Psychological review

THE

Psychological Review

EDITED BY
J. MARK BALDWIN HOWARD C. WARREN

JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY AND PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

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

A. C. ARMSTRONG, WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY ; ALFRED BINET, ECOLE DES HAUTRS-
£TUDES, PARIS; W. L. BRYAN, INDIANA UNIVERSITY; WILLIAM CALDWELL, Mc-
GILL UNIVERSITY; MARY W. CALKINS, WELLESLEY COLLEGE; JOHN DEWEY,
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY ; J. R. ANGELL, UNIVERSITY OP CHICAGO ; C. LADD FRANKLIN,
BALTIMORE; H. N. GARDINER, SMITH COLLEGE; G. H. HOWISON, UNIVERSITY OF
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 MtfNSTERBERG, HARVARD UNIVERSITY; E. A. PACE,
CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY, WASHINGTON; G. T. W. PATRICK, UNIVERSITY OF IOWA;
R. W. WENLEY, UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.

Volume XIV., 1907.

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CONTENTS OF VOLUME XIV.

January

Definition and Analysis of the Consciousness of Value (i): W. M. URBAN, i,

Some Important Situations and their Attitudes. A. H. LLOYD, 37.

Discussion : Genetic Modes and the Meaning of the Psychic. The late C. L. HERRICK

54. Corrigenda, 60.
March

The Province of Functional Psychology. JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL, 61.
Definition and Analysis of the Consciousness of Value (n). W. M. URBAN, 92.
A Study of After-images on the Peripheral Retina. HELEN B. THOMPSON and KATE

GORDON, 122.
Editors' Announcement, 168.

May

Studies from the Laboratory of the University of Chicago : Communicated by J. R.

ANGELL. The Pendular Whiplash Illusion of Motion: H. CARR, 169.
Thought and Language. J. MARK BALDWIN, 181.
The Nature of the Soul and the Possibility of a Psycho-Mechanic : The late C. Iy.

HERRICK, 205.

July

Studies from the Laboratory of the University of Chicago: Communicated by J. R.
ANGELL. The Role of the Tympanic Mechanism in Audition. W, V. D.

BlNGHAM, 229.

On the Method of Just-perceptible Differences. F. M. URBAN, 244.

The Ultimate Value of Experience. S. S. COLVIN, 254.

On Truth. J. MARK BALDWIN, 264.

Discussion: A Further Application of a Result Obtained in Experimental ^Esthetics.

E. H. ROWLAND, 288. Experience, Habit and Attention. A. W. MOORE, 292.

Comment on Prof. Moore's Paper: J. MARK BALDWIN, 297.

September

The Nature of Feeling and Will and their Relations. W. M. URBAN, 299.

A Fourth Progression in the Relation of Body and Mind. R. W. SELLARS, 315.

Sensory Affection and Emotion: HELEN T. WOOLLEY, 329.

Discussion. An Experimental Course in ^Esthetics. MAX MEYER, 345.

November

Apparent Control of the Position of the Visual Field. H. CARR, 357.

Concerning Animal Perception. G. H. MEAD, 383.

A Study in Vertical Symmetry. E. H. ROWLAND, 391.

Logical Community and the Difference of Discernibles. J. MARK BALDWIN, 395.

N. S. VOL. XIV. No. i. January, 1907

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

DEFINITION AND ANALYSIS OF THE CONSCIOUS-
NESS OF VALUE.1 I.

BY PROFESSOR WILBUR M. URBAN,
Trinity College.

A cursory examination of the more general terms of worth
description, good and bad, useful and useless, beautiful and
ugly, noble and ignoble, etc., or indeed the terms worth and
worthless, valuable and valueless themselves, and the manner
in which they are applied, makes us immediately aware of the
fact that for the unreflective worth consciousness they are at first
tertiary qualities as much a part of the object as the so-called pri-
mary and secondary qualities are parts of the physical object
of cognition. This is especially noticeable in the case of the
ethical and aesthetic predicates but it is no less true of the
unreflective use of the terms utility and value, as for instance
when we say that iron has utility or value even when the con-
ditions of its applicability are lacking. The intrinsic worth
judgment is psychologically the more fundamental whatever
may be inferred upon closer inspection and reflection.

But while they appear at first sight to be tertiary qualities of
the object, on closer examination these predicates are seen to be
acquired meanings of the object for the subject. Without inquir-
ing too closely for the present into the question whether or not
such qualities may be in some sense objective, it may be asserted

1 This paper, part of a larger study now completed, was ready for publication
six months ago. The appearance in July of Baldwin's Thought and Things
showed such substantial agreement in general point of view and method, that it
has seemed desirable to take advantage of the opportunity to make certain
minor changes in terminology, most of which are specifically noted.

I

2 WILBUR M. URBAN.

unhesitatingly that they are meanings pre-determined by ante-
cedent psychical processes. As thus pre-determined, they may
be described as selective and funded meanings. They are
* selective meanings ' 1 in that they represent differentiation of
aspects of objects acquired in processes of feeling and will.
They are funded meanings in that they represent the accumu-
lation of meaning of these processes. We may therefore define
the worth predicates briefly as the selective funded affective-
volitional meanings of objects.

For the purposes of our study the funded meaning of worth
predicates should be distinguished from the * founded ' mean-
ings or objects of cognitive experience. By a ' founded ' 2 object
in general we understand one built up by processes of presenta-
tion or judgment upon primary sensations and perceptions. Such
a founded object Is strictly speaking not the object of perception
but of presentation or judgment and may be said to be pre-deter-
mined by these processes. Thus certain ideal objects of presenta-
tion and judgment, while themselves not sensed or perceived, may
be said to be founded on sensation and perception. They are
ideal constructions, and as such selective cognitive meanings.
The objects of the funded meanings of worth predication may
be either primary or founded objects, objects of perception or of
ideal construction. Thus to take a single illustration, the proc-
esses of sympathetic realization of the feelings of another, are
in the first place perceptual in character, but upon the basis of
these processes certain ideal objects, the self and its dispositions
are built up which become the objects of imputed values. To
them is imputed the funded meaning of the processes of feeling
and conation involved in their construction.

The worth predicates are then the funded meanings of pri-
mary and founded objects. When, now, we attempt a further
analysis of the predicates, we are confronted with peculiar dif-
ficulties, which arise from equivocations in their meaning,
equivocations so confusing upon first appearance that more

1 This use of l selective meaning ' as in contrast to ' recognitive meaning ' is
suggested and developed by Baldwin in his Thought and Things or Genetic
Logic, I., Chap. VII.

2 The term * founded ' is a translation of Meinong's expression fundierte
(Gegenstand, Inhalt) wrongly translated by some funded.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 3

than one thinker has counseled entire scepticism in the matter,
not without a show of reason, it must be admitted. But that
this initial scepticism is merely a salutary warning will become
apparent as we follow these equivocations to their sources for it
is precisely in this process, this study of the grammar of the
worth consciousness, that we shall find both the nature of the
processes through which these funded meanings are acquired
and the basis of their classification.

These worth equivocations make themselves felt, precisely
as certain contradictions in cognitive predication, through ab-
straction of the predicates, as qualities of the objects, from the
processes of acquirement of meaning through which the funded
meanings and founded worth objects arise. The character of
the confusion may be seen at a glance by observing the distinc-
tions which worth analysis has developed (in all the concrete
worth sciences, economics, ethics, aesthetics) for the removal of
the equivocations. Worths are said to be subjective or objec-
tive, real or ideal, actual or imputed, intrinsic or instrumental.

The first distinction, between subjective and objective worths
or values, gives the key to the situation. The same objects, let
us say diamonds, may have little worth or indeed be distasteful
to me personally, although in another attitude I may ascribe
great value to them and, indeed, think of them as intrinsically
valuable. My friend's action may be sanctioned by me in im-
mediate appreciation, although from an objective, moral point of
view I must needs condemn it. Such contradictions can only be
resolved by a distinction between subjective and objective values.
Closely connected with this equivocation is that which arises
when the distinction between intrinsic and instrumental values
is ignored. An object which is worthless, or indeed the object
of negative worth judgments of harmful or bad, may acquire the
predicate worth when it becomes instrumental to some object of
immediate or intrinsic worth. And within the sphere of instru-
mental values or utilities, i. e., the economic, we find an equiv-
ocation which can be removed only by the use of the distinction
between subjective and objective. On the one hand, if any
thing is of worth because it is utilizable, it is always so for a
subject and with reference to concrete conditions. But on the

4 WILBUR M. URBAN.

other hand, we are led to ascribe value to an object (for instance
when we say that iron has value) irrespective of its relation to
an individual subject and to concrete conditions ; by a process of
abstraction we give the object value in itself. For these dif-
ferences in meaning the economists have used the terms subjec-
tive and objective value, or the latter is sometimes called objec-
tive exchange value. From these illustrations we see that the
attitude expressed by a worth judgment, whether the worth be
described as subjective or objective, is an attitude of a subject,
but the difference in attitude is determined by the inclusion or
exclusion of certain presuppositions, the nature of which is to be
determined.

The other distinctions, between real and ideal, actual and
imputed, values show the same desire to remove the equivoca-
tions inherent in worth predicates. Sometimes we attribute
worth to an object when we mean that it deserves to be valued
irrespective of its actual valuation by any person or groups
of persons. Such value is said to be ideal. Again there
are objects of valuation, the existence or non-existence, or the
possibility or probability of realization of which, are not
inquired into, but which are abstractly valued and said to
be ideal values in contrast to the real value of objects where
the judgments of existence or possibility are true or grounded
judgments. In both cases the real and the ideal values are
equally functions of the relation of the object to the subject.
The difference lies in the attitude of the subject, in the different
presuppositions of the feeling, in the two cases. Confusion of
meaning arises only when these presuppositions are not made
explicit.

The distinction between actual and imputed values, like the
other distinctions considered, is one which is found not in the
immediate worth experience itself but which develops when
the presuppositions of the worth judgment are made explicit
through reflective analysis. The total worth predicated of an
object is often seen to have more than one determinant and,
under certain circumstances, the element in the total value
corresponding to one subjective determinant will be described as
actual, while the other element will be described as imputed.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 5

Thus the elements of a total complex (food for instance) will each
be said to have its actual value arising from its capacity to
satisfy separate desires, or to satisfy desire when consumed
separately. Such worth as an element may get from its com-
bination with the other elements is said to be, on the other
hand, an imputed value. In a similar way, when an act of a
person has value as manifesting a disposition instrumental to the
fulfillment of social ends, this is described as its actual value,
while an additional value attributed to it as a part, or manifes-
tation of the total personality, is described as an imputed value
over and above the actual value of the act. It is obvious from
these illustrations that the different moments in the total worth of
the object have different subjective determinants and that these
go back to the different objects or aspects of the object upon
which judgment is directed, to the cognitive presuppositions.

The selective meanings thus differentiated may be described
as the existence-meanings of the worth predicates and, as distin-
guished from the purely appreciative meanings previously con-
sidered, represent modifications in worth predication determined
by differences in cognitive attitude toward the object. The
necessity of such distinctions arises from the fact that the appre-
ciative meanings are not wholly independent of the reference to
reality involved. As simple acts of appreciation, the presuppo-
sition of existence may not be explicit, and indeed the most primi-
tive judgments of worth are assertorial — without any condi-
tional element whatever. But as soon as the question of
evaluation of the worth predicates themselves is considered, as
soon as the axiological1 problem of the differentiation of subjec-
tively conditioned values from objectively conditioned, is raised,
then the presuppositions of reality must be made explicit.

II.

From this study of the various selective meanings of the
worth predicates, it becomes clear that the worth judgments

'The term axiological (constructed ou the analogy of the term epistemo-
logical}, is here used to distinguish the problem of validity or evaluation of
worth predicates from the psychological problem of their description and gene-
sis. Its value and use become more apparent as the general theory of value
is developed.

6 WILBUR M. URBAN.

express not attributes of objects apart from the subject (even
when the value is described as actual and objective) but rather
functions of the relation of subject to object. When we speak
of an object as having absolute or objective value it is only by
a process of temporary abstraction from the subject in some
specific attitude, not from the subject itself. The other differ-
ences of meaning in the worth predicates reflect the same fact.
Thus when I attribute value to an object, meaning that it is
actually valued, my attitude is determined by certain presupposi-
tions of judgments, which are the product of participation in the
worth judgments of others. When, however, my judgment
means that the object is ideally of worth, deserves to be valued,
that judgment expresses a modification of attitude brought about
either by the exclusion of certain partial determinants of my
attitude, as when I pass my judgment in opposition to actual
worth judgments about me, or by inclusion of other presupposi-
tions, as when, for instance, I appeal from a narrower actual
worth judgment to a possible more universal judgment. The
situation is the same in the case of the distinction between actual
and imputed values. The actual value is always the meaning
of the object for a subject in some attitude — never an attribute of
the object itself. The imputed value added to the actual value
arises from attitudes of the subject, negligible or irrelevant from
the standpoint from which the actual value is determined.

Two important consequences follow from this conception that
worth or value is the meaning of the object for the subject in dif-
ferent attitudes, or as predetermined by different dispositions and
interests. In the first place, while the distinctions we have been
discussing are developed from the axiological standpoint of the
determination of the relative validity of worth judgments, we
have in the analysis underlying these distinctions at the same
time a clue to the psychological analysis and classification of
the different attitudes. In all these differences of meaning the
sources of the difference were found in the nature of the cogni-
tive presuppositions. All valuation, as attitude of the subject, is
primarily an act of immediate appreciation ; but this primitive
attitude may be modified to give various meanings by the inclu-
sion of various types of judgments, existential, instrumental,

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 7

judgments referring the object of the self or to others, judgments
of possibility or probability of acquisition and possession, etc.
While for the axiological point of view the truth of these pre-
suppositions is significant, for psychological analysis their sig-
nificance lies in the changes in worth experience, which follow
upon changes in these presuppositions.

In the second place, as a result of this conception of worth
as the affective volitional meaning of the object for the subject
in different attitudes, the way is now open for an analysis of the
worth subject and for a classification of the fundamental worth
attitudes. The equivocations in the meaning of the worth predi-
cates already considered, indicate certain fundamental differ-
ences in the subject of the experience. The distinctions between
subjective and objective worth, between actual and ideal, are
reducible to differences in the judging subject. These differ-
ences have led to the conception of different subjects for differ-
ent types of worth judgments. Thus Kreibig1 distinguishes
between a primary and secondary worth subject, the primary
being the individual as such, the secondary being the group or
race consciousness. So also Meinong,2 in treating of the dif-
ference between ethical and moral judgments distinguishes
the more personal ethical from the impersonal, moral sub-
ject. The former is the concrete ego in his relation to the
alter ; the latter is neither the ego nor the alter but an abstrac-
tion, a third person, the impartial spectator which sits in judg-
ment upon both. These distinctions, appearing as they have
in the effort to do justice to fundamental differences in worth
predication, point in the right direction. But they are never-
theless open to the criticism which attaches to all conceptual
constructions employed as instruments of analysis, that they are
in danger of being hypostatized into separate realities and con-
ceived as real even when abstracted from the individual subject.
For certain purposes of social and ethical philosophy, we may,
perhaps, speak of a group consciousness, of an over-individual

1 Kreibig, Psychologische Grundlegung eines Systems der Wert-theot iet Wien,
1902, p. 5.

1 Meinong, Psycholo%ische-Ethische Untersuchungen zur Wert-theorie , pp.
72, 163, 216.

8 WILBUR M. URBAN.

will, without a serious distortion of the facts, but for the empirical
analysis of worth judgments it is nearer the truth to say that the
subject in the role of the individual, of the group or race, or of
the impartial spectator, is the individual in different attitudes.
The problem is then to account for the origin, differentiation, and
fixation of these relatively permanent attitudes, and, in the light
of the preceding discussion, such attitudes of the subject repre-
sent changes in affective-volitional meaning, as determined by
changes in cognitive presuppositions (the subject-matter).

The worth judgment of an individual may then express the
affective-volitional meaning of an object for the subject, as
qualified by the subjects (a) participation in, and (b) explicit
cognition of, the worth attitudes of others, of single persons, of
social groups, or perhaps of an over-individual worth conscious-
ness which transcends even group distinctions, giving the im-
personal attitude of the * impartial spectator.' The difference
in attitude is determined by the inclusion or exclusion of judg-
ments as part presuppositions of the meaning. The psycho-
logical problem is the tracing of the processes by which this
participation in, and cognition of, the attitudes of others is real-
ized, the more specific problem of worth analysis itself being to
determine how this modification of the attitude of the subject
modifies the worth predicated of the object.

In a preliminary way we may distinguish three fundamental
attitudes of the self or subject of worth judgment : (i) Simple
appreciation of the affective- volitional meaning of an object for
the self ; (2) the personal attitude in which the worth of the
object is determined by explicit reference of the object, whether
a physical possession or a psychical disposition, to the self or
the alter, and in which characterization of the self or the alter
is presupposed, and (3) the impersonal attitude, in which the
subject of the judgment is identified with an impersonal over-
individual subject and the value of the object is determined by
explicit reference to the over-individual demand.1

classification corresponds in principle with Baldwin's classification
of cognitive meanings in the first volume of his Genetic Logic, Chap. VII., p.
148, where he distinguishes: (i) Simple and private ; (2) aggregate and con-
aggregate ; (3) social and public, meanings.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 9

As the subject of value experience, one of the moments in
the value function, is constantly changing, expanding and con-
tracting through inclusion and exclusion of presuppositions of
judgment, so also the object of valuation undergoes modifica-
tion. Broadly speaking, the object of worth belongs to the pres-
entational side of consciousness, is the object of immediate ap-
prehension with its implicit presupposition or explicit judgment
of existence. It is, therefore, in the first place, the not-self the
external object of feeling and will, those aspects of experience
which are from the beginning presentational. But there is
scarcely any aspect of consciousness which cannot become pres-
entational, cannot be presented to consciousness as object, and
become the object of judgment. Even the attitude of valuation
itself which we may describe as the * psychical ' preeminently,
is susceptible of representation, translation into ideal terms and
of thus taking its place on the objective side of the value
function.1 The psychology of this representation of the psy-
chical will engage our attention at those points where we shall
make use of the principle. Here it is merely important to in-
sist that the general class, worth objects, includes physical and
psychical and, among the latter, the attitude of valuation itself.

A more significant distinction among objects of valuation is
that between primary and secondary or between simple and
founded objects already considered. These founded objects
may be of two kinds, according as they are founded in proc-
esses of perceptual or ideational activity. Illustrations of the
former are : (a) Beauty or grace of form in objects of percep-
tion ; (b) founded qualities acquired in the sensational and per-
ceptual activities of consumption of food (or more broadly of
various instinctive activities), such as cleanliness, manners. Any
harmonious grouping or arrangement of the activities of living
creates secondary objects of worth, founded upon the primary.
As illustrations of the secondary worth objects founded in proc-
esses of ideation and judgment, we may take the person and

1 As was pointed out in another article, Appreciation and Description and
the Psychology of Values, Philosophical Review, November, 1905, the capacity
of feeling attitude of becoming the object of presentation and judgment is the
condition of there being appreciative description and communication of attitudes.

10 WILBUR M. URBAN.

his affective or conalive dispositions built up conceptually on the
basis of immediate appreciations, as in sympathetic Einfuhlung^
or by a process of inference, which, then in turn, become the
objects of secondary judgments of merit and demerit, etc. To
these may be added a third group of founded worth objects
which may be described as over-individual. These are the
products of the ideal reconstruction of objects of primary worth
as determined by participation in the worth processes of larger
social groups or of society at large. To this class belong the
ideal moral and culture goods of society, economic goods as
objects of exchange, including the medium of exchange which
has over-individual worth exclusively. In distinguishing thus
between founded objects as products of perceptual and ideational
activities, we cannot of course make the distinction absolute, for
in the case of many such objects both activities have been at
work in their construction.

A preliminary classification of worth objects would then
include the following groups : (i) Objects of simple apprecia-
tion or of condition worth. These objects may be either phys-
ical or psychical and include the founded psychical objects built
up in perceptual activity. (2) Objects of personal worth such
as qualities and dispositions of the person (the self or the alter)
objects founded in the processes of characterization of the person.
(3) Objects of over-individual or common worth founded in
processes of social participation, ideal constructions developed
in the interest of social participation, utilization and exchange
of objects. In general these objects of worth correspond to the
fundamental attitudes of the subject of the value experience.

III.

The analysis of the meanings of worth predicates, and the
consequent differentiation and classification of the fundamental
types of the subject and object of the judgment of value, bring
us to a third problem of analysis, namely a more definite char-
acterization of the term affective-volitional meaning and an
analysis and classification of the modes of consciousness corre-
sponding to these meanings. As long as we were concerned
merely with a preliminary differentiation of cognitive meaning

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. II

from that aspect of meaning described as worth or value, it was
sufficient to describe the latter as a meaning predetermined by
processes of feeling and conation and the judgment of value as
an appreciation or acknowledgment of that funded meaning.
But when this criterion is examined more closely and the attempt
is made to determine more precisely just what aspect of meaning
is represented by the different types of worth judgment (appre-
ciation, characterization, participation and utilization) just what
the determining processes of feeling and conation are in each
case, more detailed psychological analysis becomes necessary.

When we seek to make more specific this very general
description of the worth relation we are confronted with two
possible views of the worth moment which may be described
as a broader and a narrower view. The narrower view recog-
nizes only two types of value judgment, the ethical and economic,
thereby limiting the term value to such feeling attitudes as
follow upon t\\e judgmental affirmation of the existence or non-
existence as an object for the self or its purposes. This limitation
denies, therefore, the character of worth attitude to all immediate
feeling of the meaning of the object for the subject prior to the
distinctions which we describe as economic and ethical, and
likewise to all forms of higher immediacy of feeling attitude as
we have them primarily in the aesthetic consciousness. This
view, which has been presented most definitely by Witasek1 and
Stuart,2 logically excludes the aesthetic from the sphere of values,
in the view of the former because the aesthetic is pre-judgmental,
/. £., is feeling which has merely presentations as its content,
for the latter because he conceives it to be post-judgmental, an
appreciative state where all judgment subject-matter has lapsed.
Either mode of cutting the aesthetic attitude off from its closely
related ethical and economic attitudes is, we shall find, open to
serious criticism and must necessarily discredit this limitation of
the term value.

The reasoning which underlies this the formulation of this
criterion is well expressed by Stuart in the following paragraph :

1 Witasek, Allgemeine ^sthetik, Leipzig, 1904.

2 Stuart, Valuation as a Logical Process, in Dewey's Studies in Logical
Theory, Chicago, 1903.

12 WILBUR M. URBAN.

" Our general criterion for the propriety of terming any mode
of consciousness the value of an object must be that it shall per-
form a logical function and not simply be referred to in its
aspect of psychical fact. The feeling or emotion, or whatever
the mode of consciousness in question may be, must play the
recognized part, in the agent's survey of the situation, of
prompting and supporting a definite practical attitude with ref-
erence to the object. If, in short, the experience enters in any
way into a conscious purpose of the agent, it may properly be
termed a value." Now, in examining this criterion one recog-
nizes immediately that it provides a good definition of a certain
type of reflective value judgments which we may call sec-
ondary. A very large group of our worth judgments are de-
termined by the conscious (recognized) inclusion of the worth
feeling or emotion as presented content, as partial determinant
of the judgment. The typical economic judgment takes place
only upon the occasion of adding to or taking from our store of
objects and is motived by a reflective inclusion of the worth
feeling in our total practical attitude. The ethical judgment, in
its typical reflective form, maybe shown to be of the same char-
acter in that the subject's own mode of experience, way of
feeling, presented in terms of disposition or quality of the self,
enters as a determinant in the total situation. But the sec-
ondary and derived character of these reflective judgments
soon becomes evident. How can the feeling or emotion as
presented content, * play a recognized part ' as a value ' in the
agent's survey of the situation ' unless, as a motive to previous
unreflective judgments, before it was presented as a conscious
determinant, it was also a value or at least value-suggestive.
We may say, then, that, while much of valuation is a logical
process in this sense, nevertheless valuation has its roots in
experiences of simple appreciation where the emotion, while
determinative, is not so consciously, as object of presentation or
judgment and must, therefore, be referred to simply in its aspect
of psychical fact.

We must, accordingly, interpret our definition of value as
affective-volitional meaning in the broader way already sug-
gested, so as to include modes of consciousness, of feeling (or

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 13

desire) which are merely appreciative of the object, which
merely apprehend the object with its funded meaning. We
cannot confine it to attitudes in which this meaning, abstracted
from the object, becomes a motive in the subject's survey of the
situation. We shall then be enabled to include both the attitudes
of lower immediacy, which are pre-judgmental, and those of
higher immediacy, which are post-judgmental, recognizing the
intermediate role of the reflective judgments (existential, instru-
mental, possessive, etc.), and recognizing also that the reflective
and the unreflective, the intrinsic and the instrumental, are con-
stantly passing over into each other, a phenomenon which we
shall later describe as value-movement.

In close relation to this first problem which arises in the
attempt to make more specific the general definition of worth as
affective volitional meaning, a second problem arises, namely,
the question of the specific manner in which we shall set the
worth moment in relation to its psychological equivalents, feeling
and conation. Already, in the use of the double term affective-
volitional in our preliminary demarcation of worth experience,
a certain vagueness inheres, which, while excusable when
viewed in the light of the purpose of the term, must give place
to explicit psychological analysis if we are to find equivalents
for the worth moment which shall form the basis for a scientific
reconstruction of the processes of valuation. The significance
of this double term lay in the fact that it marked off a species
under the generic term, meaning. Not that there could be cog-
nitive meaning without worth references or affective- volitional
meaning without cognitive presuppositions. Indeed, we shall
see that these terms are not very clear at the limits. Merely to
indicate a relative distinction, by means of emphasis of different
aspects of meaning, was the purpose of this differentiation.

