the self to the not-self, which may apply in
different ways to the ideal self, to the historical, the will, and to the
bodily self — a conception in which self and not-self stand together
under a 'wider unity. The unity of the ideal self and not-self seems
to be logical merely : that of the historical self and not-self seems to
be the unity of historical action ; that of the will-self seems to be the
unity of attitude ; and that of the bodily self, the unity of natural or
mechanical law. I regret I have not space to develop this point
properly.

A very interesting and, I think, elucidating application of the
principles of this paper may be made to certain cases of double con-
sciousness. In the case of Leonie B., as narrated by Sidis, in his
Psychology of Suggestion, p. 131 ff., Leonie is hypnotized and
assumes a different name, Leontine. In this state she, Leontine, is
told to remove her apron after the hypnotic state has ceased. This
she does. She is then rehypnotized, and volunteers this statement:
1 How stupid the other (Leonie) looked while I took off her apron! '
Unfortunately these experiments are not so described that we are
helped to understand the content of the subject's mind. The hands
and arms with which Leontine took off Leonie' s apron were the
hands and arms under which that apron was tied ! Leontine must so
have thought of herself that one aspect of those hands and arms were
knit up with herself, while another aspect was not so knit up. If
Leontine thought of herself in terms of the bodily and will-self, to the
exclusion of the historical self, one can see how the sense of touch
and movement of hands and arms were recognized as parts of self,
while the sight of herself was to her like another person. The old
soldier, Father Lambert, who regarded his body as a machine, « it,'
not himself,2 insisting that he himself had died at Austerlitz, appa-
rently owing to the insensibility of his skin, had lost the natural, im-

1 Social and Ethical Interpretations, p. 41.

2 Stout, Manual, p. 531.

DISCUSSION. 41 1

mediate connecting link between his visible and his kinoisthetic per-
ception, which must be the usual means through which, to the visual
and tactile image, which is one feature of the historical self, we asso-
ciate the essential sense of its activity. To his enfeebled intellect,
again, that insensibility would prevent the usual functional or prac-
tical identification of the will-self, bodily self and historical self in the
one 4 1.' Hence he possessed an 4 1,' in the form of the will and the
bodily self, and doubtless, also, an image of the historical self lost
since Austerlitz, associated with that 4 1.' But he was incapable of
associating any element of that ' I' with the perceptions which nor-
mally should now constitute in part the historical self. Even if this
explanation is incorrect it seems that such cases confirm the general
position that the self is homogenous, but that there is only an analog-
ical relation between the several categories of self.1

PERCY HUGHES.
UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA.

1 The MS. of this article was received June 27, 1906.— ED.

EDITOR'S NOTE.

An article by Mrs. H. T. Woolley and Miss Kate Gordon, in-
tended for this issue, has been omitted because of delay in the com-
position and correction of the necessary tables.

412

BINDING SECT. JUL 1 8 1968

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