In the second place, the double term was necessary for the
reason that only in such a definition could all the attitudes
toward objects, recognized as worth attitudes, be included.
For our ordinary usage, at least, makes a clear distinction be-
tween feeling and will and recognizes, as objects of worth, objects
upon which both types of attitude are directed, and, prior to more
scientific analysis, this double relation must be taken as descrip-

14 WILBUR M. URBAN.

tive of the worth attitude. But here again, when this general
definition gives place to psychological analysis, we find that the
distinction between feeling and conation in some of its forms is
not very clear at the limits, and it is consequently difficult to say
under which of these terms the immediate experience which is
the bearer of these meanings, is to be subsumed. On the one
hand, we find experiences of preference and obligation where
feeling, if it is described as passive pleasantness and unpleas-
antness is at a minimum, is scarcely present, or, if present at
all, is irrelevant, so irrelevant in fact that some theories of worth
experience (the voluntaristic theories of Brentano and Schwartz)
find the psychological fundamental in what they describe as
* intensitiless acts of preference,' denying the worth moment to
feeling and its intensities. On the other hand, we find worth
experiences, such as the aesthetic, apparently purely affective,
where desire, conation in all its forms is at a minimum, and ap-
pears to be significant, if significant at all, merely as a disposi-
tion or presupposition. While, then, in view of these facts the
general term affective-volitional meaning was necessary to define
the various meanings of objects included under the term values,
it is nevertheless evident that the definition can become service-
able for further psychological analysis and explanation only
when it is determined which of these moments, the affective or
conative, is primary and which secondary — that is, which is
always present actually as conscious experience and which as a
merely dispositional determinant. But if our general definition
is to hold, in every attitude which we describe as a mode of
worth experience both aspects of experience must be present
either actually or germinally.

In the light then of these considerations, it would appear
that the course of our further analysis is clearly and necessarily
determined. We are compelled, on the one hand, to include
both concepts, of feeling and conation, in our psychological
equivalents for the worth moment ; otherwise we should not have
a true equivalent for the funded meaning of the object described
as worth. On the other hand, when from the standpoint of the
analysis of content we look for an experience which shall be a
common equivalent for all phases of worth determination, one

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 15

of these moments must assume the role of actual experience and
the other of dispositional presupposition. One must constitute
the worth fundamental. Is then the worth fundamental feeling
or desire?

In the second place whichever of these two aspects be taken
as fundamental, a second question necessarily arises — is worth
coextensive with feeling or desire, or is there a further demar-
cation within the sphere of feeling or desire, respectively? In
other words, have all feelings or desires, whatever their condi-
tions, however fleeting and however caused, the transgredient
and immanental references which characterize the worth attitude
of the subject toward the object?

IV.

Both of these problems have been in the forefront of recent
psychological analysis of worth experience. They are questions
which are forced upon the attention as soon as we attempt to
coordinate and reduce to common terms the varying attitudes
which have been included under worth experience, within the
worth definition. It is true that there is a point of view from
which these finer distinctions are irrelevant. One can see that
for the limited purposes of economic analysis, which requires
but a short excursion into psychology, we might speak of the
worth moment now as feeling, and now as desire. Ehrenfels
is also probably right in saying that the general laws of valua-
tion and the forms of mutation of values, value movement, hold
true whether we define worth experience as feeling or desire,
and changes in judgments of value as due to modifications of
feeling or desire. It remains true, nevertheless, that a complete
analysis of the worth consciousness, in all its phases, requires the
solution of both these problems.

It is in connection with the first problem that the first diver-
gence in definition appears, as typified in the different formula-
tions of Meinong and Ehrenfels. Ehrenfels defines the worth
of an object as its desirability and makes actual desire the worth
fundamental, assigning to feeling the conceptual, dispositional
role, while Meinong, on the other hand, identifies actual worth
experience with feeling, desire appearing in his definition only

1 6 WILBUR M. URBAN.

as presupposed disposition. In some sense, we have seen, both
terms, feeling and conation, must enter into our psychological
definition ; the question is which shall be given the role of fun-
damental, actual experience and which the dispositional role.

Ehrenfels 1 takes desire as the actual psychological worth
fundamental. Value, we are told, is proportional to the desira-
bility of the object — and he continues, as though it were self-
evident, — ' i. e., to the strength of the actual desire which cor-
responds to it.' The first part of the definition is certainly true.
The funded meaning of an object is its desirability, its capacity
under certain circumstances of calling out desire. The second
part does not, however, necessarily follow. It does not follow
either that judgments of worth are determined by actual desire,
or that the worth of the object is proportional to the strength of
the actual desire. As to the identification of value or desira-
bility with actual desire, a consideration of certain simple but
typical worth experiences, indicates that it is not exclusively an
actual, but, ultimately, merely a possible desire or desire disposi-
tion with which worth is to be equated, a modification of his
earlier definition which Ehrenfels himself accepts. When I
think of an absent friend I may feel his worth to me without the
slightest trace of actual desire for his immediate presence, al-
though the presupposition of that feeling is a desire disposition.
Or again my consciousness of the objective value of objects of
economic use may be independent of any actual desire, although
not of my cognition of their desirableness under certain circum-
stances. It is equally true that the degree of worth or desirability
of an object cannot be straightway identified with the degree of
actual desire. It is undoubtedly proportional to the strength of
desire disposition presupposed, but the strength of a conative ten-
dency or disposition is not measured by the intensity of actual
desire but is inferred indirectly from its effects in volition, or
through the intensity of the emotional disturbance following upon
arrest. The assumption that the strength of a desire disposition is
given directly in immediate modifications of consciousness is one
which introspection makes highly improbable and Ehrenfels,

'Khrenfels, System der Wert-theorie, Leipzig, 1897, Vol. I., Chap. I.,
especially p. 35.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 17

with whose definition we are here concerned, at least does not
admit it.

It is clear, then, that while desire, and conative tendency in
general, must find a place in our worth definition, it cannot be
taken as the psychological fundamental in the sense that it is
the conscious correlate of the funded meaning of the object.
This conscious correlate is feeling. Ehrenfels thus brings feel-
into his definition Desire is not determined by mystical quali-
ties of objects but by aspects of our consciousness which can be
reduced to psychological terms. "All acts of desire are deter-
mined, in regard to their direction as well as their strength, by
the relative increase of pleasure which they, according to the
affective dispositions of the individual in question, bring with
them upon their entrance into, or continuance in, consciousness. "
Feeling is, therefore, after all, primary. The worth of an ob-
ject is directly proportional to the strength of desire, but this
strength of desire is determined by the difference between the
places of the object in the hedonic scale.

In this conception of Ehrenfels the whole psychological
problem of the nature of feeling and desire and of their rela-
tions, is involved. Into that larger question we cannot here
enter. It will be sufficient to notice certain fundamental diffi-
culties which have been generally recognized by the critics of
the position. The criticism turns upon the concept of the deter-
mination of desire by feeling, upon the idea of the causal rela-
tion involved. It is maintained with justification that for a feel-
ing to be a cause of desire it must be actual, that is a present
state of consciousness. But according to Ehrenfels' conception
it is not merely a present state, but a state which does not yet
exist, which is the cause. It is the existence of an object not
yet realized or the non-existence of a present object, which is
desired. The hedonic accompaniment of a not-yet existent
object, itself therefore not existent, cannot in any causal sense
be the determinant of desire. But it may be said that it is the
difference of these two states that is the cause. In that case it
must be either the unfelt, uncognized difference, an abstraction,
which is the cause, or else a new feeling following upon the
judgment of the difference between the actual present feeling

1 8 WILBUR M. URBAN.

and an imagined feeling arising from the assumption of the
existence or non-existence of the object. In the first case we
have a conceptual abstraction made the cause — which is impos-
sible. In the second case a feeling difference has become the
object of judgment and a value moment is already present prior
to desire. It is clear that in some sense feeling or feeling dis-
position is always presupposed by desire but the relation cannot
be described as causal.

Ehrenfels recognizes that upon this causal view of the rela-
tion of feeling to desire, the proposition must be modified to read :
desire is determined by feeling or feeling dispositions. But we
have already seen that worth cannot, in every case be identified
with actual desire, but only with the capacity of being desired,
desirability. Thus Ehrenfels is finally left without any conscious
correlate for the worth moment. Both the feeling and conative
aspects tend to become dispositional.

For reasons of the nature of those developed in our criticism
of Ehrenfels' worth definition, Meinong1 makes feeling the worth
fundamental. The sense of worth is given in feeling signs,
Werth-gefuhle, which are determined in character and degree by
the nature of their -presuppositions (Voraussetzungen).2 These
presuppositions he further conceives, in the case of worth feel-
ings, to be always judgments (or according to his later formula-
tion, judgments and assumptions — Annahmen) and are there-
fore distinguishable from feelings which have merely sensations
or presentations as their presuppositions. With this limitation
of worth feelings we are not now concerned ; for the present
our problem is the more general one of the suitability of feeling
as the worth fundamental — as the psychological equivalent for
the worth moment. The pref erability of feeling as our descrip-
tion of the worth fundamental seems to me to be beyond doubt
and for the following reasons. In general our argument would

1 Meinong, Psychologische-Ethische Untersuchungen, Part I., Chap. I.

2 In presenting Meinong's position I have translated Voraussetzung ' pre-
supposition' rather than precondition, as better adapted to convey his meaning,
and have retained this broader usage of presupposition throughout, although in
the usage of Baldwin it is confined to the higher reflective level, if I understand
his position correctly, that is, his presupposition is always a ' presupposition of
belief.'

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 19

be : There can be no sense of worth without a meaning which
may properly be described as felt meaning, while there can
very well be a sense of worth without that qualification which
we describe as desire and volition.

More specifically, even in those experiences which we
describe as explicit desire or volition, the essence of the desire
can be equally well described in terms of feeling without doing
violence to our speech. The essence of desire is the feeling of
lack or want. We 'feel the need ' of something. What further
qualifies desire is the kinaesthetic sensations which are irrelevant
accompaniments from the standpoint of the essential worth
moment. But it is by no means in the same sense true that
every worth experience involves explicit desire. We may
actually feel the worth of an absent friend without the slightest
trace of that qualification of our feeling which we describe as
actual desire, although of course a conative disposition is pre-
supposed and may become explicit under suitable conditions.
The same is true of aesthetic and mystical states of repose where
actual desire is in abeyance.

What this means for our worth definition is clear. In actual
worth experience actual desire is not necessarily present although
feeling is. The desire is present often merely as a dispositional
moment which, however, may become actual under certain
definite circumstances. In so far, therefore, as our definition is
concerned with the desire moment, we must enlarge it to read —
an object has worth in so far as it is either desired or has the
capacity of calling out desire, has, in other words desirability.
This definition includes the mystical and aesthetic states of
repose already referred to, for no object can become the object
of such feelings which has not been desired and may not under
some circumstances be again desired. Conation is present dis-
positionally (how we shall see later) even in these states of
repose. But the case is different with feeling. In defining
worth as feeling with certain characteristic presuppositions we
mean that every actual worth judgment implies actual feeling
— even in those cases where the worth attitude is scarcely dis-
tinguishable from the cognitive.

Feeling having been taken as the actual conscious corre-

20 WILBUR M. URBAN.

late of worth predicates, the second problem arises — whether
worth feelings are coextensive with feelings in general or
whether some further differentiation appears within the general
class feeling. It is at this point that the definition of Meinong,
the view that feelings of worth are exclusively * judgment-feel-
ings,' becomes important. This view, which may be described
as the intellectualistic theory of worth experience, has given rise
to so many important developments in ethics and aesthetics that
it demands the most careful consideration. Negatively viewed,
it denies the character of worth experience to all feelings which
have as their presuppositions mere presentations, to all feelings
which may be adequately described as the mere feeling tone of
the presentation or as the effect of the entrance of the presenta-
tion into conscioususness. It differentiates ' worth feeling ' from
mere * pleasure-causation,* e. g., pleasure viewed as mere reac-
tion to stimulus.

Before considering in detail the psychological grounds for
this view, it will be well to observe the more general fact that
whether worth experience be defined in terms of desire or feel-
ing, it cannot be made coextensive with either. Desire, in itself,
does not constitute the experience of valuation : there are fleet-
ing desires which do not attain to the level of valuation, a fact
which leads Kruger in his definition, which is in terms of desire,
to make the differentia of worth a certain constancy of desire.
Again, as Meinong points out, illustrations are plentiful of valu-
ation without actual consciousness of pleasure, while a fleeting
pleasure does not necessarily involve valuation. Reflection
upon these facts of experience leads to more strictly logical
considerations such as those which appeared in our criticism of
Ehrenfels' definition. The sense of value cannot be identified
the mere feeling of pleasure (although of course a feeling of
with pleasure when it is made the object of judgment may become
a value) for the feeling of value is conditioned not only by the
presence of objects but also by their absence. The mere absence
of the object is not the condition of the feeling, but the cogni-
zance (in Meinong's terms the judgment) of non-existence.
The hedonic state which would be the effect of the presence of
the absent object is not actual, and can therefore not be, in any

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 21

causal sense, the condition of the desire and of valuation.
Moreover, the cause of the pleasure is often quite distinct from
the object of the feeling of value, often physiological and uncon-
scious. The feeling of value can therefore not be viewed as
the effect or accompaniment of sensation or presentation of an
object but is conditioned by the presupposition of the existence of
the object. For the feeling to have that meaning called worth
it must have an existence meaning.

The negative aspect of Meinong's position, the denial of the
character of worth experience to mere presentation feelings,
appears justified from this analysis of the facts. A funda-
mental distinction seems to exist between feeling which is a
mere feeling tone, accompaniment or effect, of a sensation or
revived image, and feeling attitude which is characterized by
the direction of the feeling toward the object. Feeling attitudes
alone seem to contain the worth moment. It is undoubtedly true
that feeling tpne of presentation, when it reaches a certain degree
of intensity, gives rise to a feeling attitude, to the presentation
of the cause as object and the direction of judgment upon it,
and thus to feeling of worth. But this feeling (or desire, as the
case may be) is distinguished from the feeling tone by the pres-
ence of additional presuppositions, whether exclusively judg-
mental or not, is a question to be determined.

A critical consideration of this positive aspect of Meinong's
definition requires a closer examination of his use of the term
presupposition (Voraussetzung). Under this concept he includes
all those conditions of feeling which are psychical in character,
as distinguished from other causes of feeling which may be dis-
positional and physiological. In this sense a presupposition
may be any psychical process, presentation, judgment (of the
various types, categorical, hypothetical, etc.) and other types of
function, perhaps, such as assumption. In every case where
the presupposition of a feeling is spoken of, the feeling is di-
rected upon an object and is conditioned by some psychical act,
of presentation, of imagination, with its assumption of reality,
or of judgment, judgment being for Meinong a fundamental
form of psychical process. The significance of this distinction
is to be found in the fact that the characteristic meanings of

22 WILBUR M. URBAN.

feelings which distinguish them as feelings of value, are not to
be differentiated in terms merely of the objects toward which
the feeling is directed, nor yet in terms of the causes of the
feeling, but in terms of the cognitive acts or attitudes which
relate the object to the subject.

V.

Is then the presupposition of worth feeling exclusively judg-
mental, as Meinong maintains? To this question our answer
must be negative. But we may admit, to begin with, that
nearly all types of worth attitude do have existential judgments
as presuppositions, and all secondary modifications of worth
attitude are determined by the inclusion or exclusion of judg-
ments, existential and relational, as part presuppositions of
the feeling. But that there is no primary immediate con-
sciousness of value without explicit judgment of existence or
non-existence of the object, cannot be maintained. As was
pointed out in our discussion of the equivocations in the worth
predicates, ideal and imputed values may be attributed to ob-
jects when the question whether they exist or may be acquired
is not raised, and where, accordingly, the attitude can never
reach the point of explicit judgment. The activities of imag-
ination and idealization abundantly prove that the feelings di-
rected upon their objects are really feelings of worth and are
determinative of worth judgments, although they presuppose
mere passing assumptions of the reality of the objects.

Meinong has indeed found himself compelled upon further
reflection to modify his definition of worth feelings as judgment
feelings to the extent that he includes with the judgment feelings
assumption feelings (Annahme-gefuhle). He recognizes that
' often one values an object at a time when there is entirely
wanting all chance for judgments of existence and non-exist-
ence, because it is not determined yet whether the object
thought of as in the future will exist or not.' Moreover, * it is
possible, and it frequently happens that we value an abstractly
presented object without inquiring after its existence.1 And in

1 Meinong, " Uber Werthalten und Wert," Archiv fur Systematische Philos-
ophic, 1895, pp. 327-346. Also his later work, Uber Annahmen.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 23

a later paper1 he further qualifies his position by recognizing
that it is only some universe of reality which is necessarily pre-
supposed, in that the presuppositions are not necessarily cate-
gorical existential judgments, but may be hypothetical or dis-
junctive. Now in all these cases where the object is ' abstractly
presented,' assumed to exist, or asserted to exist conditionally,
reality is presupposed in some sense, there is some reference to
reality. It is also clear that in all these cases the feeling, char-
acterized as feeling of value, is in some way differently qual-
ified from the feeling of pleasantness or unpleasantness — by
this very reference to reality presupposed. The question at
issue is really merely as to the proper characterization of the
reality meaning, whether it rests exclusively upon existential
judgment or not.

And this question is still more ultimately conditioned by a
theory of the existential judgment. To this theoretical problem
we shall presently turn, but it will be in the interests of clear-
ness to seek a preliminary characterization of this presupposi-
tion of reality. There can be no question, in the first place,
that wherever there is the feeling of value, there is reality feel-
ing. Feeling is qualified by a reality meaning of some type.
Thus, when once an object (the existence of which was what I
desired or was what conditioned my feeling of value) is explic-
itly judged non-existent, the object undoubtedly loses its value
for me. The essential condition of its being valued is elimi-
nated. But my appreciation of the worth of an object does not
necessarily, and in every case, rest upon such explicit judgment
of existence, but at most upon a primary undisturbed f resump-
tion of reality. By this primary presumption of reality (of a
reality, moreover, in which the more specific existence mean-
ing has not yet been differentiated) is to be understood the
mere act of acceptance, taking for granted? prior to the ex-

1 " Urtheilsgefuhle, was Sie sind und was Sie nicht sind," Archiv fur die
gesammte Psychologic. Vol. VI., 1905.

2 The use of the term presumption to characterize this relation to reality is,
I think, fully justified both linguistically and psychologically. Our ordinary
speech, it is true, frequently fails to distinguish between presumption and as-
sumption and has, moreover, read into the word presumption a certain ethical
connotation which partially unfits it for the present use. On the other hand,

24 WILBUR M. URBAN.

plicit taking up of the object into a pre-determined sphere of
reality through the existence predicate, and prior to the assump-
tion of existence of an object in the interest of continuity of any
trend of activity, whether of the type of cognition or valuation.

As illustrative of this attitude of primitive presumption we
may consider first the reality feeling which attaches to percep-
tion and presentation simply because of the * recognitive mean-
ing ' l which they have, among which later, however, distinc-
tions between existent and non-existent arise — more especially
the presentations in the fancy or imagination mode where they
are presumed to be real until the entrance of illusion-disturbing
moments which require the presumption to pass over into ex-
plicit judgment and conviction either of existence or non-exist-
ence. The fairy world of the child is a world neither of pure
presentation nor of existential judgment but of presumption.
The same may be said of many ideals of the more developed
mind, as for instance, religious, about which questions of ex-
istence and non-existence are not seriously asked. In all these
cases some psychically pre-determined demand, whether arising
from a more objective cognitive factor of recognition or a more
subjective factor of conative disposition or interest, creates a
presumption of reality.

Such presumption must be carefully distinguished from both
judgment and assumption. The existential judgment arises,
we shall see, only after disturbance in a sphere of reality
already presupposed, it is an act which takes place only after
some disposition, some tendency to recognition, or to renewal
of attitude of feeling or will meets with opposition or arrest. It

the original meaning of the latin praesumptio is much nearer to the use that we
have in mind — it had more the meaning of taking for granted prior to ex-
plicit judgment and was quite different from the conscious assumption of re-
ality as we have it in hypothesis. The modern English dictionaries give as one
of the renderings, taking for granted, the meaning here emphasized. The use
of the term in formal logic (as in fallacies of presumption), while at first appa-
rently against our usage, on closer inspection seems to favor it. A presumption
is a material fallacy, an unconsciously pre-logical taking for granted. Finally,
the great value of the introduction of this term for our immediate purpose is
the possibility of using the prefixes pra, sub and ab, with the same root, to
designate modifications of cognitive attitude.
1 Baldwin's distinction referred to above.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 25

must be equally clearly distinguished from the later, more de-
rived, attitude of assumption of existence which presupposes dis-
positions already created by actual judgment. The assumption,
except when it is what we describe as an unconscious assump-
tion, (and then it is really an approximation to presumption)
recognizes the possibility of the non-existence of the object, and
in some modes of playful assumption (the ' semblant modes '
of Professor Baldwin) is so to speak on the verge of explicit
judgment of non-existence ; but in the making of the assumption
the act is determined by a subjective factor, a demand arising
from already existing dispositions and interests. The assump-
tion is an acknowledgment of this demand.

It is obvious, after this analysis, that the definition of feel-
ing of value under consideration, that it is feeling with existen-
tial judgment as its presupposition, is possible only on the
theory that the primitive form of judgment is the mere act of
acceptance (acknowledgment) or rejection l and involves no
relational aspect, no separation of two elements subject and
predicate. The existential judgment is identical with accept-
ance and the non-existential with rejection. If this view of
judgment (Brentano's)2 can be maintained it follows necessarily
that there can be no feeling of value without judgment presup-
position for all attitude is primarily acceptance or rejection and
the feeling of value is an attitude, not mere presentation plus
feeling. But can mere acceptance or rejection be identified
with judgment of existence and non-existence and at the same
time any useful conception of judgment be retained? I think
not, and for the following reasons.

The essentials of the view here under consideration are : (a)

1 The use of the terms acknowledgment and rejection as correlative is most
unfortunate, for it prejudices the whole question. Rejection, as any one who
will consult the dictionaries will discover, is not the opposite of acknowledg-
ment. Acknowledgment has as its opposite disavowal, while the opposite
of rejection is acceptance. This linguistic relation corresponds precisely o the
psychological. Acknowledgment and disavowal both represent the explicit
judgmental acts by which a reality already presupposed is affirmed or denied.
Mere acceptance or rejection of an object presupposes nothing more than a
presumption of reality or disturbance of that presumption.

2 For a presentation and discussion of Brentano's theory of judgment see
Stout, Analytical Psychology, Vol. I., Chap. 5.

26 WILBUR M. URBAN.

That presentation and judgment (acceptance or rejection of
the existence of the presentation) are two different and irre-
ducible elementary aspects of consciousness ; (ft) that while the
affirmation or negation of A (as function) adds something to its
mere presentation (as function), the affirmation or negation of
As existence (as content) adds nothing to the affirmation or
negation of A (as content). The first thesis is the key to the
position. Is there such a thing as simple apprehension, pre-
sentation without acceptance, or does apprehension involve
apprehension of existence? At first sight the former of the
two possible alternatives seems to be true. From the stand-
point of analysis alone, we seem to find cases where the element
of affirmation is at a minimum, or even seems to be entirely
lacking, and a merely presentational consciousness remains.
Leaving out of account the case of doubt or suspended judg-
ment where, although at a minimum, tendencies to judgment
still remain, we may turn immediately to the typical case of
aesthetic contemplation. Here it is said, we have, when the
contemplation is pure, when the aesthetic is unmixed with other
factors, a strictly presentational consciousness. This view we
shall find it necessary to reject and for the following reasons :
In the first place, aesthetic contemplation is an attitude — not
mere presentation ; in it there is at least a resting in, * ein Haften
an der Wirklichkeit,' either outer or inner reality. As such it
is more than mere presentation. No total concrete state of
consciousness is mere presentation for, while for the purposes
of the psychologist the idea of a purely presentational con-
sciousness is sometimes a useful abstraction, every actual ex-
perience presupposes a minimum of acceptance or rejection.
The procedure therefore which takes this abstraction, made for
purposes of analysis, as a picture of reality and from it infers,
for instance, the unreality of the aesthetic object and experience
and its exclusion from the sphere of worth experience, is
vitiated by serious fallacy.

But if the merely presentational consciousness be but an ab-
straction, there still remains the question — to what extent, in
actual concrete cases of aesthetic attitude, all acceptance and re-
jection may be seen to be excluded and the purely presentational

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 27

approached. Perhaps the difference is negligible. Most aesthetic
attitudes, it is recognized by all, do not give us this contempla-
tion pure. In the sublime and tragic, for instance, pseudo-aesthetic
factors, so called, enter in, in the form of acknowledgments and
rejections, judgments of various kinds, — and even beauty, in its
narrower sense, contains, as partial moments, normative judg-
ments. If we are to find any concrete aesthetic experience
of * pure contemplation,' presentation, it must be in the simplest
perceptual forms and form qualities. These are indeed usually
taken as the typical aesthetic objects when the aesthetic is thus
defined, but even here it is doubtful whether the element of
acceptance and rejection, of conation, can be excluded. It is
true that these forms and form qualities, when abstracted from
the elements in which they inhere, may be viewed as the objects
of purely presentational activity ; nevertheless their construction
was the product of conative activity which involved spontaneous
acceptance and rejection, presumption of reality. Viewed genet-
ically, every aesthetic feeling of form presupposes a disposition
created by preceding conative activity.

The distinction between simple apprehension and accep-
tance is then, even in aesthetic contemplation, a relative one.
What shall be said of the second part of the thesis that accep-
tance or rejection of an object, A, is identical with the affirma-
tion or negation of the existence of A, or, in other words, with
judgment? Acknowledgment or rejection does undoubtedly
presuppose the reality, in some sense of the presentational con-
tent. This is the same as saying that all conation is directed
upon objects presumed to be real. It does not follow however,
that explicit existential judgment is involved. We must, I
think, look upon the existential judgment as derived from a
simpler and more ultimate attitude toward a coefficient of reality
presupposed in all conation, even on the perceptual level.
Acknowledgment and rejection involves presumption of exist-
ence but not necessarily judgment.

Such a distinction between presumption and judgment in-
volves of course a theory of the nature of judgment. Into the
logical questions here raised we cannot go in detail, but this
much at least may be said. The position maintained by Sig-

28 WILBUR M. URBAN.

wart1 (among other logicians) that judgment, if our conception
of it is to retain any useful significance, * must be regarded as
establishing a relation, even in its existential form,' seems unas-
sailable. When the relational aspect is allowed to lapse judg-
ment becomes practically indistinguishable from conation. It
is true that the existential judgment occupies a unique position.
It does not establish a relation between its subject and the
predicate being * but between an object as idea and an object as
intuited.' Affirmation of existence or non-existence presupposes,
as mere acceptance or rejection does not, the beginning at least
of the differentiation of subject and predicate.2

On the theory of judgment here developed, the existential
judgment and the pure presentation (in so far as " contempla-
tion " is pure presentation) are secondary, derived attitudes,
derived from the primitive -presumption of reality presupposed
in all acceptance or rejection of an object. The difference
between the presumption and judgment is that while in the
former we have merely acceptance and rejection in the latter we
have acknowledgment and disavowal, acceptance and rejection
plus conviction and belief. Returning then to the question of the
necessary presuppositions of the feeling of value, it is clear that
there must be the presumption of reality for without it there can
be no attitude toward the object, attitude involving either accep-
tance or rejection or disposition to accept or reject. But it is
equally clear that the existential judgment cannot be the sole and
necessary presupposition of the feeling, for there can be no such ex-
plicit judgment (acknowledgment and disavowal) except as there
is already some reality meaning, some presupposition of reality.
Again the hypothetical pure presentation, in so far as there is any
such mode of consciousness, is equally secondary and derived.

^igwart, Logic (translation), Vol. I., p. 72.

2 The following quotation taken, by permission, from the proofs of the sec-
ond volume of Professor Baldwin's Genetic Logic (chapter on "Acknowledg-
ment and Belief ' ) , puts the situation admirably : " The existence meaning which
the judgment always presupposes in the sense given, may, when explicity as-
serted, be called a predicate but not ana ttributive predicate, not a separate ele-
ment of presented context or of recognitive meaning, attributed to the subject
matter. It is only the explicit assertion of the presupposition of belief in the
sphere in which the subject matter is constituted an object of thought."

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 29

It is the result of abstraction from the primitive presumption of
reality, the result of arrest of this presumption implicit in all
conation. Meinong's use of the expression (abstractly presented)
is significant in this connection ; to abstractly present means to
strip off the reality feeling involved in the first experience.
This relation to reality feeling may however be partially restored
by a further movement of conation in which the presented object
is assumed to exist, an attitude we find characteristic of certain
secondary contemplative aesthetic experiences.

This leads us finally to a consideration of the relation of the
attitude of assumption to the primitive presumption of reality
and the existential judgment. This is important for the
reason that the special modification of the feeling which has
assumption as its ' presupposition,' the feelings of the imagina-
tion (Phantasie-geflihle) of Meinong's school have been made
much of in recent discussion. For one thing it has been asserted
that these feelings are not real and therefore not feelings of value,
although under certain circumstances they may stand for, or
represent, real feelings. Our own view, which will be developed
more fully later, is that they are real feelings in any sense which
has significance for psychology that they have a presupposition
of reality, although from the point of view of reflective evalua-
tion of the objects of such feelings (the axiological point of view)
the judgments which spring from these feelings may be invalid.
But a more adequate characterization of this attitude is our first
problem.

Assumption, as a cognitive attitude, has two meanings.
According to its first meaning it is an acceptance, a taking as
existent, of an object when there is an underlying sense of the
possibility of its being non-existent. In this sense also it is a
half way stage between the primitive presumption of reality and
the existential judgment with its conviction. In this sense it is a
secondary movement or act of cognition within a developing
sphere of reality, bounded by the primitive presumption of reality
and the existential judgment, affirmative or negative. From the
point of view of conation, it is an act determined by the momen-
tum of a subjective disposition or interest. In its second mean-
ing it is not pre- judgmental but post-judgmental, that is a

30 WILBUR M. URBAN.

permanent assumption is created by habitual judgment; it pre-
supposes dispositions created by acts of judgment and is derived
from the judgment attitude. In this case the assumption
approaches closely to the presumption and for this attitude the
two terms are often used interchangeably. It is important
to emphasize these two meanings 1 for the feeling attitudes
involved are in many respects quite different, and the confusion
of the two has led to misinterpretation of worth experience.
Thus the feelings which attach to assumptions of the first type
may be described as feelings of the imagination ; they belong
to the mode of semblance or « make-believe.' But those which
attach to assumptions of the second type are more accurately
described as feeling abstracts or feeling signs and represent the
acquired funded meaning of past judgment feelings. To this
class, we shall see later, belong all those feelings, funded mean-
ings which inhere intrinsically in general concepts. Such terms
as truth, virtue, duty, etc., have functioned in particular existen-
tial judgments and it was upon the basis of these judgments that
the feelings of value for which these terms stand arose, but when
they are thus formed they are abstractly valued without explicit
judgments of existence or non-existence. They represent an
assumption which has arisen through formation of habit.
Explicit judgment is always the terminal of a process of adapta-
tion. From the primitive presumption arises, through arrest,
assumption, which in turn, passes into judgment and the later
assumption.

We are now in a position to summarize our position as to
the nature of simple appreciation, primary feelings of value, in
so far as it is related to Meinong's criterion. We agree to the
extent that we include among the feelings of value only such
feelings as have reality meanings, that is, have some pre-
supposition of reality. As to the nature of that presupposition
of reality, we deny its limitation to existential judgment and
include the two attitudes of presumption and assumption. This
may be said to be the result of our critical analysis of the

1 Baldwin's recently published theory of 'schematic,' function recognizes
both these modes of < assumption,' the existential judgment lying, genetically,
between them. Genetic Logic, Vol. I.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 31

meanings of experiences of worth. There remains still the
question of the functional and genetic account of these different
presuppositions. Before undertaking this we must glance briefly
at another criterion of feelings of value recently developed, more
especially by Lipps.

VI.

It is maintained that all feelings of value are feelings of
personality — that the analysis which finds the criterion of
feeling of value in the nature of the attitude toward the trans-
cendent object, really overlooks the significant moment, which
is the reference of the feeling to the subject, the personality.
Feelings of value are feelings of activity of the subject, the acts
of judgment, etc., being of only secondary importance. Such
a criterion is presented in the formula of Lipps i1 " Der Wert
jeder Lust ist bedingt durch einen Personlichkeits wert." Now,
while it is undoubtedly true that there are types of feelings of
value which have as their presupposition explicit reference to
the personality, — those feelings which we have described as
values of characterization, including feelings of obligation, desert,
etc., — it must nevertheless be recognized that these values
are secondary and acquired, that they presuppose judgments
referring the attitude to the presented self, the self being a
founded object, the product of an ideal construction based upon
preceding experiences of value. The only sense in which this
statement may be said to be true is that in primary feelings of
value (as distinguished from simple pleasure), there are certain
modifications, certain implicit meanings which, when reflected
upon, lead to their reference to the self. Such a modification
of Lipps' view we may accept.

These meanings which appear on the level of simple appre-
ciation prior to reference to the self, Kruger 2 has described as
depth and breadth of the feeling in the personality and he con-
ceives them to constitute a third dimension of feeling, beside its
intensity and duration, a dimension which is determined by a
relative constancy of desire disposition. His development of

1 Lipps, Die ethischen Grundfragen, Chapter I.

2 Kruger, Der Begriff des absolut Wertvollen als Grundbegriff der Moral-
philosophic, Leipzig, 1898, Chapter 3 ( 'Zur Psychologic des Wertes ').

32 WILBUR M. URBAN.

the criterion is both analytical and genetic. Valuation is dis-
tinguished from mere desire and simple-pleasure * causation ' by
a moment of relative constancy of desire. Desire of itself does
not constitute valuation and valuation is never mere desire or a
series of desires. He further conceives the relation of this
' desire-constant ' to the individual desire on the analogy of the
relation of concepts to individual sensations and percepts. A
valuation always presupposes a relatively constant disposition.
As a totality this disposition appears as an actual moment in
consciousness only in a corresponding judgment. Yet the judg-
ment of value is not the valuation itself. This is given rather
in the characteristic modification of the experienced desire and
feeling which he conceives to grow in depth with the develop-
ment of the * desire-constant.' l He suggests that it is probable
that in the first stages of conscious life only that was consciously
striven after which brought with it relative increase of pleasure
and value formation has probably taken its rise in such strivings
but every desire has a tendency to develop a relative constancy
and thus to pass into a valuation. It leaves behind in the per-
sonality constant dispositions, and with them traces of value.
The mechanism of pleasure-causation is thus broken through
by the formation of values ; and, as soon as the function of
valuation is formed at a single point, the will is no longer exclu-
sively determined by the intensity and durati6n of expected
pleasure. Through the fact of valuation the affective-volitional
life gets, so to speak, a third dimension, the value of a constant
desire is determined by its breadth and depth in the personality.
The interest of this definition of Kruger's is to be found in
the fact that it is an attempt to connect the appreciative distinc-

1 One point, however, he has left undetermined. Is the worth experience
given in feeling or desire ? In some passages he speaks as though the sense of
worth were given in feeling as determined by or as determining desire, in others
as though it were given in the experiences of desire themselves. As a matter
of fact he does not seem to have faced this question of psychological analysis,
as the following passage indicates ; " Where the capacity or function of valua-
tion is to some degree realized, there the individual experiences of feeling and
desire are in a peculiar manner heightened and deepened, they have a personal
character. They find, so to speak, in the personality a fuller and more individ-
ual resonance. We can in such a case speak of a more highly developed
'Gemiitsleben ' " (p. 50)

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 33

tions which differentiate feelings of value from other feelings
(and which lead ultimately to the characterization of the self
and to the explicit reference of the object to the self) with the
functional, dispositional conditions of the feeling, and it has
been presented here at some length because this concept of con-
ative constants or dispositions as the necessary conditions of
feelings of value, feelings with depth and breadth, is precisely
the concept which we need to connect these appreciative mean-
ings with the reality meanings which the preceding analyses
have distinguished. At an earlier stage in the development of
this paper it was seen that both the concepts of feeling and
conation must find a place in the definition of worth experi-
ence. It is now seen that feelings of value are not completely
characterized by reference to their presuppositions of reality
(presumption, judgment and assumption) but that we must go
more deeply into the conative dispositions which determined
these acts of presumption, judgment and assumption.

How then shall we corjceive this relation of the two determi-
nants of feelings of value? If we describe the acts of cogni-
tion as the actual psychical -presuppositions and the conative
tendencies as the dispositional conditions, our problem would
read : What is the relation of the actual presuppositions to the
dispositional conditions as determinants of feelings of value?
The answer to this question must be in genetic terms. We have
already seen that there is a certain genetic relation between the
attitudes of presumption, assumption and judgment. Each, in
its way, represents a functional attitude toward a psychically
predetermined object, the acceptance of a demand, acquiescence
in a control factor, and therefore each is a type of reality
meaning. But the demands, the controls, vary at different
stages of the genetic series. An analysis of the manner in
which the dispositional factor functions at the different stages
of development should give us a point of view from which to
unify the results of our study.

The condition, determinant, of the primitive presumption of
reality seems to be that the object shall have recognitive mean-
ing for a conative tendency. At this point the cognitive and
conative moments can be scarcely distinguished. As far back

34 WILBUR M. URBAN.

as we may go in our analysis, interest, conation, seems to deter-
mine recognition, and recognition is the condition of the first
reality meaning which characterizes feelings of value. In the
primitive presumption of reality the dualism between subjective
and objective control factors has not yet emerged. It is with
the first arrest of a conative tendency, through the development
of an independent cognitive interest, and differentiation of the
recognitive factor from the conative, that the innocency of
primitive presumption is disturbed and a differentiation of sub-
jective and objective demands or controls appears. Here the
attitude of assumption emerges, determined largely by the sub-
jective control factor of the conative disposition, often in oppo-
sition to objective controls already established — but not neces-
sarily so. Assumption of the existence of an object is the
acceptance of a subjective demand, after arrest of primitive
presumption, and constitutes a transition stage between pre-
sumption and explicit acknowledgment of a control as objec-
tive. I am inclined to agree with Professor Baldwin that a
pure fancy mode, play of fancy, described by him as the first
semblant mode, constitutes a genetic transition between pre-
sumption and assumption, but for our purposes it is negligible.
From the assumption attitude emerges the existential judgment,
either positive or negative. It represents not merely the accep-
tance or rejection of an object but the explicit acknowledgment
or disavowal of a certain control factor. It is important to ob-
serve that the control factor may be either the original objective
moment or the subjective moment determinant in assumption,
that the existential judgment may be acknowledgment of
either factor, but in that case the subjective has, by that very
process, been transferred to the objective side of the equation.

VII.

The material is now before us for a summary restatemen
of our original definition of value, as funded affective-volitional
meaning, in terms of psychological equivalents. The psycho-
logical equivalent of the worth predicate is always a feeling,
with certain meanings determined by actual cognitive presuppo-
sitions, types of cognitive reaction which actualize pre-existent

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. 35

conative dispositions. The value or funded meaning of the
object is its capacity of becoming the object of feeling and
desire through actualization of dispositional tendencies by acts
of judgment, assumption, etc.

The conative disposition is the fundamental determinant of
the feeling of value or appreciative meaning of the object but
the disposition may be actualized, represented in function by
different cognitive attitudes, or acts, of the types described, and
according as it is one or the other of these types are the feel-
ings qualified in the manner described.1 Underlying the feeling
of value attached to the idea of my friend is the conative dispo-
sition, the interest created by former desires for his presence
and satisfaction of those desires, but that feeling may now arise
upon mere momentary assumptions of his existence without a
trace of desire for has immediate presence. All * disposition-
feelings ' however actualized, are feelings of value because
they represent the funded meaning of affective-volitional proc-
ess, although they have different reality meanings. From the
standpoint of the extension of the term, the class, feelings of
value, includes aesthetic feelings, feelings of the imagination,
so called, as well as practical and ethical attitudes.

In general, then, we may conclude that feeling of value is
the feeling aspect of conative process, as distinguished from
the feeling tone of simple presentations. And by conative
process we understand the total process of development by

1 In the consideration of the relation of the actual presuppositions to the dis-
positional conditions there are still certain questions which have considerable
bearing upon later discussions. Thus Witasek maintains that while it is probably
true that feelings of worth arise upon the mere presentation of an object related
to desire dispositions, nevertheless, since desire presupposes judgment, and these
dispositions have been formed by preceding judgments, the worth feeling is
ultimately still a 'judgment-feeling.' Now it may be admitted that judgments
enter into the formation of these desire dispositions but as dispositional they
are merely conative tendency, for it is the essence of judgment to be explicit
and actual. Again it is argued (by Saxinger) that the dispositions correspond-
ing to judgment feelings are different from the dispositions correlated with
assumption feelings and he bases his argument upon differences in the laws
governing the two kinds of feeling. Into the consideration of this question we
cannot enter here — that will be reserved fora later study. We may simply
emphasize our own position that worth feeling is a function of conative dispo-
sition, whether conation expresses itself explicitly in judgment or assumption.

36 WILBUR M. URBAN.

which affective- volitional meaning is acquired, the total process
including actual and dispositional moments. How these dispo-
sitions, and with them the feelings which they condition, are
modified, both qualitatively and quantitatively, at different
stages of this development, by changes in presuppositions, and
more especially by the inclusion of secondary judgments of
relation, etc., is the problem of the second part of this study.

SOME IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR
ATTITUDES.

BY PROFESSOR ALFRED H. LLOYD,
University of Michigan.

The ' situation,' already described by some as the absolute
of a certain conspicuous group of thinkers, is in general taking
such an important part in current philosophical discussion that to
an outsider philosophy must seem very like to an employment
bureau, if it does not appear at last to have become an intelli^
gence office. Undoubtedly, too, the very commonplaceness or
the plebeian character of the term is one of the most serviceable
and hopeful tendencies of current thinking. In the present
paper, then, only falling into line with so many others who
have written and spoken, I would discuss, let me not be so bold
,or broad as to say advertise, four peculiarly interesting situa-
tions and their induced attitudes ; namely, the moral situation,
the artistic, the practical and the natural, and their four atti-
tudes, respectively the ethical, the esthetic, the intellectual or
cognitional, and the spiritual.

The situation, to begin with, whatever specific variations it
may have, in general has its rise, which is to say also gets its
widest meaning, in the fact that structure necessarily implies
function. Back of this fact, then, I do not propose to go at the
present writing. But, this admitted, another is immediately
manifest, function necessarily implies conflict. The conflict,
moreover, which is the general situation, is between (i) an exist-
ing structure, describable either as the body of the individual
agent's habits or as the established social environment, the body
of the social institutions, to which just through his habits the
individual is, as if conventionally or traditionally or unreflec-
tively, always a part, and (2) the natural environment as dis-
tinct from the social or definitely and humanly organized
environment. In other words the conflict is between man with

37

38 ALFRED H. LLOYD.

his life set to certain norms and nature ; between < second
nature ' and first nature ; between the formal reason and sensa-
tion, or the legislative will and impulse. Also it is between
one organization and another organization, the latter usually if
not invariably being more inclusive than the former and neces-
sarily rising into conflict with the former whenever, to use an
annoying but concise and pertinent term, it * functions ' in any
way. And, just once more, in order to avoid the serious mis-
take of even a suspicion that the * natural environment,' here
mentioned, is external to what is human, let me say of the
conflict that it is describable also as being between the formal
or structural in personal experience and the vital, even the most
distinctively personal, in personal experience. Thus, there is
a sense, important to a true understanding of what is here
meant, in which the characteristically personal and the natural
are identical or synonymous. Both the personal and the natural
are always coming into conflict with the definite and formal,
that is, the structural, in life or experience. The structural is not
distinctively personal or natural ; on the contrary it is * factional '
or socially corporate.1 Accordingly, on the assumption of this
identity of the personal and the natural, the situation, or its
conflict, must be due not less to personal initiative than to any
of the processes of mere * natural selection' and of course too the
conflict can never be with an external nature. Indeed, if the
conflict could be with an external nature, then structure simply
could not imply function.

So we see that the characteristic condition of the situation in
general is conflict and we see too, although the foregoing state-
ment has been very brief, the origin and the nature of this con-
flict. With this preliminary view, therefore, I turn now to my
special task. I would show how, to the end of solving its
conflict, which always is as specific and concrete in its terms
and issue as the inducing structure is itself definite in char-
acter, the situation develops through the following principal
moments.

1 See an article : ' The Personal and the Factional (or formal or structural)
in the Life of Society,' in The Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific
Methods, June 22, 1905.

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES. 39

I. THE MORAL SITUATION.

The first moment is naturally that of a presumed sufficiency
of the subject's or agent's existing structure or, as the terms are
here used, of the formally human. The definite habits or the
social institutions are taken and are asserted, not only as quite
equal to the presented and confronted emergency, but also as
possessing intrinsic worth and normative or structural finality,
and the natural, in the sense of that which is formally external
to these habits or institutions, is an object only of an unreason-
ing fear. The natural is feared, blindly feared, just because it
is at once quite real and yet external at least to the formal
reason, to the reason of the structure-bound human.

So I view the first moment in the development of the situ-
ation and it seems to me to present specifically the moral situ-
ation. Not, of course, that morality is confined to conditions
such as these, but these are the characteristic conditions of the
situation as moral. These distinguish the moral situation from
other defined situations. In a sense, certainly important, all
situations are moral, as also they are all artistic or practical,
or natural, but this is only to say, in so many words, that the
specific conditions which make distinct situations are themselves
in their way functional as well as structural, and so are general
to development while being at the same time particular and
definable. Functionally any moment or situation, any struc-
ture must comprise all others.

Possibly the peculiarly moral character of this first distinct
moment is best seen in what my account has certainly, although
not openly stated, namely, in the conceit of the freedom of the
will. The ' free will ' is simply a name for the power of the
agent to fulfil and exemplify the structural adequacy. Accord-
ingly, to use now this name, the conceit and practice of a ' free
will ' and the accompanying unreasoning fear of what is external
to this freedom, a fear which may often take the form of bravado,
of what can be only an asserted indifference to danger, are the
determining factors of the moral situation.

But this, somebody will at once object, makes the moral and
the legal identical, and such an identity every reflective man
must promptly and emphatically resent. At once I grant that

40 ALFRED H. LLOYD.

the moral and the legal are here made identical. I grant also
that reflection must separate them. But it is to be said, also
promptly and emphatically, that no situation as such is itself
reflective. Situations are not attitudes, although they are
always springing from attitudes and are also constantly in-
duced by them. Situations, as said before, are structural in so
far as definable at all, and the moral situation is in consequence
determined by the formal law. But situations, being also func-
tional, induce attitudes, and in the particular case at hand the
moral situation induces the ethical attitude. The very differ-
ence between these -terms, even as they are widely used, tells
the story. The ethical is the moral, just by dint of the given
legal structure becoming active or functioning, made reflective
in an attitude. Again, any induced attitude involves a gener-
alization and idealization of those formal conditions which make
the inducing situation, and, although, as we shall see, the attitude
itself must make a situation, it should never be confused with
the particular situation whose functioning has given it rise.
Thus -the functional nature of a structure, which here and now
means specifically those positive conditions that formally deter-
mine the moral situation, makes certain a movement out of
formal bondage to those conditions into a state of only mediate
dependence on them. They become only means to some rela-
tively undetermined end. They are made mediately rather
than immediately, ideally rather than materially, spiritually
rather than literally significant. And thereupon the moral sit-
uation gives way to the ethical attitude, and by the same token
morality is saved at least from a positive, uncompromising
legalism.

But not from legalism altogether. The ethical attitude is
still characteristically legalistic ; in terms, however, not of the
positive law, but of ' duty,' * conscience,' or the « moral ideal,'
which is only an abstraction of its spirit or general functional
value, from the positive, formal law. The ethical attitude, in-
duced, as was said, by the functional character of the moral sit-
uation, asserts the existing structural formalism, the manifest
legalism, to be worth cultivating, and a cultivated legalism must
always value law as a general principle above law as a visible

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES. 41

program, the program becoming henceforth only instrumental
to the unseen principle. Lawfulness, in short, rather than the
specific law or structure, is the concern of the ethical attitude.
How often ethics is called normative, and surely its normative
character is nothing more nor less than its abstract legalism.

Further, the ethical attitude, just because, at least in spirit,
still legalistic, is also in another respect like its inducing situa-
tion. Although not dogmatically indifferent to nature nor quite
blindly fearful of her, it is nevertheless humanly conceited or
anthropocentric. The principle of law is always more hospitable
than a legal program ; a structure in use is more widely sym-
pathetic than a structure just in statu quo ; but the ethical atti-
tude still sees no positive worth in nature except as she is
humanly, or humanely, disposed. So to speak the spirit of the
fear of her still remains, as if to keep its congenial company
with the surviving, albeit only spiritual or functional legalism.

Fear become a spirit loses much of its dread. Law become a
principle loses much of its vigor. In a word, the normative,
ethical attitude must mean an important modification in the
actual situation. Ethical, as distinct from social or political
legalism, by its very idealism, which is to say by its devotion to
the spirit of law and its feeling only of the spirit of fear, makes
man actively hospitable towards the organization of nature, with
which morally he was in such dire conflict, and in doing this it
induces, or initiates, the artistic situation. The ethical attitude
-put in practice is the peculiar life of art.

II. THE ARTISTIC SITUATION.

So I pass to the second moment in the development of the
general situation, and this I would call, not the moment of as-
sumed and asserted human sufficiency, in which nature is an
object of blind fear, but the moment of human condescension,
assumed and asserted, towards the natural, towards nature's
law, structure or organization. This, too, as already said, is
the artistic situation. Art, let it be kept in mind, is character-
istically a situation, not an attitude. It is just a living up to a
humanly sympathetic nature and in just so far it actually is the
practice of what the ethical attitude may be said to preach.

42 ALFRED H. LLOYD.

Once more, though I may repeat myself too much, it is, not the
moral, which is politically legalistic, but the ethical, which is
functionally, spiritually or personally legalistic, rendered incar-
nate, and as having such character it shows man actually in a
truce with nature. In art the human is seen actively to have
assumed a relation of equilibrium, necessarily more or less un-
stable, or of something very like an armed neutrality, between
itself, its structure, the norms of its life, and nature's structure.
Actively man moulds nature to his conceits. He makes her
glorify his image. In her life, in her powers and processes, he
realizes, or presumes to realize, only a deeper and fuller expres-
sion of himself. Art is thus, like morality, anthropocentric,
but it is man big with nature. It is the little human swelling
with the big natural, and as so conditioned it is what we call
poetic or creative, all its activities being informed with analogies
of the natural to the human and embodying, although never
without a violence that only the poetic imagination can have
made possible, nature's metaphors of the human. The neces-
sary violence, too, imparts to art as strong a sense of comedy as
of tragedy, as is shown in the readiness with which we laugh or
weep whenever we see the little human swollen with the big
natural. Simply in art, always as comic as tragic, man ap-
pears, not as teaching or seeking ideally, but as actually prac-
ticing a legalism that has lost the rigor of the formal law and a
fear of nature that is tempered by a very real sense of humor.

But here comes an objector. I am accused of narrowing
beauty, which is the recognized goal of art, to conditions that
require accord, if not literal and prosaic, at least metaphorical,
with the positive structure of the human agent, just as before I
seemed to identify morality with legality. In a word, I seem to
have left no room for objective or natural beauty. To the
present objector, however, I have to make just the answer
made before. A situation is not an attitude, although it always
induces one. The artistic situation, as its structure becomes
function, induces the esthetic attitude, by which the very con-
ditions making the life of art are idealized. Thus, for the
esthetic attitude, man is not, as in art, the determining center.
He is the observer indeed, but only the passive observer. His

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES- 43

structure, losing its character of a sole measure for all other
structures or for the structure of nature as a whole, becomes but
one among the others, any one of which may be the center from
which a judgment is passed. True, for the esthetic attitude, all
structures, or all measures, by which nature, so to speak, is thus
made to measure or judge herself, are as z/~ sensitively human,
but this only shows how humanly passive the esthetic attitude
is, how for it nature, not man, is the artist. The characteristic
object, therefore, of the esthetic attitude truly is beauty, sen-
sibly manifested and sensitively measured, but, instead of the
beauty of man to himself, as this is reflected in nature's meta-
phors just of his life, it is objectively natural beauty. The
metaphors are no longer exclusively human, but nature objec-
tively is just a sphere of metaphors, metaphor poised sensitively
against metaphor and calling deeply and passionately each to
each and through their poise and their passionate call she is
beautiful. She is beautiful to man ; not, as in art,y#r him and
his structural conceits. For the esthetic attitude even the works
of human art must meet the demands of natural beauty in that
they must accord, or sensitively sympathize, with what sur-
rounds them. The setting, or frame, of a work of art is thus
an important factor in its beauty.

But where now are the law and the fear? The law, and
with it, man's so-called freedom have been lost or merged, nay,
they have been fulfilled in the law and the freedom of nature
which an objective beauty reveals ; and the fear is become awe.
Nature is no longer fearful, but awful or sublime. Awe is not
man fearing for his own safety ; it is man sensitive to the fears
of the whole world and in that sensitiveness feeling the lawless
law of nature. Yet such terms as these and the seeming gran-
diloquence to which they lead may very easily obscure the
meaning here in my mind. The meaning would take a view
of life in its lowest as well as in its highest terms, in its simplest
as well as in its grandest expressions. A psychologist could
not be more minute or prosaic in his viewpoint than my mean-
ing is intended to be. Simply any structure, whatever its size
or its complexity, its significance or its dignity, being always
functional, must come to this sensitiveness, which we know,

44 ALFRED H. LLOYD.

however grandiloquently, as awe towards the lawless law of
nature. What is sensation but structure meeting the violence
of nature. What is structure that nature is mindful of it.

But the esthetic attitude, induced, as has been shown by the
artistic situation and ideally sensitive, not merely to the unity of
man but also, as if actually feeling for them, to the unity of all
things with nature, leads man out of the artistic into the prac-
tical situation.

III. THE PRACTICAL SITUATION.

The practical situation, as the third moment to be consid-
ered, is the moment of the human structure, the whole body of
habits and institutions become — but the right phrase is hard to
find — merely a natural utility. Only, I would call it also, bor-
rowing a word from the political vocabulary of the day, a * float-
ing' utility. So does man again put into practice the preaching
of one of his attitudes. He comes actively to treat his formal
life just as his esthetic consciousness has already revealed it to
him, namely, as only mediate to an indeterminate nature, and,
as he does this, the last traces of his esthetic sensitiveness dis-
appear and the metaphors, human or objective, in which this
had found expression, become only dead metaphors. Man no
longer is even an interested observer of nature ; he is just a
mechanical incident within her unpurposed movement.

In social evolution, where the practical situation in all its
phases is written large, the time is one of traditions and human
conceits and devotions of all sorts become purely conventional,
which is to say useful but not yet put in use, or treasured, as
money is treasured, but not yet actually invested, and accom-
panying these conditions there is also, as if the last defense of
the passing regime, a blind fatalism. So long as this fatalism
remains blind the old structure of life can at least seem to sur-
vive, although the immediate vitality once belonging to it has
already gone.

Of course, further, when habits and institutions come, as
said above, to be a mere formal utility, a floating utility, the
personal in human life has virtually already separated itself
from the structural and this separation as a positive condition or

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES. 45

status belongs to the situation now under review. But, although
virtually separate, the personal has not yet so found itself.
Thus, in social evolution, this condition shows itself in a blind
individualism, always so assertive of independence of the exist-
ing structure, yet also so helpless without it : but, psycholog-
ically or biologically, how best to describe this virtual yet undis-
covered or unappreciated separation I am at a loss to know.
Certainly it shows the functional self, the vital nature in an
agent, become at least blindly superior to the structural or
morphological self, and it shows, too, whether psychologically
or sociologically, that although nature seems to be on the point
of taking to herself the formal life of man, allowing it to
crumble or rather to assimilate to herself, man nevertheless
really survives, rising in his vitality only to cooperate with her
in the use of his establishments. Technically how the psy-
chologist would wish this moment or situation in development,
perhaps in the development of volition, described, I am quite
unable to guess, and possibly he has no suitable term or phrase
for it, but the situation, I am sure, is a real one. Here, how-
ever, a possible misunderstanding must be avoided. Thus, in
the first place, as indeed already indicated, I am now describ-
ing only a situation and the situation comprises rather a division
of the self in fact or condition, the structural self having become
insensitive or mechanical, than a division of the self in conscious-
ness. To just such a purely factual division the blind fatalism,
or the blind individualism, mentioned before, was clearly an
index. Moreover, in the second place, a division of the self,
whether in bare fact or in consciousness, is rather logical than
psychological or rather social than personal, and this one needs
constantly to remember. Logically there may be two selves,
the vital and the structural, and sociologically also, in so far as
society is viewed abstractly in terms only of so much formal
organization, there may be two selves, the individual and the
citizen, but mere counting is never real seeing. Function and
structure are truly two, but they are not truly two selves.1

1 A question certainly worth asking, at least in a note, is here unavoidable
to him that reads between the lines. Is logic, at least formal logic, even such a
logic as Kant's ' transcendental' logic, true rather to experience as expressed.

46 ALFRED H. LLOYD.

So, to gather together what has been said so far, this third
moment, the moment of the practical situation, is the moment of
the human in a sense profaned and turned merely useful ; it is
the moment of life wholly without poetry, the once stirring
metaphors being all dead, and subject to the qualification just
made — it is the moment of a factual division of the self, the
structural self still keeping up appearances through a blind
fatalism or a blind individualism and the vital, functional self
being as real and also as unseen or unseeing as the blindness.

And now, for the third time, an objector confronts me with
a question. In reducing the formal structure of human life to
a mere natural floating utility am I not confusing the practical
with the economic? Well, let me concede that so far I have
defined the practical situation in terms which directly suggest
the sort of mechanicalism or hollow conservatism and naturalism
in life that economics demands. Economics characteristically
demands no interference with the * credit of the country,' which
is to say the status in quo, the existing structure or organization,
but its loyalty to the organization is formal, not substantial. It
requires mankind to be both morally and esthetically without
emotion. Its typical man must be just a money making
machine, and what is money but the incarnation of a floating
natural utility. Thus, with its peculiar abstraction, economics
knows only utility, and in the practical situation utility certainly
seems supreme. It is so supreme that any purpose for it is quite
forgotten ! Accordingly, as already conceded, the objector is
right; he is right, so far as he goes; and he has, in fact, as
before, only assisted my exposition. But, to repeat the refrain,
a situation is never an attitude, although it always induces one.
For the case in hand, the practical situation induces the reflective
attitude and this saves the situation from its bondage to a mere
formal utility.

socially, which is to say, of course, structurally or formally, than to experience
as personal, vital or functional ? This question, as put, almost begs its own
answer, an affirmative one. Only real logic, in the sense of a logic that,
although recognizing form in experience, treats experience as also imbued with
a vital superiority to its form or structure, as if with a ' legal supremacy,' can
possibly satisfy the demands of what is characteristically personal. Moreover,
in this fact it would seem as if the pragmatist must find the method in the re-
puted madness of his philosophy.

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES. 47

The reflective, which, as here understood, is also the cogni-
tional attitude, only appreciates or idealizes the actual conditions
of the practical situation. Thus, it takes as something real the
end which the formal utilitarianism, the idle conventionalism of
the practical situation has certainly implied but as certainly
concealed in its blind individual or in its blind fate and just in
recognizing or facing this end it shows the vital, functional self,
on the one hand, become conscious — or seeing — and assertive
independently of mere structure and the structural self, on the
other hand, made positively mediative, that is, mediative of
something quite real although formally external to it or ' objec-
tive/ The conscious reality of the vital self and the objective
character of the mediation of the structural self are thus here
considered to be just that which makes the attitude now in ques-
tion reflective or cognitional. For so-called reflection structure
is become only means, instrument or method and it is method to
what is regarded distinctly real but is, in the words used before,
* formally external.' This phrase, let me say further, signifies
(i) formally or structurally indeterminate,1 a character clearly
belonging to whatever is said to be objective, and yet also (2)
real. The reality is not necessarily apart from the structure ; it
is so only in form, that is, only relatively ; it may be, nay, I
think it must be actually in the structure, in its very character
as only means or method, just as any true end must be immanent
in, or vital to, the means to it. But as an attitude^ reflection
naturally holds the conscious, vital self and the real end to their
formal unlikeness or aloofness and so treats the now insensitive
structure as the medium of what very commonly is known as an
abstract idea, a universal, a principle, or — not to prolong the
list further — a conception, that belongs, not to the world of
sensation or body, but to the world of thought or mind.

So, to recall a mode of statement already employed, a con-
ception, which is the typical ' object ' of reflection, while in just
the sense indicated negative only relatively to form or subjective
structure, nevertheless, in so far as negative or outside, can be
merely a logical rather than a psychological datum ; although,

JThat is, of course, so indeterminate relatively to the positive structure of
the subject or agent.

48 ALFRED H. LLOTD.

as a matter of course, a psychologist may still be directly inter-
ested in the peculiar conditions that determine the data of the re-
flective attitude as thus amenable to logical treatment. In other
words, psychologically, there can be no independent conception,
and the supposed independence of the conception can spring
only from the standpoint, essentially logical, that would view
the reflective attitude wholly in terms of the dichotomy of what
is formally structural and what is not.1 Moreover, the reflec-
tive attitude itself is the psychological moment for logic, al-
though the very dichotomy, on which it rests, makes the
moment only a passing one, as we shall see.

But, the issues between logic and psychology aside, it is
now apparent, I think, in what important way the dying of the
metaphors in human art or in nature, or the accompanying birth
of an insensitive human structure, or — once more — the devel-
opment of that purely formal or floating natural utility was des-
tined to serve the progress of the general situation and the
solution of the conflict which we found characteristic of it.
The insensitive structure, as if a medium, or more narrowly a
language, without emotion or metaphor, made possible what
somewhat technically is known as strictly scientific research.
It made possible a free, thoroughly candid or open-minded, struc-
turally or humanly unprejudiced study of nature instead of the
more passive and more restrained observation that belonged to
the esthetic attitude. Thus the esthetic attitude showed man
not yet free from himself, although his fear had changed to
awe ; it showed him perhaps free in spirit, but not yet free in
letter, not yet really free ; whereas the reflective or cognitional
attitude shows him at least very much nearer to a complete
freedom. Has not his structure become a real instrument?
Has he not distinctly found his vital self? Has he not ac-
knowledged an * objective' nature? The reflective attitude,
then, shows him free, free from — or in? — himself, in just so
far as his no longer sensitive structure has become a mere tool
or method in real use ; that is, in the use of his new-found self
as this confronts nature.

1 Witness the principles of identity and contradiction. Witness, also, the
character of the independent concept as an abstract universal.

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES. 49

And yet, although there is this advance, it is necessary now
to issue a caution. The reflective attitude must not be under-
stood to involve any mere betrayal of the quondam metaphors ;
on the contrary, it is only a fulfilment of them. It cannot
properly or honestly thank the absolute, I mean the general
situation, that it is not as the esthetic attitude was ; but, instead,
it must realize that as the tool or structure is put to real use, as
the utility is really invested, the experience which has gone
before, sensitiveness, metaphors and all, is exactly what deter-
mines the momentum and efficiency of the activity. True, the
6 objective' nature in the case is deepened beyond any mere
conformity with man, beyond even the licentious conformity of
the esthetic consciousness, but it is still nature, and the same
nature too, and the metaphors, although all dead, are dead only
as sensitive metaphors, and so to speak as insensitive meta-
phors are still active in the tool or structure. Indeed, however
grandiloquently, I wonder if the method or the medium or the
structurally mediated conception of the reflective attitude may
not be said to be the very metaphors that died with the rise of
the practical situation spiritually resurrected. Conception
would then be definable as a sort of greatly deepened and
spiritualized esthetic experience ; an esthetic experience still
dependent on metaphor, but so deepened or possibly so purely
objective as to be, not human, but just natural. Is not the nat-
ural truth, which reflection seeks, I cannot say, which reflection
observes, and which is always the peculiar content of the con-
ception, even more awful or more deeply sublime than natural
beauty? Indeed man, structural man, almost must be declared
to be, not mimb, but dead, in the presence of its sublimity.

I have just said * almost,' and before, in speaking of the free-
dom that comes with reflection I used and emphasized the phrase
* in so far as,' declaring in so many words that the freedom was
not necessarily complete but was proportional to the measure in
which the structure of human life had come into real use. Now
complete use, with that necessary death of the human before
the sublimity of nature, is not possible in reflection. It is true
that reflection is active and that reflection uses the medium or
structure supplied to it, but its use is related to the ideal very

50 ALFRED H. LLOYD.

much as the psychologist tells us attention is related to volition.
It is true, too, that reflection in its own nature somehow demands
the complete use referred to, but reflection, characteristically,
must keep means and end, language and idea, structure and
meaning, at least somewhat apart. Accordingly the reflective
attitude can fulfil itself, can realize its own demands, only by
yielding to a new situation, namely, to the wholly natural
situation, and to this I now turn.

IV. THE NATURAL SITUATION.

Of this fourth and at least for the present study last special
situation I shall write somewhat more briefly, concluding my
paper rather abruptly, as many stories are brought to an end,
and, also as with the stories, at a point where possibly the situa-
tion is getting most deeply interesting and might seem to demand
the longest chapter.

As the foregoing has already indicated, the physical situa-
tion belongs to the moment, not of any surviving conceit of
human sufficiency, not of any slightest remnant of human con-
descension towards nature, and not of any merely formal
naturalism or blind fatalism, but distinctly of the death or loss
of the human structure in the natural. The structural man dies
just in order that the vital and natural man may live or rather
the death of the one is in and with the rising life of the other.
Again, the natural situation is the moment, not of any merely
miserly utilitarianism, but of the human structure become, instead
of an aimless, formal, floating, hoarded utility, a real, positively
natural utility. So, through reflection, has the practical been
changed to the natural situation.

Manifestly the reflective attitude calls for this change. By
its very ' self-consciousness,' that makes the human structure
only mediative, by its conviction of the inner or vital self as
well as of the outer nature being at once real and formally ex-
ternal to the structure, and by its own active use of the struc-
tural medium, it calls for just that fatal invasion or overwhelm-
ing assertion of nature which makes the natural situation. In
history as in psychology the reflective attitude is always an in-
vitation to nature to realize herself. It summons, or already it

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES. 51

has admitted and recognized, what seems barbarian into what
has stood for civilization or what seems impulsive, sensuous and
irrational into the well-controlled and rational, and being such
an invitation or such a cordial recognition it is mainly occupied
with a constant — what shall I say? — a constant offering of its
humanly insensitive, now only mediative structure which pos-
sibly a Teufelsdrockh would call man's cast off clothing, to
nature, the world of its ' objective ' curiosity. So Alexander,
pupil of Aristotle, sought to clothe the peoples of the eastern
Mediterranean, and so the reflective life psychologically, as
well as historically, would clothe the not less invaded than in-
vading world of sense. The general process is often known as
assimilation, more or less benevolent, often as experimentation,
but under either name it shows nature trying on the human and
it is conducted under the guidance of the dead, in the sense of
the dehumanized metaphors of the esthetic consciousness. Per-
haps these metaphors become wholly insensitive, should rather
be called analogies, even objective analogies, as is suggested
by the fact that the experimentation, or the assimilation, strives
to use them the nature-end forward, not as with the esthetic
attitude, the man-end forward. But certainly they guide the
process and testify accordingly to the honesty of the invitation
to nature or to the cordiality of the recognition of her, and in
the natural situation one sees, again, that nature has only taken
reflection at its word.

Nature takes reflection at its word with a new structure, a
new organization. The content of this new organization and
its form are determined, moreover, by the bounds of the inducing
activity, or of what might also be called the functional capacity
or versatility of the passing structure, and by the analogies that
have constantly guided it. Simply, if there be definite structure
at the start, and just this, as will be remembered, was the start-
ing point for the present study, then also that stucture is, -propor-
tionally to its structural definiteness, limited to a certain sphere
of activity, or functional character, and the bounds of this sphere
measure the extent of the new organization, while the inevitable
analogies developed with its exploitation determine the new
form. Structure, the definite, can of course be only * relative,'

52 ALFRED H. LLOYD.

but being relative it must be complex and being complex it must
be functional as well as structural, and being functional it must
induce, through such moments as have been recounted here, new
structure ; new, because the original structure was relative and
functional, and structure, because the definite can induce only
the definite. Must not what is new be always true to its origin?

But, without further description or explanation of the natural
situation, an objector must now be met; perhaps the same, who
appeared before, although he gave no name. Thus, this time I
am charged with having confused the natural with the physical.
The spiritual attitude, however, for so I have to call it, although
also it may be called volitional or even religious, is what I would
now depend on to save the natural from being just physical.
This fourth attitude arises in the following way. It is but an
appreciation of the fact, suggested early in my narrative, that
the natural must be also the characteristically personal. Natural
and personal were said to be both external to, or in conflict with,
the formal or structural. Moreover in the reflective process of
experimentation must not that trying-on be as truly on the part
of the inner vital self, as if the waiting will, as on the part of
the outer and * objective ' — or physical ? — nature ? How often
it has been pointed out that the natural was objective and could
be objective only in the way of being, not essentially, but
merely formally or structurally external to the human. Nature,
then, truly is physical only in so far as she is * objective.' Ex-
ternal to the functional or vital in what is human she cannot
be, and this being true, in just so far, she is spiritual ; in just
so far her reconstruction is man's volition ; in just so far man
says, religiously, of her activity : * What she does, I will.' She
may never appear literally in man's image, but her life is one
with his life and the spiritual or volitional or characteristically
religious attitude puts just this valuation upon her.

So this paper having accomplished its specific task must
come to an end. Of course, as from any narrative, a score or
more of < morals ' might be drawn. The distinction, moral or
ethical, between good and evil, for example, evidently should
be judged relatively to the specific situation or to the induced
attitude, within which*it manifestly belongs, and the distinction,

IMPORTANT SITUATIONS AND THEIR ATTITUDES. 53

practical or reflective, between truth and error, relatively to
what is a qualitatively different situation or attitude. Again the
need, whenever discussion or explanation would become at all
searching or vital, of always carefully distinguishing between
the personal and the social, the functional and the structural,
perhaps too the pragmatic and the dogmatic, and at the same
time also of always making these distinct things work together
is also evident. But such < morals,' however urgent or numer-
ous, may be left safely to the imagination.1

1The MS. of this article was received December 16, 1906. — ED.

DISCUSSION.

GENETIC MODES AND THE MEANING OF THE
PSYCHIC.1

When we can explain chemical affinity we may attempt to explain
instinct; when we have explained instinct we may attempt intelli-
gence. The explanation offered by dynamic realism 2 of the ' mean-
ing' of the simplest of natural phenomena will presumptively be the
explanation of the principle underlying all reactions.

We may ask why a comet pursues a given course rather than an-
other. The answer is two-fold. First, because of the nature of the
forces constituting the comet; second, by reason of the combinations
of energy existing in the universe through which it passes. In other
words, the trajectory of the comet is determined by correspondences
existing between the comet and its environment. We might say that
the trajectory of the comet is its path of least resistance, but this is
only part of the truth. The nature of the energic structure of the
comet is also a factor — the most important one. It has, we say, a
certain mass of gravity. It has that which makes it a positive energic
element in a universe of energy. It might be considered fanciful to
suppose that as the extrinsic pull which draws the mother to her child
has also its intrinsic side called affection, so there is an intrinsic affec-
tion corresponding to the extrinsic pull of the planet. Nevertheless,
all analogy would indicate that, if not an affection or instinct, there is
nevertheless an intrinsic element in all these cases.

So with the chemical element, all that we know about it consists
in reactions, t. e., interferences of some type of energy with the
energic complex of the environment. One of the most important of
these reactions is what we call chemical affinity. If we indicate the
locus formula of sodium by Na and that of chlorine by Cl, then the
expression NaCl (common salt) means that these two loci have certain

1 A fragment found among the author's papers and submitted by C. J.
Herrick. — ED.

2 Some of the implications of this term as used by the author will be found
in his late writings, particularly. « Fundamental Concepts and Methodology
of Dynamic Realism, 'Jour. Phil.. Psych., Sci. Methods, Vol. i, No. n, 1904;
and * The Law of Congruousness and its I/ogical Application to Dynamic Real-
ism,' Ibid., Vol. i, No. 22. 1904. — C J. H.

54

DISCUSSION. 55

compatibilities or correspondences which result, the energic complex
being what it happens now to be in this particular environment, in a
closer articulation or assimilation in these particular loci than between
the activities expressed by Na and H,O, for example. Under other
conditions of environment, say at a high temperature or in the presence
of larger amounts of water, the chemical affinity, as this harmony is
called, would not be apparent. Now the cube of salt deposited from
saturated solution is an expression to eye and touch of a moie or less
permanent association of the types of energy labelled Na and Cl
respectively. It is not true that Na and Cl are present in salt ; they
are potentially present in the sense that under certain conditions these
two loci emerge from the complex with the same value they possessed
when they entered it. NaCl is a new energy complex capable of
reacting in its own appropriate way (dependent upon its own genetic
mode) and is different from either Na or Cl. It is not an algebraic
sum of the energies Na and Cl, but a trajectory resulting from their
blending. Salt occupies a definite position in nature and is capable
of impressing its energy upon other energic units in a way peculiarly
its own. Thus, no other substance tastes as salt does. Now if there
be an intrinsic side of the activity, NaCl, that too may be totally un-
like that of any other chemical substance. We say salt has an affinity
for water. Does it thirst? When the human organism is dehydrated
by evaporation due to exercise or the injestion of water imbibing sub-
stances, the state of receptivity to water or disturbed equilibrium
existing in the tissues of the body is converted into a special nervous
affection which may even become an element in consciousness and
build up the most elaborate system of associations. But at some
early point in this process we may discover simply living tissue need-
ing water and back of this certain chemical substances with an affinity
for water — in other words, exactly the same thing that NaCl has.

This disposition to change its form by uniting with another ele-
ment is illustrated by the formation of all solutions and it is a mistake
to suppose that a substance in solution is the same as a substance in
solid form. It has claims to be called the same substance only because
it can be evaporated out. But in the course of this process there is
always a complete change of properties. Solid salt is not salty to the
taste, salt in solution is not cubical. In short, we must school our-
selves to see in the so-called elements or substances energic complexes
whose form (nature) is at once determined by their primary locus
formula and the impact or effect of the environment. So true is this
that any substance can be fully understood only by knowing its pri-

56 GENETIC MODES AND THE PSYCHIC.

mary form and also the totality of its reaction with the environment.
This is perhaps quite unlike our nai've apprehension of objects which
seem to have complete objective independence. The simplest experi-
ment illustrates the error, however. We suddenly remove the support
beneath the vase and instead of a thing-of -beauty in repose, we have a
thing-in-motion and then a thing-in-a-hundred-pieces. The vase is
just as really dependent, so far as being what it seems is concerned,
on connections with the environment as the flower is which withers
when removed from the parent stem.

Now the existence of any typical form of energy, say a crystal, in
any energic complex is a fact of interaction. If a broken crystal is
plunged into a suitable medium, it will be restored (this process goes
on in rocks in case of metamorphism) . The presence of the crystal
acts as a determinant for the aggregation of other masses. The
extraneous energy associates itself with the preexisting types in accord-
ance with the types of energy already called into being. The most
noted instance of this power is in the case of animate matter. The
most astounding fact in nature is perhaps the power of a worm or a
man to ingest the same materials and create in one case worm sub-
stance and in the other human tissue. In the case of the crystal there
may be millions of microliths contained in one crystal and all are alike
or similar. In the case of the man there are millions of cells and we
are able to distinguish groups of coordinated types.

The harmony between a particular energic type and its environ-
ment may be relatively stable or it may be dependent upon a high
degree of constancy or invariability in that environment. Again, the
energic unit may be progressively alternating or cyclical. Such a
condition is found in the individual life which, like the trajectory of a
planet, passes through a variety of progressively adjusted relations to
the environment or comes into relation progressively to different
environments. That type of energic unit which passes consecutively
into relations with different energic complexes will alter its locus
formula. When water passes into a gaseous state it is no longer
water.

Here is a moving point. I, as a geometer, make * cross -sections '
of that point in relation to its environment and construct a locus (say
y — 2px). But in doing all this I have not produced the concept of
a parabola such as I get when I see one. I go on varying the locus
formula and produce successively a circle, an ellipse, etc. You may
say that these things can be predicted in advance. The series of locus
formula? might be, but no power would enable us to experience a

DISCUSSION. 57

circle till I saw it. Each new form has a meaning (differentia) in
experience peculiar to it.

Now, as a biologist, I have no doubt that the various sense organs
arose by successive variations from some primitive type. As dynamic
monist (or functional psychologist, if you prefer), I consider the
psychical and physical to be two ways of expressing a real activity.
But, as ' psychic' (Baldwin's limitation1), my subjective experience is
very different when visual and tactual sensations respectively are
evoked. As has so often been said, there is no reason why certain
vibrations awaken sensations of green and others of sweet.

When eyes came in vogue, a new thing, a new ' genetic mode '
arose. You could never have predicted it. You might have pre-
dicted the size and form of the rods and cones and the index of re-
fraction of the lens but the subjective interpretation in intimate ex-
perience is not a priori predictable. It is conceivable that a child
might, by unconscious movements, happen upon a sensation entirely
new to it. The series of « psychic ' events is not subject to scientific
analysis. The subsequent psychological construction is wholly syn-
thetic and consists in relational redistribution and combination. These
may be construed among themselves and with other facts which we do
not call psychological.

It may be said that the modes of immediate consciousness are the
only ones that could be genetic in this sense, that all others could be
predicted from the earlier. These are doubtless the only ones we can
know anything about. The power of prediction rests upon the pre-
sumption of the cyclical nature of action — 'uniformities' we call
these cycles, whether heart-beats or eclipses. If we project these
cycles on a ' cross-section ' of experience, our predictions are valid in
that plane. We may have as complete a system as possible plotted by
our science, like a plot of hundreds of observations upon some mov-
able star and may, on this basis, lay out the orbit fully upon the plane
of experience, but this is not the same thing as the star moving in
space. The 4 meaning ' of this we could perhaps only discover by
being the star. All this may be another name for the limitation of
knowledge, but it is a necessary limitation of knowledge and has to be
reckoned with. But if a thing be truly genetic, every new stage is
really new and not a repetition, nor can we know from the past what
new value may attach to the progressive modifications. We must let
go of the cause-and-effect traditions — never backward turn the wheels
of time.

1 Baldwin's Did. of Philos., art. ' Psychic or Mental.'

5 8 GENETIC MODES AND THE PSYCHIC.

A corollary is that another stage of being is l genetically ' possible
in which the energy of the present shall be elaborated in such forms
as may present to experience something totally inconceivable to c the
heart of man.'

The further question arises, however, (and this is not so easy to
answer) if genetic (psychic)1 modes arise that have no predicaments
in the past and no necessary determinants in the present, how do they
cohere in a universe — how belong in an organic whole ? The answer
is, "They do not."

The l psychic,' as psychic, is neither parallel to anything nor set
in any kind of serial, or other, nexus with anything else. Anything
possessing such relations would necessarily be predictable, /. e., to a
being having complete knowledge. But no being can know what I
feel. All fat generalizations I make regarding the data furnished in
immediate consciousness (everything psychological, in other words) I
may relate or communicate, the peculiar tone or flavor of conscious-
ness (its meaning) can neither be imparted nor anticipated. When we
develop an organ for the ultra-violet rays we shall experience a new
1 genetic mode,' but if the anticipations of science go far enough, we
may not thereby get a single new psychological element; we shall
simply find a value for this particular x and all is in.

This sphere of epiphenomena can only be interpreted by reference
to the metaphysical predicate of individuality. The three necessary
forms or categories of our thinking, time, space and mode, each con-
tributes to the definiteness of experience by conditioning it. Mode is
that condition which is indispensable to individuality. Time is the
necessary form of inner experience, space of outer experience, mode
is prerequisite to all experience — it is the form of all experience.

We do not expect to encounter space or time ' spatzierend ' by
themselves. We do not try to line them up with the contents of special
experiences and to make them cohere in a system with these. No
more can we take the predicament of individuality in experience and
set it in relations. I can say a great deal about green things. I can
predict that they will arrive in April in special forms, but that which
makes greenness different from sweetness or b flat belongs to the
formal category of mode. We have a sense of spatial extension, of
temporal limitation, and, in like manner of special peculiarity. This
is the tag which gives rise to the sense of other-ness or difference.

1 It does not appear that Professor Baldwin limits genetic modes to the
psychic, but I am of the opinion that it is safe to use that term only within these
limits, if non-predicableness is insisted on in their definition.

DISCUSSION. 59

So far as we are concerned, then, the genetic modes find their
illustrations in the psychic — in our own peculiar content of experience,
but it may be that every form of self-centered experience — all forms
of vector activity, at least — have their inner meaning and that this,
again, is reflected upon the great centre of reference of the whole sys-
tem as a total meaning. This form of self-interpretation of energy
that we call consciousness may be one of an innumerable multitude of
similar incommunicable experiences which taken together form the

real ' meaning' of the world.

C. L. HERR1CK.1
FORMERLY OF DENISON UNIVERSITY.

1 Deceased.

CORRIGENDA.

In Dr. Hughes' article, * Categories of the Self,' THE
REVIEW, Vol. VIII., 6, p. 405, line i, read 'instinctive' for
1 instructive ' ; p. 41 1 , line 13, read « the self is not homogenous.'

In Miss Vichelkowska's article, in the November issue also,
p. 385, line 7 from the bottom, omit words 'and diagonal';
line 5 from bottom, add words ' See key to Fig. 40.'

60

N. S. VOL. XIV. No. 2. March, 1907.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

THE PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY.1

BY PROFESSOR JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL,

University of Chicago.

Functional psychology is at the present moment little more
than a point of view, a program, an ambition. It gains its vi-
tality primarily perhaps as a protest against the exclusive excel-
lence of another starting point for the study of the mind, and it
enjoys for the time being at least the peculiar vigor which com-
monly attaches to Protestantism of any sort in its early stages
before it has become respectable and orthodox. The time
seems ripe to attempt a somewhat more precise characterization
of the field of functional psychology than has as yet been of-
fered. What we seek is not the arid and merely verbal defini-
tion which to many of us is so justly anathema, but rather an
informing appreciation of the motives and ideals which animate
the psychologist who pursues this path. His status in the eye
of the psychological public is unnecessarily precarious. The
conceptions of his purposes prevalent in non-functionalist circles
range from positive and dogmatic misapprehension, through
frank mystification and suspicion up to moderate compre-
hension. Nor is this fact an expression of anything peculiarly
abstruse and recondite in his intentions. It is due in part to his
own ill-defined plans, in part to his failure to explain lucidly
exactly what he is about. Moreover, he is fairly numerous and
it is not certain that in all important particulars he and his con-
freres are at one in their beliefs. The considerations which are

1 Delivered in substantially the present form as the President's Annual Ad-
dress before the American Psychological Association at its fifteenth annual
meeting held at Columbia University, New York City, December 27, 28 and

29, 1906.

61

62 JAMES ROWLAND AN CELL

herewith offered suffer inevitably from this personal limitation.
No psychological council of Trent has as yet pronounced upon
the true faith. But in spite of probable failure it seems worth
while to hazard an attempt at delineating the scope of function-
alist principles. I formally renounce any intention to strike out f
new plans ; I am engaged in what is meant as a dispassionate i
summary of actual conditions.

Whatever else it may be, functional psychology is nothing
wholly new. In certain of its phases it is plainly discernible in
the psychology of Aristotle and in its more modern garb it has
been increasingly in evidence since Spencer wrote his Psy-
chology and Darwin his Origin of Species. Indeed, as we
shall soon see, its crucial problems are inevitably incidental to
any serious attempt at understanding mental life. All that is
peculiar to its present circumstances is a higher degree of self-
consciousness than it possessed before, a more articulate and
persistent purpose to organize its vague intentions" into tangible
methods and principles.

A survey of contemporary psychological writing indicates,
as was intimated in the preceding paragraph, that the task of
functional psychology is interpreted in several different ways.
Moreover, it seems to be possible to advocate one or more of
these conceptions while cherishing abhorrence for the others. I
distinguish three principal forms of the functional problem with
sundry subordinate variants. It will contribute to the clarifica-
tion of the general situation to dwell upon these for a moment,
after which I propose to maintain that they are substantially but
modifications of a single problem.

I.

There is to be mentioned first the notion which derives most
immediately from contrast with the ideals and purposes of struc-
tural psychology so-called.1 This involves the identification of
functional psychology with the effort to discern and portray the

^he most lucid exposition of the structuralist position still remains, so far
as I know, Titchener's paper, 'The Postulates of a Structural Psychology,'
Philosophical Review, 1898 [VII.], p. 499. Cf. also the critical-controversial
papers of Caldwell, PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, 1899, p. 187, and Titchener,
Philosophical Review, 1899 [VIII.], p. 290.

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 63

typical operations of consciousness under actual life conditions,
as over against the attempt to analyze and describe its elemen-
tary and complex contents. The structural psychology of sen-
sation, e. g., undertakes to determine the number and character
of the various unanalyzable sensory materials, such as the vari-
eties of color, tone, taste, etc. The functional psychology of
sensation would on the other hand find its appropriate sphere
of interest in the determination of the character of the various
sense activities as differing in their modus operandt from one
another and from other mental processes such as judging, con-
ceiving, willing and the like.

In this its older and more pervasive form functional psychol-
ogy has until very recent times had no independent existence.
No more has structural psychology for that matter. It is only
lately that any motive for the differentiation of the two has ex-
isted and structural psychology — granting its claims and preten-
sions of which more anon — is the first, be it said, to isolate
itself. But in so far as functional psychology is synonymous
with descriptions and theories of mental action as distinct from
the materials of mental constitution, so far it is everywhere
conspicuous in psychological literature from the earliest times
down.

Its fundamental intellectual prepossessions are often revealed
by the classifications of mental process adopted from time to
time. Witness the Aristotelian bipartite division of intellect and
will and the modern tripartite division of mental activities.
What are cognition, feeling and will but three basally distinct
modes of mentaTaction ? To be sure this classification has often
carried with it the assertion, or at least the implication, that
these fundamental attributes of mental life were based upon the
presence in the mind of corresponding and ultimately distinct
mental elements. But so far as concerns our momentary inter-
est this fact is irrelevant. The impressive consideration is that
the notion of definite and distinct forms of mental action is
clearly in evidence and even the much-abused faculty psychol-
ogy is on this point perfectly sane and perfectly lucid. The
mention of this classic target for psychological vituperation
recalls the fact that when the critics of functionalism wish to be

,

64 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

particularly unpleasant, they refer to it as a bastard offspring
of the faculty psychology masquerading in biological plumage.

It must be obvious to any one familiar with psychological
usage in the present year of grace that in the intent of the dis-
tinction herewith described certain of our familiar psychological
categories are primarily structural — such for instance as affec-
tion and image — whereas others immediately suggest more
explicit functional relationships — for example, attention and
reasoning. As a matter of fact it seems clear that so long as
we adhere to these meanings of the terms structural and func-
tional every mental event can be treated from either point of
view, from the standpoint of describing its detectable contents
and from the standpoint of characteristic mental activity differ-
entiable from other forms of mental process. In the practice
of our familiar psychological writers both undertakings are
somewhat indiscriminately combined.

The more extreme and ingenuous conceptions of structural
psychology seem to have grown out of an unchastened indul-
gence in what we may call the * states of consciousness ' doc-
trine. I take it that this is in reality the contemporary version
of Locke's * idea.' If you adopt as your material for psycho-
ogical analysis the isolated * moment of consciousness,' it is very
easy to become so absorbed in determining its constitution as to
be rendered somewhat oblivious to its artificial character. The
most essential quarrel which the functionalist has with structur-
alism in its thoroughgoing and consistent form arises from this
fact and touches the feasibility and worth of the effort to get at
mental process as it is under the conditions of actual experience
rather* than as it appears to a merely postmortem analysis. It
is of course true that for introspective purposes we must in a
sense always work with vicarious representatives of the particu-
lar mental processes which we set out to observe. But it makes
a great difference even on such terms whether one is directing
attention primarily to the discovery of the way in which such a
mental process operates, and what the conditions are under
which it appears, or whether one is engaged simply in teasing
apart the fibers of its tissues. The latter occupation is useful
and for certain purposes essential, but it often stops short of

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 65

that which is as a life phenomenon the most essential, t. £., the
modus operandt of the phenomenon.

As a matter of fact many modern investigations of an ex-
perimental kind largely dispense with the usual direct form of
introspection and concern themselves in a distinctly functionalist
tic spirit with a determination of what work is accomplished and
what the conditions are under which it is achieved. Many ex-
periments in memory and association, for instance, are avow-
edly of this character.

The functionalist is committed vom Grunde auf to the avoid-
ance of that special form of the psychologist's fallacy which
consists in attributing to mental states without due warrant, as
part of their overt constitution in the moment of experience,
characteristics which subsequent reflective analysis leads us to
suppose they must have possessed. When this precaution is no-
scrupulously observed we obtain a sort of -pate defoie gras psy-
chology in which the mental conditions portrayed contain more
than they ever naturally would or could hold.

It should be added that when the distinction is made be-
tween psychic structure and psychic function, the anomalous
position of structure as a category of mind is often quite forgot-
ten. In mental life the sole appropriateness of the term struc-
ture hinges on the fact that any moment of consciousness can
be regarded as a complex capable of analysis, and the terms
into which our analyses resolve such complexes are the ana-
logues— and obviously very meager and defective ones at that
— of the structures of anatomy and morphology.

The fact that mental contents are evanescent and fleeting
marks them off in an important way from the relatively per-
manent elements of anatomy. No matter how much we may
talk of the preservation of psychical dispositions, nor how many
metaphors we may summon to characterize the storage of ideas'
in some hypothetical deposit chamber of memory, the obstinate
fact remains that when we are not experiencing a sensation or
an idea it is, strictly speaking, non-existent. Moreover, when
we manage by one or another device to secure that which we
designate the same sensation or the same idea, we not only
have no guarantee that our second edition is really a replica of

66 JAMES ROWLAND AN G ELL

the first, we have a good bit of presumptive evidence that from
the content point of view the original never is and never can be
literally duplicated.

Functions, on the other hand, persist as well in mental as in
physical life. We may never have twice exactly the same idea
viewed from the side of sensuous structure and composition.
But there seems nothing whatever to prevent our having as
often as we will contents of consciousness which mean the same
thing. They function in one and the same practical way, how-
ever discrepant their momentary texture. The situation is rudely
analogous to the biological case where very different structures
may under different conditions be called on to perform identical
functions ; and the matter naturally harks back for its earliest
analogy to the instance of protoplasm where functions seem
very tentatively and imperfectly differentiated. Not only then
are general functions like memory persistent, but special func-
tions such as the memory of particular events are persistent and
largely independent of the specific conscious contents called
upon from time to time to subserve the functions.

When the structural psychologists define their field as that
of mental process, they really preempt under a fictitious name
the field of function, so that I should be disposed to allege fear-
lessly and with a clear conscience that a large part of the
doctrine of psychologists of nominally structural proclivities is
in point of fact precisely what I mean by one essential part of
functional psychology, /'. £., an account of psychical operations.
Certain of the official exponents of structuralism explicitly lay
claim to this as their field and do so with a flourish of scientific
rectitude. There is therefore after all a small but nutritious
core of agreement in the structure-function apple of discord.
For this reason, as well as because I consider extremely useful
the analysis of mental life into its elementary forms, I regard
much of the actual work of my structuralist friends with highest
respect and confidence. I feel, however, that when they use
the term structural as opposed to the term functional to desig-
nate their scientific creed they often come perilously near to
using the enemy's colors.

Substantially identical with this first conception of functional

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 67

psychology, but phrasing itself somewhat differently, is the view
which regards the functional problem as concerned with dis- I
covering how and why conscious processes^ are what they are, J
instead of dwelling as the structuralist is supposed to do upon
the problem of determining the irreducible elements of con-
sciousness and their characteristic modes of combination. I
have elsewhere defended the view that however it may be in
other sciences dealing with life phenomena, in psychology at
least the answer to the question 'what' implicates the answer
to the questions * how ' and ' why.' 1

Stated briefly the ground on which this position rests is as
follows : In so far as you attempt to analyze any particular state
of consciousness you find that the mental elements presented to
your notice are dependent upon the particular exigencies and
conditions which call them forth. Not only does the affective
coloring of such a psychical moment depend upon one's tem-
porary condition, mood and aims, but the very sensations them- 1
selves are determined in their qualitative texture by the totality I
of circumstances subjective and objective within which they
arise. You cannot get a fixed and definite color sensation for
example, without keeping perfectly constant the external and
internal conditions in which it appears. The particular sense
quality is in short functionally determined by the necessities of
the existing situation which it emerges to meet. If you inquire
then deeply enough what particular sensation you have in a
given case, you always find it necessary to take account of the
manner in which, and the reasons why, it was experienced at
all. You may of course, if you will, abstract from these con-
siderations, but in so far as you do so, your analysis and descrip-
tion is manifestly partial and incomplete. Moreover, even when
you do so abstract and attempt to describe certain isolable sense
qualities, your descriptions are of necessity couched in terms
not of the experienced quality itself, but in terms of the condi-
tions which produced it, in terms of some other quality with
which it is compared, or in terms of some more overt act to
which the sense stimulation led. That is to say, the very

1 ' The Relations of Structural and Functional Psychology to Philosophy,'
Philosophical Review, 1903 [XII.], p. 203 ff.

68 JAMES ROWLAND AN G ELL

description itself is functionalistic and must be so. The truth
of this assertion can be illustrated and tested by appeal to any
situation in which one is trying to reduce sensory complexes,
e. g., colors or sounds, to their rudimentary components.

II.

A broader outlook and one more frequently characteristic of
contemporary writers meets us in the next conception of the task
of functional psychology. This conception is in part a reflex
of the prevailing interest in the larger formulae of biology and
particularly the evolutionary hypotheses within whose majestic
sweep is nowadays included the history of the whole stellar
universe ; in part it echoes the same philosophical call to new
life which has been heard as pragmatism, as humanism, even
as functionalism itself. I should not wish to commit either
party by asserting that functional psychology and pragmatism
are ultimately one. Indeed, as a psychologist I should hesitate
to bring down on myself the avalanche of metaphysical invec-
tive which has been loosened by pragmatic writers. To be
sure pragmatism has slain its thousands, but I should cherish
scepticism as to whether functional psychology would the more
speedily slay its tens of thousands by announcing an offensive
and defensive alliance with pragmatism. In any case I only hold
that the two movements spring from similar logical motivation
and rely for their vitality and propagation upon forces closely
germane to one another.

The functional psychologist then in his modern attire is in-
terested not alone in the operations of mental process considered
merely of and by and for itself, but also and more vigorously in
mental activity as part of a larger stream of biological forces
which are daily and hourly at work before our eyes and which
are constitutive of the most important and most absorbing part
of our world. The psychologist of this stripe is wont to take
his cue from the basal conception of the evolutionary movement,
i. e., that for the most part organic structures and functions
possess their present characteristics by virtue of the efficiency
with which they fit into the extant conditions of life broadly
designated the environment. With this conception in mind he

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 69

proceeds to attempt some understanding of the manner in which
the psychical contributes to the furtherance of the sum total of
organic activities, not alone the psychical in its entirety, but
especially the psychical in its particularities — mind as judging,
mind as feeling, etc.

This is the point of view which instantly brings the psychol-
ogist cheek by jowl with the general biologist. It is the pre-
supposition of every philosophy save that of outright ontological
materialism that mind plays the stellar role in all the environ-
mental adaptations of animals which possess it. But this per-
suasion has generally occupied the position of an innocuous
truism or at best a jejune postulate, rather than that of a
problem requiring, or permitting, serious scientific treatment.
At all events, this was formerly true.

This older and more complacent attitude toward the matter
is, however, being rapidly displaced by a conviction of the need
for light on the exact character of the accommodatory service
represented by the various great modes of conscious expression.
Such an effort if successful would not only broaden the founda-
tions for biological appreciation of the intimate nature of accom-
modatory process, it would also immensely enhance the psychol-
ogist's interest in the exact portrayal of conscious life. It is of
course the latter consideration which lends importance to the
matter from our point of view. Moreover, not a few practical
consequences of value may be expected to flow from this at-
tempt, if it achieves even a measurable degree of success.
Pedagogy and mental hygiene both await the quickening and
guiding counsel which can only come from a psychology of this
stripe. For their purposes a strictly structural psychology is as
sterile in theory as teachers and psychiatrists have found it in
practice.

As a concrete example of the transfer of attention from the
more general phases of consciousness as accommodatory ac-
tivity to the particularistic features of the case may be men-
tioned the rejuvenation of interest in the quasi-biological field
which we designate animal psychology. This movement is
surely among the most pregnant with which we meet in our
own generation. Its problems are in no sense of the merely

70 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

theoretical and speculative kind, although, like all scientific
endeavor, it possesses an intellectual and methodological back-
ground on which such problems loom large. But the frontier
upon which it is pushing forward its explorations is a region of
definite, concrete fact, tangled and confused and often most dif-
ficult of access, but nevertheless a region of fact, accessible like
all other facts to persistent and intelligent interrogation.

That many of the most fruitful researches in this field have
been achievements of men nominally biologists rather than
psychologists in no wise affects the merits of the case. A
similar situation exists in the experimental psychology of sen-
sation where not a little of the best work has been accomplished
by scientists not primarily known as psychologists.

It seems hardly too much to say that the empirical concep-
tions of the consciousness of the lower animals have undergone
a radical alteration in the past few years by virtue of the studies
in comparative psychology. The splendid investigations of the
mechanism of instinct, of the facts and methods of animal
orientation, of the scope and character of the several sense
processes, of the capabilities of education and the range of
selective accommodatory capacities in the animal kingdom,
these and dozens of other similar problems have received for
the first time drastic scientific examination, experimental in
character wherever possible, observational elsewhere, but ob-
servational in the spirit of conservative non-anthropomorphism
as earlier observations almost never were. In most cases they
have to be sure but shown the way to further and more precise
knowledge, yet there can be but little question that the trail
which they have blazed has success at its farther end.

One may speak almost as hopefully of human genetic psy-
chology which has been carried on so profitably in our own
country. As so often in psychology, the great desideratum
here, is the completion of adequate methods which will insure
really stable scientific results. But already our general psy-
chological theory has been vitalized and broadened by the
results of the genetic methods thus far elaborated. These
studies constantly emphasize for us the necessity of getting the
longitudinal rather than the transverse view of life phenomena

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY >Jl

and they keep immediately in our field of vision the basic sig-
nificance of growth in menta.1 process. Nowhere is the differ-^
ence more flagrant between a functional psychology and the
more literal minded type of structural psychology. One has
only to compare with the better contemporary studies some of
the pioneer work in this field, conceived in the more static and
structuralistic manner, as Preyer's for example was, to feel at
oncei; the difference and the immensely greater significance
both for theory and for practice which issues from the func-
tional and longitudinal descriptions.

The assertions which we have permitted ourselves about
genetic psychology are equally applicable to pathological psy-
chology. The technique of scientific investigation is in the
nature of the case often different in this field of work from that
characteristic of the other ranges of psychological research.
But the attitude of the investigator is distinctly functionalistic.
His aim is one of a thoroughly vital and generally practical
kind leading him to emphasize precisely those considerations
which our analysis of the main aspects of functional psychology
disclose as the goal of its peculiar ambitions.

It is no purpose of mine to submerge by sheer tour de force
the individuality of these various scientific interests just men-
tioned in the regnant personality of a functional psychology.
But I am firmly convinced that the spirit which gives them
birth is the spirit which in the realms of general psychological
theory bears the name functionalism. I believe, therefore,
that their ultimate fate is certain, still I have no wish to accel-
erate their translation against their will, nor to inflict upon them
a label which they may find odious.

It should be said, however, in passing, that even on the side
of general theory and methodological conceptions, recent de-
velopments have been fruitful and significant. One at least
of these deserves mention.

We find nowadays both psychologists and biologists who
treat consciousness as substantially synonymous with adaptive
reactions to novel ^situations. In the writings of earlier authori-
ties it is often implied that accommodatory activities may be
purely physiological and non-psychical in character. From

72 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

this view-point the mental type of accommodatory act super-
venes on certain occasions and at certain stages in organic
development, but it is no indispensable feature of the accom-
modatory process.1

It seems a trifle strange when one considers how long the
fundamental conception involved in this theory has been familiar
and accepted psychological doctrine that its full implication
should have been so reluctantly recognized.2 If one takes the
position now held by all psychologists of repute, so far as I am
aware, that consciousness is constantly at work building up
habits out of coordinations imperfectly under control ; and that
as speedily as control is gained the mental direction tends to
subside and give way to a condition approximating physiological
automatism, it is only a step to carry the inference forward that
consciousness immanently considered is j>er se accommodation
to the novel. Whether conscious processes have been the pre-
cursors of our present instinctive equipment depends on facts of
heredity upon which a layman may hardly speak. But many
of our leaders answer strongly in the affirmative, and such an
answer evidently harmonizes with the general view now under
discussion.

To be sure the further assertion that no real organic accom-
modation to the novel ever occurs, save in the form that involves
consciousness, requires for its foundation a wide range of obser-
vation and a penetrating analysis of the various criteria of men-
tality. But this is certainly a common belief among biologists
to-day. S*4pf;tiY«* variation of response^) stimulation is the
ordinary external sign j^ndicative_of^conscious_action7 Statei
otherwise, consciousness discloses the form taken on by primary
accommodatory process.

1 At this point there is obviously a possible ambiguity in the use of the term
accommodatory. Any physiologically adequate process may be described as
accommodatory. Respiration, for example, might be so designated. Clearly
one needs a special term to designate accommodation to the novel, for this is
the field of conscious activity. Of course if the contention be granted for
which the view now under consideration stands, this could be called conscious
accommodation and it would be understood forthwith that such accommodation
was to the novel.

2 Cf. MacDougal's striking papers in Mind, 1898, entitled ' Contribution
toward an Improvement in Psychological Method.'

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 73

It is not unnatural perhaps that the frequent disposition of
the functional psychologist to sigh after the flesh-pots of biology
should kindle the fire of those consecrated to the cause of a
pure psychology and philosophy freed from the contaminating
influence of natural science. As a matter of fact, alarms have
been repeatedly sounded and the faithful called to subdue
mutiny. But the purpose of the functional psychologist has
never been, so far as I am aware, to scuttle the psychological
craft for the benefit of biology. Quite the contrary. Psychol-
ogy is still for a time at least to steer her own untroubled course.
She is at most borrowing a well-tested compass which biology
is willing to lend and she hopes by its aid to make her ports
more speedily and more surely. If in use it prove treacherous
and unreliable, it will of course go overboard.

This broad biological ideal of functional psychology of
which we have been speaking may be phrased with a slight
shift of emphasis by connecting it with the problem of discover-
ing the fundamental utilities of consciousness. If mental proc-
ess is of real value to its possessor in the life and world which
we know, it must perforce be by virtue of something which it
does that otherwise is not accomplished. Now life and world
are complex and it seems altogether improbable that conscious-
ness should express its utility in one and only one way. As a
matter of fact, every surface indication points in the other direc-
tion. It may be possible merely as a matter of expression ton
speak of mind as in general contributing to organic adjustment'/
to environment. But the actual contributions will take place in
many ways and by multitudinous varieties of conscious process.
The functionalist's problem then is to determine if possible the
great types of these processes in so far as the utilities which they
present lend themselves to classification.

The search after the various utilitarian aspects of mental
process is at once suggestive and disappointing. It is on the
one hand illuminating by virtue of the strong relief into which
it throws the fundamental resemblances of processes often unduly
severed in psychological analysis. Memory and imagination,
for example, are often treated in a way designed to emphasize
their divergences almost to the exclusion of their functional

74 JAMES ROWLAND AN CELL

similarities. They are of course functionally but variants on a
single and basal type of control. An austere structuralism in
particular is inevitably disposed to magnify differences and in
consequence under its hands mental life tends to fall apart ; and
when put together again it generally seems to have lost some-
thing of its verve and vivacity. It appears stiff and rigid and
corpse-like. It lacks the vital spark. Functionalism tends just
as inevitably to bring mental phenomena together, to show them
focalized in actual vital service. The professional psychol-
ogist, calloused by long apprenticeship, may not feel this dis-
tinction to be scientifically important. But to the young student
the functionalistic stress upon community of service is of im-
mense value in clarifying the intricacies of mental organization.
On the other hand the search of which we were speaking is dis-
appointing perhaps in the paucity of the basic modes in which
these conscious utilities are realized.

W Ultimately all the utilities are possibly reducible to selective
(/accommodation. In the execution of the accommodatory activ-
ity the instincts represent the racially hereditary utilities, many
of which are under the extant conditions of life extremely anom-
alous in their, value. The sensory-algedonic-motor phenomena
represent the immediate short circuit unreflective forms of select-
ive response. Whereas the ideational-algedonic-motor series at
its several levels represents the long circuit response under the
influence of the mediating effects of previous experience. This
experience serves either to inhibit the propulsive power intrinsic
to the stimulus, or to reinforce this power by adding to it its
own dynamic tendencies. This last variety of action is the
peculiarly human form of mediated control. On its lowest
stages, genetically speaking, it merges with the purely imme-
diate algedonic type of response. All the other familiar psy-
chological processes are subordinate to one or more of these
groups. Conception, judgment, reasoning, emotion, desire,
aversion, volition, etc., simply designate special varieties in
which these generic forms appear.

In facing the problem of classifying functions we may well
turn for a moment to the experience of biologists for suggestions.
It is to be remarked at once that the significance of function as

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 75

a basis for biological classification varies greatly in different
parts of the biological field. Among the more complex animal
organisms, for example, function, as compared with structure,
affords a relatively precarious basis of classification, since very
divergent structures may subserve identical functions. More-
over, the functions merely as such often fail to indicate with the
definiteness characteristic of the anatomical structure the genetic
relations involved in the maturing of a form. But in the study
of the lower orders of life such as the bacteria, where structural
variations are so largely to seek, the functional chemico-physio-
logical reactions are of the utmost significance for classificatory
purposes. In the botanical field generally there has of late
been an increasing disposition to employ functional similarity
and difference for the illumination of plant relationships.
Indeed, this transition from a purely taxonomic and morpho-
logical point of view to a physiological and functional point of
view is the striking feature of recent progress in botanical theory.

The ultimate value of a psychological classification based on ;
functions, if interpreted in the light of these considerations,
would apparently hinge on one's conception of the analogy
between consciousness and undifferentiated protoplasm. In the
measure in which consciousness is immanently unstable and
variable, one might anticipate that a functional classification
would be more significant and penetrating than one based upon
any supposedly structural foundation. But the analogy on
which this inference rests is perhaps too insecure to permit a
serious conclusion to be drawn from it. In any event it is to
be said that functions as such seem to be the most stable char-
acters in the biological field. They extend in a practically
unbroken front from the lowest to the highest levels of life —
allowing for a possible protest in certain quarters against includ-
ing consciousness in this list. That they are not everywhere
so useful as structures for classificatory purposes reflects on the
aims of classification, not on the fundamental and relatively fixed
character of functions.

A survey of current usage discloses two general types of
functional categories. Of these, the one is in spirit and purpose
dominantly physiological. It groups all the forms of life func-

76 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

tions, whether animal or vegetable in manifestation, under the
four headings of assimilation, reproduction, motion and sensi-
bility. In such a schema assimilation is made to include diges-
tion, circulation, respiration, secretion, and excretion, while
motion in the sense here intended applies primarily to those
forms of movement which enable the organism to migrate from
place to place and thus accommodate itself to the exigencies of
local conditions.

Another group of categories which concerns a deeper and
more general level of biological interpretations is given by
such terms as selection, adaptation, variation, accommodation,
heredity, etc. These are categories of a primarily functional
sort for they apply in a large sense to modes of behavior.
Indeed, behavior may be said to be itself the most inclusive of
these categories. But as compared with the members of the
first group they have to do with the general trend of organic
development and not with the specific physiological processes
which may be concerned in any special case. This does not
mean that a specific physiological setting cannot sometime be
given these problems ; but it does mean that at present the gaps
in our knowledge of these matters are generally too large to be
spanned with certainty.

Now it would appear that such general categories as selec-
tion and accommodation have a perfectly appropriate application
to mental process. Indeed, as we have already remarked, not
a few of our modern scientists regard the psychical as precisely
synonymous with the selective — accommodatory activity as
this appears in the life history of the individual ; and we have,
moreover, already pointed out certain limitations and certain
merits of these categories when applied to the classification of
mental phenomena. We have found them serving to magnify
a certain community of organic service in the most various forms
of psychical activity, but we have also found them rather too
vague and general to afford a desirable scientific detail.

If on the other hand, we examine the familiar physiological
functions with reference to their possible relations to mental
functions, we are at once struck by certain similarities 'and
certain disparities between the two. There are some mental

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 77

operations which have repeatedly been designated as assimi-
lative. So familiar is this characterization and so commonly
accepted that we may without undue hesitation assume its appro-
priateness and relevancy. Under the physiological aspects of
assimilation are commonly ranged such processes as respiration,
circulation, secretion, excretion etc. How far these processes
find analogies in mental action is not altogether clear. Many
of our psychologists are fond of describing * the stream of con-
sciousness' and in so far as the metaphor is justifiable one may
naturally think of the physiological circulation as its counter-
part. But there are perhaps as many differences as there are
resemblances between the two. Certainly the cyclical char-
acter of the circulation of the blood finds no precise analogue
in the flow of psychical phenomena. Similarly the periodicity
of respiration may suggest the fluctuation of attention, the storing
of mental dispositions may be connected with secretion, the
casting off of mental irrelevancies may be likened to excretion,
etc. But these relations are so largely metaphorical in char-
acter that one can hardly assign them a larger consequence
than springs from such amusement as they may afford.

It would perhaps be difficult to disprove the theory that re-
production can be regarded as a mental category quite as truly
as a physiological category, not only in the sense in which one
mind can be conceived as the parent of other minds, but also in
the familiar sense in which the mind is thought of as recreating
its own ideas from time to time.

Yet granting all this, it may safely be said that however
numerous the analogies connecting the mental functions with the
physiological functions may be, we are not at present in a posi-
tion to take advantage of them in any very serious way. Motion
is by common consent applicable to the physiological alone and
sensibility is in the intent of the classification appropriate to the
psychical alone. The basal categories utilized by physiologists
seem therefore to render us but little assistance. This view is
vigorously maintained by many modern writers, but generally
on a priori grounds.

If we examine the historically conspicuous classifications of
mental process made by psychologists, we discover, as was

78 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

pointed out in an earlier paragraph, that they are frequently
suggestive of definitely functional conceptions. The Aristotel-
ian divisions, the so-called Kantian divisions, the divisions into
higher and lower powers characteristic of the faculty psycholo-
gists (and many others not commonly ranked as such), and Bren-
tano's and Stout's classifications, to mention no more, are all de-
cidedly based on dynamic and functionalistic considerations. On
the other hand, not a few of our contemporary authorities, notably
Wundt, classify their material under the more statical and me-
chanical categories — * elements and compounds.'

Professor Warren has recently suggested an interesting clas-
sification in which he proposes as the fundamental functional
categories the following five : Sensibility, which gives us the
sensory continuum ; modification, which connotes our ability to
become aware of intensive modifications in the continuum ; Dif-
ferentiation, which covers our capacity to experience qualitative
differences ; association, which does not require interpretation,
and discrimination, which refers to our ability to perform defi-
nite acts of rational apprehension and to articulate purposes.1
These functions taken together will, he alleges, account for all
forms of consciousness and they are not derivatives from phe-
nomena of the material world which he regards as outside the
pale. I do not propose at this time to offer any detailed criti-
cism of Professor Warren's valuable paper. Indeed, until his
views are more fully elaborated, extended criticism would be
premature.

One distinction, however, to which he calls incidental atten-
tion as a biological distinction, is formulated in an admirable
statement with which I fully agree. It presents a sort of func-
tional analysis which seems to me at once pregnant and sound.
He speaks of the three-fold division of cognition, affection and
process as intrinsically biological in character and

corresponding broadly to the differences among the external,
the systemic and the kinaesthetic senses ; the first reporting to
us the outer world, the second our own general organic tone
and the third supplying experiences of our motor activity by
means of which voluntary control is developed.

1 ' The Fundamental Functions of Consciousness,' Psychological Bulletin,
1906, p. 217.

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 79

Particularly significant is his remark that the * fundamental
functions of consciousness and the kinds of experience ' are
something quite distinct from one another. It is because he
believes that the * rise of any particular experience and its make-
up as a datum of consciousness can be fufly~cTescribed in termsl
of certain mental functions ' that he feels it possible to elaborate I
an independent natural science of psychology free from neuro-
logical, physiological and biological considerations. It is not
clear that this conclusion flows from Professor Warren's premises
any more exclusively than from the premises of the so-called
structuralist's point of view. Nor is there any strictly logical
impracticality in carrying out the program of such a pure psy-
chology. But it is fair to emphasize the extremely pale, atten-
uated and abstract character of such a science as compared with
one which should report upon conscious processes as they are
really found amid the heat and battle of the actual mind-body
life. It may be a pure science, .but it is surely purity bought
at a great price — /. e., truth to life.

All pure science must abstract in a measure from the actual
circumstances of life, but in the so-called exact sciences the
abstraction is always away from the irrelevant and disturbing.
The type of abstraction which Professor Warren champions, in
common with many other distinguished scholars, is one which
appeals to me as an abstracting away from the more significant,
with the consequent fixation of attention upon the relatively less
important.

It is a commonplace of logic that classification is intrinsically
teleological and that the merits of any special classification,
assuming that it does not distort or misrepresent the facts, is to
be tested by the success with which it meets* the necessities for
which it was devised. If one desires to emphasize the taxo-
nomic and morphological features of mentality, no doubt some
such division as Wundt employs, using the rubrics elements
and compounds, is preferable. If one wishes primarily to
emphasize qualitative similarities and dissimilarities, the Kan-
tian principle of irreducibility is judicious ; and if one wishes to
bring out the dynamic character of consciousness, such a
principle as Brentano's, based on the mode in which conscious-

So JAMES ROWLAND AN G ELL

ness refers to its object, is effective. If functional psychology
really possesses several distinct zones of interest, it is quite con-
ceivable that different classifications may be necessary to fulfil
most satisfactorily the demands in these several fields. In any
case we must forego further discussion of the matter at this point
and return to offer our description of the third of the main sub-
divisions of the functional problem.

III.

The third conception which I distinguish is often in practice
merged with the second, but it involves stress upon a problem
logically prior perhaps to the problem raised there and so war-
rants separate mention. Functional psychology, it is often
alleged, is in reality a form of psychophysics. To be sure, its
aims and ideals are not explicitly quantitative in the manner
characteristic of that science as commonly understood. But it
finds its major interest in determining the relations to one another
of the physical and mental portions of the organism.

It is undoubtedly true that many of those who write under
functional prepossessions are wont to introduce frequent refer-
ences to the physiological processes which accompany or con-
dition mental life. Moreover, certain followers of this faith are
prone to declare forthwith that psychology is simply a branch of
biology and that we are in consequence entitled, if not indeed
obliged, to make use where possible of biological materials.
But without committing ourselves to so extreme a position as
this, a mere glance at one familiar region of psychological pro-
cedure will disclose the leanings of psychology in this direction.

The psychology of volition affords an excellent illustration
of the necessity with which descriptions of mental process
eventuate in physiological or biological considerations. If one
take the conventional analysis of a voluntary act drawn from
some one or other of the experiences of adult life, the descrip-
tions offered generally portray ideational activities of an antici-
patory and deliberative character which serve to initiate imme-
diately or remotely certain relevant expressive movements.
Without the execution of the movements the ideational per-
formances would be as futile as the tinkling cymbals of Scrip-

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY Si

ture. To be sure, many of our psychologists protest themselves
wholly unable to suggest why or how such muscular movements
are brought to pass. But the fact of their occurrence or of their
fundamental import for any theory of mental life in which con-
sciousness is other than an epiphenomenon, is not questioned.

Moreover, if one considers the usual accounts of the onto-
genesis of human volitional acts one is again confronted with
intrinsically physiological data in which reflexes, automatic and
instinctive acts are much in evidence. Whatever the possibil-
ities, then, of an expurgated edition of the psychology of voli-
tion from which should be blotted out all reference to contam-
inating physiological factors, the actual practice of our repre-
sentative psychologists is quite otherwise, and upon their
showing volition cannot be understood either as regards its
origin or its outcome without constant and overt reference to
these factors. It would be a labor of supererrogation to go on
and make clear the same doctrine as it applies to the psychology
of the more recondite of the cognitive processes ; so intimate is
the relation between cognition and volition in modern psycho-
logical theory that we may well stand excused from carrying
out in detail the obvious inferences from the situation we have
just described.

Now if someone could but devise a method for handling the
mind-body relationships which would not when published im-
mediately create cyclonic disturbances in the philosophical at-
mosphere, it seems improbable that this disposition of the func-
tional psychologist to inject physiology into his cosmos would
cause comment and much less criticism. But even parallelism,
that most insipid, pale and passionless of all the inventions be-
gotten by the mind of man to accomplish this end, has largely
failed of its pacific purpose. It is no wonder, therefore, that
the more rugged creeds with positive programs to offer and a
stock of red corpuscles to invest in their propagation should also
have failed of universal favor.

This disposition to go over into the physiological for certain
portions of psychological doctrine is represented in an interest-
ing way by the frequent tendency of structural psychologists to
find explanation in psychology substantially equivalent to

82 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

physiological explanation.1 Professor Titchener's recent work
on Quantitative Psychology represents this position very frankly.
It is cited here with no intent to comment disparagingly upon
the consistency of the structuralist position, but simply to indi-
cate the wide-spread feeling of necessity at certain stages of
psychological development for resort to physiological considera-
tions.

Such a functional psychology as I have been presenting
would be entirely reconcilable with Miss Calkins' * psychology
of selves ' (so ably set forth by her in her presidential address
last year) were it not for her extreme scientific conservatism in
refusing to allow the self to have a body, save as a kind of
conventional biological ornament. The real psychological self,
as I understand her, is pure disembodied spirit — an admirable
thing of good religious and philosophic ancestry, but surely not
the thing with which we actually get through this vale of tears
and not a thing before which psychology is under any obliga-
tion to kotow.2

It is not clear that the functional psychologist because of his
\

JCf. Miinsterberg's striking pronunciamento to this effect in his paper
entitled ' Psychological Atomism,' PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, 1900, p. i. The same
doctrine is incorporated in his ' Grundziige der Psychologic ' and we await with
interest the completion of that task in order to discover the characteristic features
of a psychology consistently built on these foundations.

2 Miss Calkins' views on this matter, which are shared by many of our lead-
ing psychologists, have been lucidly expounded on several papers [particularly
' Der doppelte Standpunkt in der Psychologic,' and a ' Reconciliation between
Structural and Functional Psychology,' PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, 1906, p. 61], to
say nothing of their embodiment in her widely quoted Introduction to Psy-
chology. She has done yeoman service in emphasizing the fundamental sig-
nificance of the 'self ' consciousness for all psychological doctrine and I am in
entire sympathy with her insistence on this fact. But she seems to me unduly
to circumscribe the legitimate scope of this ' self. ' Possibly I misinterpret her
meaning, but the following sentences together with the procedure in her Intro-
duction to Psychology seem to justify me. "By self as fundamental fact of
psychology is not meant . . . the psychophysical organism, . . . the objection
is, very briefly, that the doctrine belongs not to psychology at all, but to
biology," PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, 1906, p. 66. After which reference is made
to Professor Baldwin's Development and Evolution as a non-psychological
treatise. Such a settlement of the issue is easy and logically consistent. But
does it not leave us with a gulf set between the self as mind and the self as
body, for the crossing of which we are forthwith obliged to expend much
needless energy, as the gulf is of our own inventing?

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 83

disposition to magnify the significance in practice of the mind-
body relationships is thereby committed to any special theory
of the character of these relationships, save as was said a
moment since, that negatively he must seemingly of necessity
set his face against any epiphenomenalist view. He mightcj
ceivably be an interactionist, or a parallelist or even an advocate
of^ome^wholly r>nTwrrrrr-ereggT As a matter ot fact certain of
our most ardent functionalists not only cherish highly definite
articles of faith as regards this issue, they would even go so far
as to test functional orthodoxy by the acceptance of these tenets.
This is to them the most momentous part of their functionalism,
their holy of holies. It would display needless temerity to at-
tempt within the limitations of this occasion a formulation of
doctrine wholly acceptable to all concerned. But I shall venture
a brief reference to such doctrine in the effort to bring out
certain of its essentials.

The position to which I refer regards the mind-body relation
as capable of treatment in psychology as a methodological dis-
tinction rather than a metaphysically existential one. Certain
of its expounders arrive at their view by means of an analysis
of the genetic conditions under which the mind-body differen-
tiation first makes itself felt in the experience of the individual.1
This procedure clearly involves a direct frontal attack on the
problem.

Others attain the position by flank movement, emphasizing
to begin with the insoluble contradictions with which one is met
when the distinction is treated as resting on existential differ-
ences in the primordial elements of the cosmos.2 Both methods
of approach lead to the same goal, however, t. e.9 the convic-
tion that the distinction has no existence on the genetically
lower and more naif stages of experience. It only comes to
light on a relatively reflective level and it must then be treated

1 The most striking attempt of this kind with which I am acquainted is
Professor Baldwin's paper entitled ' Mind and Body from the Genetic Point of
View,' PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, 1903, p. 225.

2 Cf. on this general issue Bawden, ' Functional View of the Relation
Between the Psychical and the Physical,' Philosophical Review, 1902, [XL], p.
474, and ' Methodological Implications of the Mind-body Controversy,' Psycho-
logical Bulletin, 1906, p. 321.

84 JAMES ROWLAND AN CELL

as instrumental if one would avoid paralogisms, antinomies and
a host of other metaphysical nightmares. Moreover, in dealing
with psychological problems this view entitles one to reject as
at least temporarily irrelevant the question whether mind causes
changes in neural action and conversely. The previous ques-
tion is raised by defenders of this type of doctrine if one insists
on having such a query answered. They invite you to trace
the lineage of your idea of causality, insisting that such a
searching of one's intellectual reins will always disclose the
inappropriateness of the inquiry as formulated above. They
urge further that the profitable and significant thing is to seek
for a more exact appreciation of the precise conditions under
which consciousness is in evidence and the conditions under
which it retires in favor of the more exclusively physiological.
Such knowledge so far as it can be obtained is on a level with
all scientific and practical information. It states the circum-
stances under which certain sorts of results will appear.

One's view of this functionalistic metaphysics is almost inev-
itably colored by current philosophical discussion as to the essen-
tial nature of consciousness. David Hume has been accused
of destroying the reality of mind chiefly because he exorcised
from it relationships of various kinds. If it be urged, as has
so often been done, that Hume was guilty of pouring out the
baby with the bath, the modern philosopher makes good the
disaster not only by pouring in again both baby and bath, but
by maintaining that baby and bath, mind and relations, are sub-
stantially one.1 Nor is this unity secured after the manner

1 To the simple-minded psychologist this saying, in which many authors
indulge, that consciousness is merely a relation seems a trifle dark. The psy-
chologist has no natural prejudice against relation, but in this special case he
is as a rule given too little information concerning the terms between which
this relation subsists. Possibly his vision has been darkened by a perverse logic,
but relations imply termini in his usual modes of thought and before assenting
too unreservedly to the ' relation ' philosophy of consciousness, he urges a
fuller illumination as to the character and status of these supporting end terms.

The following well-known papers will introduce the uninitiated, if any such
there be, into the thick of the battle. A complete bibliography would probably
monopolize this issue of the REVIEW. James, ' Does Consciousness Exist ? '
Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods, I., p. 477. Wood-
bridge, ' Nature of Consciousness,' in the same Journal, II., p. 119. Also Gar-
man, ' Memorial Volume,' p. 137. Perry, ' Conceptions and Misconceptions of

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 85

prescribed by the good Bishop Berkeley. At all events the
metaphysicians to whom I refer are not fond of being called
idealists. But the psychological functionalist who emphasizes
the instrumental nature of the mind-body distinction and the
metaphysician who regards mind as a relation are following
roads which are at least parallel to one another if not actually
convergent.

Whether or not one sympathizes with the views of that wing
of the functionalist party to which our attention has just been
directed it certainly seems a trifle unfair to cast up the mind-body
difficulty in the teeth of the functionalist as such when on log-
ical grounds he is no more guilty than any of his psychological
neighbors. No courageous psychology of volition is possible
which does not squarely face the mind-body problem, and in
point of fact every important description of mental life contains
doctrine of one kind or another upon this matter. A literally
pure psychology of volition would be a sort of hanging-garden
of Babylon, marvelous but inaccessible to psychologists of ter-
restrial habit. The functionalist is a greater sinner than others
only in so far as he finds necessary and profitable a more con-
stant insistence upon the translation of mental process into phy-
siological process and conversely.

IV.

If we now bring together the several conceptions of which
mention has been made it will be easy to show them converging
upon a common point. We have to consider (i) functionalism
conceived as the psychology of mental operations in contrast to
the psychology of mental elements ; or, expressed otherwise,
the psychology of the how and why of consciousness as dis-
tinguished from the psychology of the what of consciousness.
We have (2) the functionalism which deals with the problem of
mind conceived as primarily engaged in mediating between the
environment and the needs of the organism. This is the psy-
chology of the fundamental utilities of consciousness ; (3) and

Consciousness,' PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, 1904, XI., p. 282. Bush, 'An Empi-
rical Definition of Consciousness,' Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scien-
tific Methods, II., p. 561. Stratton, ' Difference Between Mental and Physical,'
Psychological Bulletin, 1906, p. i. * Character of Consciousness,' Ibid., p. 117.

86 JAMES ROWLAND AN CELL

lastly we have functionalism described as psychophysical psy-
chology, that is the psychology which constantly recognizes and
insists upon the essential significance of the mind-body relation-
ship for any just and comprehensive appreciation of mental life
itself.

The second and third delineations of functional psychology
are rather obviously correlated with each other. No descrip-
tion of the actual circumstances attending the participation of
mind in the accommodatory activities of the organism could be
other than a mere empty schematism without making reference
to the manner in which mental processes eventuate in motor
phenomena of the physiological organism. The overt accom-
modatory act is, I take it, always sooner or later a muscular
movement. But this fact being admitted, there is nothing for
it, if one will describe accommodatory processes, but to recog-
nize the mind-body relations and in some way give expression
to their practical significance. It is only in this regard, as was
indicated a few lines above, that the functionalist departs a trifle
in his practice and a trifle more in his theory from the rank and
file of his colleagues.

The effort to follow the lead of the natural sciences and
delimit somewhat rigorously — albeit artificially — a field of in-
quiry, in this case consciousness conceived as an independent
realm, has led in psychology to a deal of excellent work and to
the uncovering of much hidden truth. So far as this proced-
ure has resulted in a focusing of scientific attention and endeavor
on a relatively narrow range of problems the result has more
than justified the means. And the functionalist by no means
holds that the limit of profitable research has been reached along
these lines. But he is disposed to urge in season and out that
we must not forget the arbitrary and self-imposed nature of the
boundaries within which we toil when we try to eschew all ex-
plicit reference to the physical and physiological. To overlook
this fact is to substitute a psychology under injunction for a psy-
chology under free jurisdiction. He also urges with vigor and
enthusiasm that a new illumination of this preempted field can
be gained by envisaging it more broadly, looking at it as it ap-
pears when taken in perspective with its neighboring territory.

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 87

And if it be objected that such an inquiry however interesting
and advantageous is at least not psychology, he can only reply ;
psychology is what we make it, and if the correct understand-
ing of mental phenomena involves our delving in regions which
are not at first glance properly mental, what recks it, provided
only that we are nowhere guilty of untrustworthy and unveri-
fiable procedure, and that we return loaded with the booty for
which we set out, and by means of which we can the better
solve our problem?

In its more basal philosophy this last conception is of course
intimately allied to those appraisals of mind which emphasize
its dominantly social characteristics, its rise out of social circum-
stances and the pervasively social nature of its constitutive prin-
ciples. In our previous intimations of this standpoint we have
not distinguished sharply between the physical and the social
aspect of environment. The adaptive activities of mind are
very largely of the distinctly social type. But this does not in
any way jeopardize the genuineness of the connection upon
which we have been insisting between the psychophysical
aspects of a functional psychology and its environmental adap-
tive aspects.

It remains then to point out in what manner the conception
of functionalism as concerned with the basal operations of mind
is to be correlated with the other two conceptions just under dis-
cussion. The simplest view to take of the relations involved
would apparently be such as would regard the first as an essen-
tial propaedeutic to the other two. Certainly if we are intent
upon discerning the exact manner in which mental process
contributes to accommodatory efficiency, it is natural to begin
our undertaking by determining what are the primordial forms

Expression peculiar to mind. However plausible in theory
this'conc'eplioh of the intrinsic logical relations of these several
forms of functional psychology, in practice it is extremely diffi-
cult wholly to sever them from one another.

Again like the biological accommodatory view the psycho-
physical view of functional psychology involves as a rational
presupposition some acquaintance with mental processes as
these appear to reflective consciousness. The intelligent corre-

88 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

lation in a practical way of physiological and mental operations
evidently involves a preliminary knowledge of the conspicuous
differentiations both on the side of conscious function and on
the side of physiological function.

In view of the considerations of the last few paragraphs it
does not seem fanciful nor forced to urge that these various
theories of the problem of funtional psychology really converge
upon one another, however divergent may be the introductory
investigations peculiar to each of the several ideals. Possibly
the conception that the fundamental problem of the functionalist
is one of determining just how mind participates in accommo-
datory reactions, is more nearly inclusive than either of the
others, and so may be chosen to stand for the group. But if
this vicarious duty is assigned to it, it must be on clear terms
of remembrance that the other phases of the problem are
equally real and equally necessary. Indeed the three things
hang together as integral parts of a common program.

I The functionalist's most intimate persuasion leads him to re-
gard consciousness as primarily and intrinsically a control phe-
nomenon. Just as behavior may be regarded as the most dis-
tinctly basic category of general biology in its functional phase so
controTwould-perhaps serve_as the
functional psychology^ the special forms and differentiations of
consciousness simply constituting particular phases of the gen-
eral process of control. At this point the omnipresent captious
critic will perhaps arise to urge that the knowledge process is
no more truly to be explained in terms of control than is control
to be explained in terms of knowledge. Unquestionably there
is from the point of view of the critic a measure of truth in this
contention. The mechanism of control undoubtedly depends
on the cognitive processes, to say nothing of other factors. But
if one assumes the vitalistic point of view for one's more final
interpretations, if one regards the furtherance of life in breadth
and depth and permanence as an end in itself, and if one
derives his scale of values from a contemplation of the several
contributions toward this end represented by the great types of
vital phenomena, with their apex in the moral, scientific and
aesthetic realms, one must certainly find control a category more

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSYCHOLOGY 89

fundamental than the others offered by psychology. Moreover,
it may be urged against the critic's attitude that even knowledge
itself is built up under the control mechanism represented by
selective attention and apperception. The basic character of
control seems therefore hardly open to challenge.

One incidental merit of the functionalist program deserves a
passing mention. This is the one method of approach to the
problem with which I am acquainted that offers a reasonable
and cogent account of the rise of reflective consciousness and
its significance as manifested in the various philosophical disci-
plines. From the vantage point of the functionalist position
logic and ethics, for instance, are no longer mere disconnected
items in the world of mind. They take their place with all the
inevitableness of organic organization in the general system of
control, which requires for the expression of its immanent mean-
ing as psychic a theoretical vindication of its own inner princi-
ples, its modes of procedure and their results.1 From any other
point of view, so far as I am aware, the several divisions of
philosophical inquiry sustain to one another relations which are
almost purely external and accidental. To the functionalist on
the other hand they are and must be in the nature of the case
consanguineous and vitally connected. It is at the point, for
example, where the good, the beautiful and the true have bear-
ing on the efficacy of accommodatory activity that the issues of
the normative philosophical sciences become relevant. If good
action has no significance for the enriching and enlarging of
life, the contention I urge is futile, and similarly as regards
beauty and truth. But it is not at present usually maintained
that such is the fact.

These and other similar tendencies of functionalism may
serve to reassure those who fear that in lending itself to bio-
logical influences psychology may lose contact with philosophy

1 An interesting example of the possible developments in this direction is
afforded by Professor G. H. Mead's paper entitled 'Suggestions toward a
Theory of the Philosophical Disciplines,' Philosophical Review, 1900, IX., p. i.
My own paper referred to elsewhere on ' Psychology and Philosophy,' Philo-
sophical Review, 1903, XII., p. 243, contains further illustrative material.

Professor Baldwin's recent volume on genetic logic ['Thought and Things,'
etc., N. Y., 1906] is a striking case of functional psychology evolving into logic.

9°

JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

nd so sacrifice the poise and balance and sanity of outlook
which philosophy undertakes to furnish. The particular brand
of philosophy which is predestined to functionalist favor cannot
of course be confidently predicted in advance. But anything
approaching a complete and permanent divorce of psychology
from philosophy is surely improbable so long as one cultivates
the functionalist faith. Philosophy cannot dictate scientific
method here any more than elsewhere, nor foreordain the special
facts to be discovered. But as an interpreter of the psycholo-
gist's achievements she will always stand higher in the function-
alist's favor than in that of his colleagues of other persuasions,
for she is a more integral and significant part of his scheme of
the cosmos. She may even outgrow under his tutelage that

* valiant inconclusiveness ' of which the last of her long line of
lay critics has just accused her.

- A sketch of the kind we have offered is unhappily likely to
leave on the mind an impression of functional psychology as a
name for a group of genial but vaguer ambitions and good in-
tentions. This, however, is a fault which must be charged to
the artist and to the limitations of time and space under which
he is here working. There is nothing vaguer in the program of
the functionalist when he goes to his work than there is in the
purposes of the psychologist wearing any other livery. He
goes to his laboratory, for example, with just the same resolute
interest to discover new facts and new relationships, with just
the same determination to verify and confirm his previous ob-
servations, as does his colleague who calls himself perhaps a
structuralist. But he looks out upon the surroundings of his
science with a possibly greater sensitiveness to its continuity
with other ranges of human interest and with certainly a more
articulate purpose to see the mind which he analyzes as it actu-
ally is when engaged in the discharge of its vital functions. If
his method tempts him now and then to sacrifice something of
petty exactitude, he is under no obligation to yield, and in any
case he has for his compensation the power which comes from
breadth and sweep of outlook.

So far as he may be expected to develop methods peculiar
to himself — so far, indeed, as in genetic and comparative psy-

PROVINCE OF FUNCTIONAL PSTCHOLOGY 91

chology, for example, he has already developed such — they
will not necessarily be iconoclastic and revolutionary, nor such
as flout the methods already devised and established on a slightly
different foundation. They will be distinctly complementary to
all that is solid in these. Nor is it in any way essential that
the term functionalism should cling to this new-old movement.
It seems at present a convenient term, but there is nothing sacro-
sanct about it, and the moment it takes unto itself the pretense
of scientific finality its doom will be sealed. It means to-day a
broad and flexible and organic point of view in psychology.
The moment it becomes dogmatic and narrow its spirit will
have passed and undoubtedly some worthier successor will fill
its place.

DEFINITION AND ANALYSIS OF THE CON-
SCIOUSNESS OF VALUE. (II.)

BY PROFESSOR WILBUR M. URBAN,
Trinity College.

I.

The analyses of the preceding paper have led to a demarca-
tion of that type or class of meanings which are described as
worths or values. Beginning with the preliminary definition of
worth as the affective-volitional meaning of the object for the
subject, we advanced by successive stages of analysis to the
more specific statement that the worth experience is always a
feeling attitude which presupposes the actualization of some
conative disposition by acts of presumption, judgment or assump-
tion (implicit and explicit). This definition obviously involves
a certain theory of the nature of feeling and of its relation to
conation (desire and volition). For one thing, the broader use
of the term feeling involves a relative distinction between feel-
ing attitude and affective tone of sensation, a distinction which
has in fact been insisted upon, and it also leads to the view that
feeling, as worth feeling, has appreciative distinctions not
found in passive affection. To this theory, of the nature of
feeling, and the more abstract psychological analyses which it
involves, we must turn our attention later ; for the present (and
indeed as a necessary preliminary of this later study) our prob-
lem is the further development of the appreciative distinctions
of feeling.

Earlier in our study a distinction was made between the * ap-
preciative ' and * reality ' (including existence -) meanings of
worth predicates. Starting with the analysis of the latter,
we developed the definition of value in terms of its functional
presuppositions. But in the course of that very analysis we
came upon certain appreciative distinctions in feeling (as for
instance in the study of the criteria of Lipps and Kruger) such
as feeling of the personality, breadth and depth of feeling in the

92

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 93

personality, which were taken as descriptive of feelings of value.
Logically this analysis of appreciative descriptions of feeling
should, perhaps, have come first in our own study,1 but the order
of presentation chosen has this advantage, that the critical studies
of the preceding paper have, by their results both positive and
negative, defined the sphere of worth experience, and have
given us the clue to the interpretation of the different qualifica-
tions of feeling which are worth suggestive, that is give rise to
those meanings of objects which we call worth predicates.

These qualifications of feeling are certain aspects of feeling
attitude which are not only appreciable but which may be de-
scribed in terms which convey their meaning. It has already
been pointed out in another connection,2 that the meanings of
feeling attitudes, grouped under the general terms transgredient
and immanental references, are susceptible of communication
and description in their own special terms, no less than the con-
tent which acquires these meanings. In fact, feeling may itself
become the object of both presentation and judgment, and when
it does there arise, or rather become explicit, certain selective
meanings which find their own type of description and their own
media of communication. This description we have called ap-
preciative description. Into the nature of this description — its
relation to the normative sciences on the one hand and to psy-
chological analysis on the other — we cannot here enter. It
will be sufficient to recall that such description always conveys
the meaning of attitudes and fixes the place of a feeling attitude
in a system of possible attitudes toward reality presupposed.
At the center of that system of meanings is the self to which all
these meanings refer, either explicitly or implicitly.

1 In my article : 'Appreciation and Description and the Psychology of
Values,' Philosophical Review, November, 1905, two methodological principles
were developed as guides in the analysis of the consciousness of value. Psy-
chological analysis must take its start from appreciative description and, since
appreciative description conveys functional meaning as well as the content,
psychological description involves the development of the functional presup-
positions of the feeling.

2 In the article referred to above.

94 WILBUR M. URBAN.

II.

A. The worth predicates themselves, as tertiary qualities of
objects, are, in their manifold modifications, appreciative dis-
tinctions arising from differences in the meaning of feelings.
They are projections into the object of distinctions within feel-
ing. The supposition presents itself immediately that these pred-
icates, since they are funded meanings of feeling processes,
correspond directly to fundamental differences in feeling itself,
and that there are as many differences in feeling as there are
worth predicates. Reflection, however, makes clear that appre-
ciative description of objects, while the expression of worth feel-
ings, is not necessarily the appreciative description of those
feelings themselves. These predicates are -what we feel about
the object, not how we feel. We feel beauty, goodness, nobility,
sublimity, obligation, but when we describe how we feel in such
cases a transition has been made to the appreciative description
of the feeling itself. The feeling has been made the object
of presentation and description and it is quite possible that in
this appreciative description of the feeling one of these general
worth predicates may stand for different modifications of feeling
or for several at the same time. Thus the predicate good may,
when applied to an act, have as its equivalent a feeling described
as the tension of obligation, at another the feeling of satisfied
repose. In order to adequately describe the feeling I have when
I call an object sublime it may be necessary to use the terms
elevation, repose, and, if I wish to add to my description quanti-
tative terms, to speak of the depth of the feeling. It will be
apparent then that what is meant by the appreciative distinctions
in primary worth feeling are those descriptions of his feelings
which the subject seeks as equivalents for his worth predicates
applied to objects. The ultimate terms in which such feelings
of simple appreciation are described should give us the funda-
mental modifications of worth feeling.

B. It has been said that there are innumerable nuances of
feeling and in the same breath it has been asserted that all these
differences are reducible to differences in intensity and duration
of a one-dimensional continuum, pleasantness-unpleasantness,

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 95

these differences being due to differences in the sensational,
perceptual, ideal content with which the feeling is connected.
With the first part of this statement we may agree but the second
requires critical examination. The consciousness of the inade-
quacy of this conception of the dimensions of feeling has been
growing recently and the demand for new analysis has arisen
from two distinct quarters, — from the study of the psychology
of worth experience, on the one hand, and from non-appre-
ciative psycho-physical analysis, on the other hand, as illus-
trated in Wundt's three-dimensional theory.

In the case of the * worth psychologists,' with whom we are
in this connection primarily concerned, the logic of this an-
alysis is clear enough. When they turn from the worth pred-
icates of objects to a description of the experiences which de-
termine these predicates, they find the old terminology, intensity
and duration of pleasantness-unpleasantness inadequate for the
reconstruction of this experience. In the analysis of Kruger
which we have already considered, worth feeling (which is dis-
tinguished functionally from pleasure-causation by the fact that
it presupposes conative constants) is distinguished appreciatively
by a new dimension depth and breadth in the personality.
Simmel,1 who likewise makes feeling the worth fundamental,
also finds it necessary to distinguish the aspects of depth and
breadth of feeling from intensity. Another class of analysts,
who hold a voluntaristic theory, find modifications of worth ex-
perience, which cannot be correlated with feeling if feeling be
conceived merely as intensity of pleasantness-unpleasantness.
Brentano2 is compelled to assume quasi-logical dimensions of
acts of preference, to which pleasantness and unpleasantness
are related merely as redundant passive phenomena and more
recently and definitely, Schwartz3 has found it necessary to dis-
tinguish fundamentally between degrees of worth experience,
satisfaction (Sattigung des Gefallen) and intensity of feeling,
and, on the assumption that feeling is passive pleasantness-
unpleasantness, to seek a voluntaristic basis for worth experi-

1 Simmel, Einleitung\in die Moralzvissenschaft.

2 Brentano, Psychologic. Also Ursprung der sittlichen Erkentniss.

3 Schwartz, Psychologic des Willens, Chapter II., also Appendix I.

96 WILBUR M. URBAN.

ence. Despite the differences in theory of the nature of the
worth fundamental, it is clear that these analyses all have in
view the object of doing justice to appreciative distinctions in
worth experience, whatever that may be found to be, in terms of
psychological equivalents.

C. If then we hold to our view already developed, that worth
experience is feeling with certain characteristic presuppositions,
our task is naturally to seek some conception of feeling which
lies between the two views propounded — both of them unwork-
able for worth analysis — the proposition that feeling has in-
numerable modifications, and the view that it is merely intensity
of pleasantness and unpleasantness. Now the key to our pro-
cedure is to be found in the fact that * pleasantness-unpleasant-
ness ' are but one class of terms which may be applied to the
description of the concrete feeling attitude, that there are other
class terms which are equally fundamental for the communi-
cation of the qualitative differences in feeling. In order to
communicate the subjective experience corresponding to the
worth predicate the qualitative differences, pleasantness-unpleas-
antness, are insufficient. And secondly, when this has become
clear, it will also appear that in order to express quantitative
differences in worth feeling it will be necessary to make use of
other conceptions than that of intensity (in its narrower sense)
which has been transferred from sensation to the pleasantness
and unpleasantness which accompanies sensation.

The problem then is — what are the fundamental class terms
for the nuances of feeling corresponding to the tertiary quali-
ties, worth predicates attributed to objects? The answer to this
question would naturally take the direction of a classification
of the appreciative descriptions of feeling attitudes and, indeed,
a desideratum of the greatest importance in the present situa-
tion of the psychology of feeling is precisely such a pre-scien-
tific classification of the appreciative terms used in the first
stages of introspection. As was pointed out in the article re-
ferred to, the psychology of religious, ethical and aesthetic
feeling must build its generalizations almost entirely upon these
appreciative introspections (as for instance in the questionnaire

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 97

method) and its possibility rests ultimately upon the existence
of uniformities in such descriptions. Partial contributions to
such a classification already exist — notably in the sphere of
religious experience — but in default of any adequate view of
the whole range of such descriptions, and in view of the im-
possibility of attempting such a classification here, we may
resort to the more usual and more direct method of analysing
our experience directly for the primary fundamental meanings
of feeling, and then seeking to develop the secondary derived
meanings by genetic progressions from the fundamental. This
special application of the genetic method of analysis will have
the advantage of presenting our results in such a form as to con-
nect them immediately with the results of the preceding analy-
sis of functional presuppositions, and the two will act as mutually
supplementary and corrective.

III.

A. What, then, are the primary, irreducible aspects of feeling
without use of which as predicates the meaning of a feeling
attitude, i. £., its place in a system of meanings, cannot be fixed?
As has been suggested, these aspects must be expressed in terms
both of quality and degree. Our first concern is therefore with
the quality meanings. Every concrete feeling attitude has two
primary aspects or meanings, its directions and its references.
Its direction is either positive or negative. Its reference is
either transgredient or immanental. Of the first aspect little
need be said. It is that fundamental duality of quality which,
when feeling is viewed retrospectively as passive, as abstracted
from conation, is described as pleasantness-unpleasantness. As
direction or meaning of feeling attitude, however, it presupposes
relation of the attitude to conation.

What have been described as the references of feeling specify
more completely, on the other hand, this relation to conation :
they are aspects of the feeling which refer to something pre-
supposed, to a disposition already acquired and for which the
object has a meaning. In the case of the transgredient refer-
ence it is the sense of a subjective control leading on to other
states. In the case of the immanental, it is a sense of a control

98 WILBUR M. URBAN.

more objective leading to continuance or repose in the same
state. When it comes to describing these directions and ref-
erences, their different nuances and suggestions, use is made of
metaphorical and analogical terms the significance of which we
must consider.

The most fundamental analogical differentiation of feeling
in appreciative description is in connection with its directions
and is brought about by application of contrast pairs from the
different sense regions. Feelings are described as sweet or
bitter, bright or dull, soft or hard, etc. They specify for
finer discrimination and description the two fundamental direc-
tions of feeling, the positive and negative, pleasant and unpleas-
ant, and the basis of this transference is the fact that the conative
tendency connected with these feelings, as well as the actual
organic attitude, even when the feelings are connected with
perceptual and ideational activity, are the same as those
associated with sensations in terms of which the feeling is
described.

The second group of terms employed in differentiating the
worth suggestions of feeling attitudes are those which may be
described as dynamic. They describe the dynamic suggestions
of the feeling, specify the transgredient reference. This trans-
gredient reference is ordinarily described metaphorically in terms
of movement forms from the external world. Of the large
number of movement forms made use of in such descriptions a
slight study of appreciative literature, or of those appreciative
prescientific introspections, to which reference has already made
been, makes us immediately aware. They are full of terms for
different nuances of movements of the crescendo or diminuendo
type — of soaring, of uplift, of sudden breaking in upon con-
sciousness and of dying away, of height and depth, etc. They
can probably all be included under the general terms tension,
restlessness (and perhaps contraction), the nature of which
dimensions, and the theory connected with this classifica-
tion, we shall consider presently. From the point of view
of content such movement forms are also probably complexes
founded in intensity and duration relations of more ultimate
elements.

CONS CIO USWJSSS OF VALUE 99

However that may be, the characteristic of these symbolic
dynamic descriptions is that they describe transitional aspects of
experience, transitions from one aspect of content to another by
which meaning is acquired. By this I mean that in the present
feeling there is always a transgredient reference to a past or
future attitude. The present experience is always the fore-
ground of a background, past or future, which is still, or already,
dimly felt. Of course in such a feeling there is always refer-
ence to conation, and it might be objected that we are here deal-
ing with impulse and desire rather than with feeling if it were
not, as we shall seek to show, that feeling cannot be completely
abstracted from conation.

A third, and qualitatively opposite, class of terms is used
to characterize appreciatively the nuances of immanental refer-
ence of feeling. They may all be grouped, I think, under the
general terms, repose, relaxation, expansion. Feelings of ex-
pansion have an unusual wealth of descriptive terms at their
service. Favorite descriptions are in terms of pervasion, pos-
session. The subject of the emotion describes himself as per-
vaded — as by an ether, a fluid — as swallowed up by the
emotion, and in the mystical amorous and religious literature of
which such descriptions are typical, it is with love with the glory
or the will of God that the subject is filled. These suggestions,
meanings, of feelings are likewise probably aspects or qualities
founded in more elementary content. The significance of the
terms of their description is to be found in the fact that they
specify, in their symbolic way, nuances of that fundamental
meaning of feeling which we have called its immanental
reference.

That immanental reference of repose, with its expansion of
feeling, is a meaning which the feeling gets when the conative
tendency or disposition, presupposed, has reached the stage of
habit after accommodation. The object of the feeling occupies
the whole consciousness but into the meaning of the object is
taken up all the accumulated meaning of the processes of
accommodation for which the disposition now stands. The ref-
erence of the feeling is not beyond the present state but to some-
thing more deeply involved in it.

100 WILBUR M. URBAN.

In the case of the term expansion (and contraction its corre-
lative transgredient term) it is obvious that such descriptions are
metaphorical transferences from the spatial world of perception,
but I think it can scarcely be denied that, as appreciative
descriptions, they are as fundamental as the other descriptions
transferred from the experiences of intensity and duration. It
has been objected to the three-dimensional theory of feeling
that if the analogical terms, tension-relaxation, restlessness-
quiescence are introduced, there is no reason why the terms
contraction-expansion should not be applied. There is none in
fact — the only question is whether they are equally irreducible
terms of appreciative introspection. With an introspection
which is not appreciative we have in this connection no concern.

That contraction-expansion are in this sense fundamental
aspects of feeling I think there can be no question. And in this
connection it is interesting to note the fact that in a recent study
of feeling by experimental methods withont these appreciative
distinctions it was found impossible to distinguish the feeling
tone of simple sensation from a mood or disposition feeling.
"The former attaches, so to speak, to the stimulus- complex
(taste) while the latter spreads over the whole consciousness."
It was further found that they have different pneumographic
expressions. The former is attended by quickening, the latter
by slowing of respiration.1

B. The relation of this analysis to the so-called three-dimen-
sional theory of feeling developed by Wundt may be stated as fol-
lows. For us the terms of this theory are descriptive equivalents
appreciative meanings of total feeling attitudes, for Wundt they
are qualities of elementary content. The difference arises
necessarily from the different points of view from which the
description of the same experience is approached. The appre-
ciative descriptions try to fixate the meaning of the conative
references (transgredient and immanental) implicit in the feel-
ing attitude, references to preceding and succeeding conation.
The analysis of Wundt, on the other hand, seeks to fixate the
same experience by terms from which the worth connotation is

1 G. Storring, ' Experimentelle Beitrage zur Lehre von Geftihl,' Archivjiir
die gesammte Psychologic , Bd. I., Heft 3.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE IOI

more completely abstracted, where the implicit reference to the
self is ignored. Royce, it should however be noted in passing,
finds the interest in the hypothesis in the ' statement it makes
possible of the relation of feeling and conduct, not adequately
conceived on the one-dimensional theory/ a clear recognition
of the fact that he is concerned with appreciative description.

This theory, of which Royce's recent formulation is in prin-
ciple the same, distinguishes three fundamental qualities, of
feeling, pleasantness-unpleasantness, tension-relaxation, rest-
lessness-quiescence (or excitement-tranquilization). Concrete
feelings represent combinations of pleasantness-unpleasantness
with some member of the other groups. There may be a
pleasant or unpleasant feeling of tension, as hope or fear, a
pleasant or unpleasant feeling of relaxation, as contentment or
resignation. These illustrations, it will be observed, are all on
the cognitive level of emotion or sentiment. The question is
whether they are likewise aspects of simple hypothetical feeling
elements, sensation feelings.

That the three dimensional theory constitutes a true descrip-
tion of total feeling attitudes is then scarcely open to dispute.
The slightest appreciative introspection enables us to distinguish
between the exciting pleasure of hope and the tranquil pleasure
of peace, between the painful tension of dread and the equally
painful relaxation of despair. The question at issue is not then
whether these differences are appreciable among total feeling
attitudes and constitute worth suggestions but rather whether
they are equally characteristic of sensation feelings. On this
question there is no conclusive answer to be made at the present
time. Wundt has brought forward experimental evidence in
favor of the view that these additional qualities belong also to
simple sensation feelings (the feeling tone of colors and sounds,
for instance). As to the value of the evidence there is of course
still doubt. Some experimenters do not find the modifications
of the curves corresponding to the three-dimensional analysis.
But even if there were no question in regard to the facts them-
selves, the meaning of these facts would not be unequivocal.
We cannot, for one thing, be sure that while the stimuli are so-
called simple sensations the feeling reactions are simple feel-

102 WILBUR M. URBAN.

ings. They may be — and indeed probably are — on the
emotional level, the organic and muscular sensations due to the
surplus excitation. It is certainly true that the results are most
apparent, both in the graphic registration and in introspection,
as reference to Wundt's studies will show, in those cases where
the reactions are on the emotional level. Besides, as has
already been pointed out, although the feeling tone of sensa-
tion is itself not worth suggestive, on the level of worth feeling,
nevertheless, when the stimulus has reached a certain intensity
(or duration) it gives rise to a feeling attitude which is worth
suggestive. Until the experimental evidence is more un-
equivocal both introspection and logic would rather lead to the
view that these dimensions of feeling which seem to belong to
simple feeling tone of sensation are really qualities of a second-
ary feeling attitude following upon pleasure-causation. Stor-
ring's analyses, already referred to, would indicate the truth of
this view.1

IV.

A. Be this as it may, I think it may nevertheless at least be
said that these aspects of experience, whether that experience be a
hypothetical feeling element or sensation content, become -worth
suggestive^ acquire the transgredient and immanental references
only on the emotional level, only when the feeling is a feeling
attitude toward an object. And I think it may further be said
that the criterion of such a feeling attitude, of emotion (the term
emotion being used in its broadest sense to include passion,
emotion, sentiment and mood), is the presence of the cognitive
presuppositions already analyzed, presumption, judgment and

1 Recent criticisms of the three dimensional theory have been entirely
justified in saying, on the one hand (Calkins), that these qualifications of feel-
ing are taken from the side of conative meaning, and on the other (Washburn),
that when we look for content equivalents for them we find them only in sensa-
tions, kinaesthetic and organic. Both statements are true and at the same time
thoroughly consistent with each other, as will appear in our studies of feeling.
It is only in the appreciatively described total meaning of the attitude that
these appear as primary qualities of experience. When we take the abstract
point of view of function they break up into relations of affirmation and arrest of
tendency. When we take the abstract point of view content or structure, they
break up into complexes or series of sensations, the reconciliation of structural
and functional points of view in psychology is to correlate them both with the
appreciative description from which both take their origin.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 103

assumption. What is meant by this, to state the point more
fully, is that the differences in feeling attitude appreciatively
distinguishable appear only in total feeling attitudes and are not
qualities of the mere feeling tone of sensations. It may be that
the content which acquires these meanings are certain simple
affective or sensational elements but they acquire these mean-
ings only on the cognitive level of emotion.

The view here developed involves the further conception
that the criterion of an emotion, a feeling attitude, is to be found
in the presence of a cognitive act (presumption, judgment, as-
sumption) as the presupposition of the feeling. Can this view
be maintained? I think it may not only be reasonably main-
tained, but is in fact inevitable if we approach the study of feel-
ing psychoses (on the level of emotion) from the standpoint of
their meaning. There is, to be sure, another point of view (the
more abstract study of content and of emotional expression)
from which this scarcely seems to be the necessary criterion,
as for instance in the case of the inherited instinctive emotions,
of which the instinctive fears of animals is a good illustration.
But while this is true — and with this view of the facts our pres-
ent analysis must, in its proper place, be brought into harmony,
it is nevertheless also true that, as a meaning, an emotional atti-
tude always presupposes such cognitive acts. Joy and sorrow,
the two typical and fundamental emotional attitudes which have
these worth suggestions or meanings, become meaningless, lose
all internal meaning, when conceived apart from these presup-
positions. They are usually judgment feelings, although not
always such (as Meinong maintains), for they may follow upon
simple presumption or assumption of reality. The joy in the pre-
sumed, assumed or judged reality of an object is toto genere dif-
ferent from the pleasantness of a sensation. And the same is true
of those modes of emotional attitude, such as fear, dread, despair,
hope, elation, in which the cognitive act is further modified in
the direction of mere possibility or necessity. It is further to be
observed that, from the point of view of appreciative analysis,
these emotional attitudes are variously specified according as
the fundamental positive or negative direction has transgredient
reference with its tension or restlessness, or immanental refer-

104 WILBUR M. URBAN.

ence with its relaxation and repose. Joy or sorrow, as we have
seen, may be of either type. The inevitable conclusion seems
to be that these meanings arise only when there is that totaliza-
tion of attitude the condition of which is the actualization of
conative dispositions through acts of the type described.1

There are, however, certain phenomena which constitute an
apparent exception to this law, namely objectless feelings (emo-
tions, sentiments and moods) which are clearly worth-suggestive
in our sense and find expression in worth judgments. Practi-
cally all the concrete emotional attitudes, joy, sadness, anger,
fear, may appear as worth feelings without concrete perceptual
or ideal objects. A nameless sadness or fear, an objectless
anger, may arise in consciousness with all the worth suggestions
of enhanced or thwarted conation, but without any object upon
which it is definitely directed. This does not mean that there
are not adequate conditions (physiological) but merely that there
are not sufficient presuppositions, judgmental reference to the
existence or non-existence of objects. They would appear at
first sight to be without such presuppositions. In reality, how-
ever, they are to be viewed as in the main analogous to the im-
personal judgment in the sphere of cognition. As in the im-
personal judgment there is no directly asserted subject of the
predicate discoverable, so in objectless emotions and moods
there is no directly asserted object of judgment to which the
worth predicates implied in the feelings of joy, sorrow, etc.,

1 Wundt (and, it may be added, Hoffding before him) makes much of the
principle of totalization, of total resultant, in his analysis and theory of feel-
ing. Whatever be the nature of the simple feelings (the manifold elements
of content) they all tend to merge in a total resultant a unitary feeling.
This principle of ' Einheit der Gefiihls-Lage ' is referred to the principle
of unity of apperception for its explanation, all feeling being viewed as the
subjective aspect of apperception. The truth of this general proposition is
beyond question but there are different grades of apperception and direrent
degrees of totalization. Undoubtedly when attention is held by a sensation of
sound or color, or by an organic sensation, its feeling tone tends to dominate
consciousness and to fuse with it all other feeling tones. But it is not until
there is explicit reference of the sensation, as object, to a conative disposition
through judgment or assumption, that totalization of attitude takes place
which gives rise to the worth suggestions of feeling. In such a totalization
the feeling tone of sensations, as such, becomes irrelevant and subordinate to
the worth feelings of the attitude as a whole.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 105

are applied. Reality is implied — the feelings are real and
earnest but there is no existential judgment about any definite
object in reality. There is merely an undifferentiated pre-
sumption or assumption of reality as presupposition. But this
is sufficient to make them worth feelings.

The psychology of the impersonal judgment scarcely leaves
us room to doubt of its nature. There is for such judgment
neither subject nor predicate, nor reference of the one to the
other. It is, so to speak, the amorphous, protoplasmic germ of
later reflective judgments which do involve a separation of subject
and predicate. Whatever, in the interests of systematic logic, we
may seek to supply as the subject of such judgment (in order
to bring it within the classifications of logical judgment) —
whether we may describe the subject as universal, undeter-
mined, the whole of reality, or as a determined and particular
sensation of the moment — the fact remains that psycholog-
ically, the < if9 of the impersonal judgment is contentless. Pre-
cisely similarly, in the objectless worth feeling the object is no
presentation, with the added judgment of existence or non-
existence, no presentation either universal or particular, no sen-
sation either peripheral or organic. Subject and predicate,
presentation and feeling are not discriminated. We have to do
here with a protoplasmic worth attitude without judgmental
presuppositions but which may become definite through inclusion
among its presuppositions, which are now merely conative and
dispositional, of some explicit act of judgment.

B. Can we then correlate these meanings of worth feelings,
thus appreciatively described, with specific types of cognitive
presuppositions ? The necessary presupposition of worth feeling,
as we have seen, is the actualization of a conative disposition
through acts of presumption, assumption and judgment. Can
we connect the specific type of reference of the feeling with a
definite type of actual presupposition?

The two directions of worth feeling (positive and negative), as
distinguished from mere pleasantness-unpleasantness, contain
some presupposition of reality — witness our study of joy and
sorrow, love and anger, hope and despair. And, as we shall see

106 WILBUR M. URBAN.

later, positive and negative worth may vary independently of
pleasantness-unpleasantness. But it is with the other qualifica-
tions of feeling, references to conation, that we are chiefly con-
cerned. When we turn to the transgredient reference, with its
tension, restlessness, contraction, and immanental reference with
its relaxation repose and expansion, we find that they are closely
connected with changes in the presupposition of reality, with
modification of the cognitive presuppositions.

In general the transgredient reference appears in all those
emotional attitudes where an habitual presupposition of reality
meets with opposition or arrest, where for instance primitive
presumption passes into assumption and judgment. In such a
case it may be either the subjective control factor, the conative
disposition which is felt in the background and gives rise to the
assumption, or the more objective factor of control, the recog-
nitive, determining and giving rise to judgment. In either
case, however, the transgredient reference is to a disposition in
the background, in the process of determining a new accom-
modation.

The immanental reference to reality, on the other hand,
represents the emotional attitude which goes with accommoda-
tion realized. It is the feeling which attaches to judgment
habit or to the assumption of the second type arising out of that
habit. The fact that habit has its own feeling, its own worth
suggestions, is a point which must be emphasized throughout.

V.

A. With the analysis of these primary aspects or meanings
which feelings disclose, we are led to the problem of derived or
acquired feeling attitudes. There are two possible conceptions
of the nature of these attitudes and of the process of their
derivation. The first of these is the concept of fusion or mix-
ture of feelings, purely analytical in character. On this view
the aspects of feeling, the selective meanings of appreciative
description, are hypostatized as elements and all acquired mean-
ings are conceived as fusions or mixtures of these elements.
The second concept, genetic and functional in character, looks
upon the derived attitude, the acquired meaning, as a new

CONSCIOUSNESS Of VALUE 107

aspect, the product of a new * totalization ' of consciousness in
which the old aspects are taken up into the new, but in which
the new meaning is not exhausted by its analysis into the old
elements. The new feeling attitude is a new accommodation,
a * progression ' in meaning or, in terms of worth theory, a value
movement.

The former of these views, of very limited applicability at
the best in any region of psychological explanation, is wholly
inapplicable to the explanation pf the meanings of feeling
attitudes. Wundt, unfortunately, despite his three-dimensional
theory, is still too much under the influence of this conception,
although in applying his fundamental law of psychical causality,
the law of resultants, he explicitly asserts that there is an ac-
quired meaning in the resultant complexes or fusions not found
in the elements. It is better to abandon the concept of elements
entirely in this connection and to make use wholly of the genetic
concept of progression or acquirement of meaning through
change in presuppositions.

The acquired qualifications, selective meanings of feelings
may be divided into two groups : (i) the acquired meanings of
simple appreciation and (2) those of characterization and par-
ticipation. If we recall these distinctions, previously made, it
will be remembered that simple appreciation of an object is an
appreciation of its affective-volitional meaning or worth prior to
explicit reference of the object to the Ego or the Alter or to
other objects, prior, in other words, to secondary possessive or
instrumental judgments. On the level of simple appreciation
appear, then, certain qualifications of the general transgredient
and immanental references of feeling.

B. The first of these acquired meanings to be considered is
the feeling of ougktness or obligation. The feeling of oughtness
that a thing should &e, that an act should take place, is a specific
form of the feeling of worth. As such, upon our view, it
should be defined in terms of its presuppositions. Apprecia-
tively described, it is an acquired modification of the general
feeling of transgredient reference, of tension. Apart from
appreciative description it is an experience of mere strain, per-

IOS WILBUR M. URBAN.

haps, from the point of view of content, a mere strain sensation.
Its differentia is to be found in the precise character of the
transgredient reference and therefore in the character of its
cognitive presuppositions. Now the feeling of oughtness, in
its simplest form, attaches to objects, to things. It is felt that if
a thing does not exist it ought to. As thus applied (for instance
by a child who as yet has practically no sense of personal,
ethical obligation) it means little more than that the thing is de-
sired. But just that little additional meaning is the important
modification. Is it possible to define that additional meaning?

The point of difference is to be found, I think, in the fact
that the presuppositions of the feeling of oughtness are not sim-
ple as in the case of a simple mode of feeling or desire. The
feeling of oughtness is in fact a transition mode between two
existential judgments, in which an existential feeling is quali-
fied by an assumption feeling. The object does not exist, and
we have the corresponding feeling or desire, but so strong is
the conative disposition presupposed, that it gives rise to an
assumption of existence. This assumption is felt to be not
merely possible but necessary and thus, as Simmel has said,
obligation is in one aspect a mode of thought lying midway be-
tween possibility and necessity.1 The source of this assumption
is the subject's conative disposition and the feeling of oughtness
is the feeling of that subjective control, but, since the subjective
control is not explicitly acknowledged in judgment, the ought-
ness is felt as a tertiary quality of the object.

The transgredient reference of the assumption is therefore
to the disposition. To refer again to the figure of the fore-
ground and background of consciousness, the judgment of ex-
istence or non-existence of the object is in the foreground, the
modification of the feeling which we describe as oughtness has
reference to an object in the background which at first is
revealed merely in this modification of feeling, but which later,
through the activities of ideal construction and judgment, becomes
an explicit ideal object, the self or the social will, when de-

1 Simmel's masterly study of the mode of oughtness, das Sollen ( ' Einleitung
indie Moral wissenschaf t ' ) can be merely referred to in passing, fuller treat-
ment being reserved for another connection. The important point is that it is
A fundamental mode, at the same time cognitive and affective-volitional.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 109

veloped ethical obligation is felt. In a sense the simple feeling
of oughtness is objectless until this stage of ideal construction is
reached.

C. Corresponding to the feeling mode of oughtness, the pri-
mary mode out of which ethical obligation develops, we find a
second mode of simple appreciation which represents a special
qualification of the immanental reference of feeling, the ' sem-
blant ' or aesthetic mode.1 This mode, the aesthetic psychosis, is
always appreciatively described in terms of repose and expansion
and its worth, in so far as the experience is purely aesthetic, is im-
manental. Here again, we have, not a simple aspect of feeling
with simple presuppositions, but an attitude implying transition
and accommodation, characterized by typical changes in cogni-
tive presuppositions.

The characteristics of this mode of feeling, its repose,
relaxation and expansion, have their origin in the fact that the
judgments of existence and non-existence, and with them ex-
plicit conation, desire, are inhibited, reduced to a minimum,
remain in fact merely as a dispositional presupposition, while
consciousness is largely absorbed in presentational content. With
the laws governing the ordering of that content, which condi-
tion the arrest of desire and the inducing of repose, we are not
at this point concerned ; it is sufficient to note the general fact
that formal principles of the aesthetic owe their significance psy-
chologically to the fact that they are instrumental in producing
this effect. But, as has already been pointed out, it is not an
adequate view of the aesthetic to regard it as a purely presenta-
tional consciousness. While explicit judgment is reduced to a
minimum, its place is taken by assumptions which relate the
object to the desire which is now merely dispositional. These
assumptions, we have seen, may be of two types, the assumption
which takes the place of primitive presumption after arrest, and
that which becomes the substitute for the disposition or habit
created by judgment and desire. In the first case we have the

!For the use of the term ' semblant mode,' see Baldwin's Thought and
Things, Vol. I., especially Chapter VI. As to the complete identification of
sembling with Einfuhlung, I think there is some doubt, since the latter, in at
least some of its aspects, is earnest, and the feeling has presumption and judg-
ment — not merely assumption — as its presupposition.

110 WILBUR M. URBAN.

primitive semblant mode, in the latter the more developed mode
of contemplation.

In general, then, the aesthetic mode of sembling or con-
templation is a complex, derived, mode of feeling of value in
which the presuppostitions are presentational content and assump-
tions. To use again the figure of the foreground and back-
ground of consciousness, the foreground is taken up with pres-
entational content, the psychical energies involved in judgment
are occupied with the activities of mere apperception of content
in its relations, with contemplation, while in the background
remains the assumption of existence, with its reference to cona-
tive dispositions. While the object is detached from immediate
desire, its relation to desire is not severed. The object has its
own reality coefficient and the feeling ^s a feeling of value.
The source of these assumptions and of the objectivity, reality,
which the object has, differs in important respects from that of
the assumption in the feeling of oughtness. While the control
is still partly subjective, is determined by conative disposition,
the objective factor, the presentational content has a much larger
share in the determination of the assumption.

An illustration will show the situation with greater clearness.
The aesthetic appreciation of feminine beauty is a psychosis
grafted immediately upon desire and desire dispositions. The
process by which the aesthetic psychosis supervenes upon that
of crude desire is one of arrest, social and individual, and a
rearrangement of the elements of the object presented either
unconsciously, or consciously as in art, in such a manner as to
fill the foreground of consciousness with presentational activity
and to detach the object from immediacy of desire. An implicit
assumption of the existence of the object for desire is, however,
a necessary presupposition of the aesthetic appreciation. Should
the conative disposition become explicit in actual desire, the
aesthetic repose would cease and a new adaptation take place.

In both these appreciative modes, it should finally be ob-
served, worth or affective volitional meaning has been acquired.
The deepening of the transgredient or immanental reference, as
the case may be, becomes part of the funded meaning of the
object, or is imputed to the object. The recognition of this fact

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE m

is of far reaching importance for all the meanings acquired in
these modes of appreciation enter in as determinants in later
judgments of value.

D. Simple appreciation, with its two primary modifications de-
scribed, is further differentiated into secondary acquired mean-
ings, through certain value movements, progressions, the nature
of which is to be considered more fully later, but which we may
here ignore for the reason that our problem is merely apprecia-
tive description of feeling attitudes. These meanings are those
which we describe as personal worths (of possession and merit),
instrumental or utility meanings (values of utilization) and the
common meanings, or feelings, of -participation value. The
characteristic of all these modifications of primary feeling of
value is to be found in the fact that they arise through the
establishment of relational judgments between the object and
the disposition presupposed. Otherwise expressed, that which
in simple appreciation was a merely felt transgredient or im-
manental reference, now acquires its explicit object which is
acknowledged in judgment.

An analysis of the personal feelings makes this point clear.
The feeling of possession is more than the feeling of the worth
of the object, as presumed, judged or assumed to exist. The
object acquires an imputed value through the explicit acknowl-
edgment of the subject for which it exists. So also in the case
of the feeling of personal obligation or merit which arises on
the basis of a reference of the valued disposition to the person-
ality. In general we may say that the personal feelings have
an additional presupposition of reality which the primary feel-
ings have not. But the more developed modes of these primary
feelings, the obligation and the semblant are germinal to these
personal values. They are transition stages in which a new
feeling mode is introduced, through the transgredient or im-
manental reference arising upon assumptions. In the case of the
personal value the assumption becomes an existential judgment
of acknowledgment of the self. Of course such a transition re-
quires ideal construction of the self, and this involves the * feel-
ing-in' of primary experiences into others — an extension of

112 WILBUR M. URBAN.

simple appreciation through sympathetic Einfuhlung> a process
to be studied in another connection.

The impersonal feelings of the participation values or utility
values of dispositions and objects involve a further extension of
this acquirement of common meaning. In addition to the pre-
supposition of the reality of the desired object there is an
additional presupposition of similar desires and feelings in the
minds of others which gives rise ultimately to judgments and
assumptions of over-individual demands. How such presup-
positions arise is again, of course, a genetic problem of psychol-
ogy, more especially of the study of the laws of sympathetic
imitation and Einfuhlung\ the main point here is that the
appreciative differences in the meaning of the feelings arises
through acknowledgment of references which were previously
merely implicit.

And it should be noted finally that just as the transgredient
and immanental references acquire depth of meaning through
the obligation and aesthetic modes, so in these further processes
primary feeling is deepened and broadened.

IV.

A. Worth predicates have been defined as funded meanings
of the objects. These predicates or meanings correspond, we
have seen, to certain qualitative aspects of feeling, primary and
derived. But these meanings or values have also a quantita-
tive aspect, of degree. To what aspects of feeling do these
differences of degree correspond ?

It has been already pointed out that many psychologists
have found it necessary to distinguish between degree of feel-
ing of value and degree of intensity of sensation-feeling and
some have used such terms as depth and breadth of the feeling
in the personality to characterize quantitatively the worth sug-
gestion of the feeling. And when we follow more closely the
appreciative distinctions made in the sphere of worth experience
it becomes clear that some such distinction is necessary. For
in the first place it is to be observed that, if we make use of those
appreciative descriptions of feeling subsumed under the general
terms transgredient and immanental references, we cannot

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 113

properly apply the quantitative term intensity. While, for
instance, we may speak of the degree we cannot properly speak
of intensity, of repose or expansion. Here we must use the
terms depth and breadth. Thus we find Munsterberg l accept-
ing the ordinary formula that intensity of feeling decreases
with repetition and at the same time, in his desire to do justice
to the concrete facts of worth experience, insisting that repeti-
tion may increase the depth of feeling tone. Clearly depth and
intensity are definitely distinguished and admitted to be inde-
pendently variable. It would appear, then that we must make
a distinction between degree (or intensity in the broader Kantian
sense) and intensity in the narrower sense of sensational in-
tensity, between degree of feeling of value and intensity of
pleasantness-unpleasantness as feeling tone of sensations. In-
tensity in this latter sense applies to all sensation feelings,
1 pleasure-causation ' as we have described it, and probably to
all sensation feelings which enter into a total feeling complex,
but properly speaking not to feeling attitudes, not to the worth
aspect of feeling.

What then is the relation between the degree of acquired
meaning, value, of a feeling attitude and intensity of pleasant-
ness-unpleasantness? How are they related for appreciative
introspection and analysis, and how shall this empirical relation,
when determined, be connected with our analysis of the condi-
tions, actual and dispositional, of these two aspects of feeling?
This question is of the utmost importance not only because of
the fact that it is a problem implied in our preceding distinctions
between feeling of value and pleasantness-unpleasantness, be-
tween pleasantness-unpleasantness and the appreciative aspects
of feeling attitude, its selective meanings, but also because in
the solution of this problem is involved the whole question of
the measurement of feelings of value to which we must pres-
ently turn.

B. We find, then, that not only is worth experience distin-
guishable, in the aspects both of quality and degree, from pleas-
ure-causation, but also that the worth modifications or sugges-
tions of feeling are to an extent variable independently of hedonic

1 Miinsterberg, Grundziige der Psychologic , p. 39.

114 WILBUR M. URBAN.

intensity. Two phenomena of our worth experience indicate
this relation, (i) Positive worth feeling may exist side by side
with unpleasant experiences and negative worth feeling with
pleasant. (2) Degree of worth feeling may increase with de-
crease of hedonic intensity and there are numerous instances
where worth feelings are practically intensitiless. These facts
have led to the general conception of the irrelevance of the
hedonic aspects of a total attitude for worth judgment and the
formulation of Brentano's term * hedonic redundancies ' to de-
scribe them.

We shall examine the facts briefly and then turn to a con-
sideration of the theories of the relation of the two distinguish-
able aspects. The first phenomenon is well illustrated in the
classical description of Lessing. In a letter to Mendelssohn he
writes : " Darinn sind wir wohl doch einig, lieber Freund, dass
alle Leidenschaften entweder heftige Begierden oder heftige
Verabscheuungen sind? Auch darinn : dass wir uns bei jeder
heftigen Begierde oder Verabscheuung eines grosser Grads
unserer Realitat bewusst sind und dass dieses Bewusstsein nicht
anders als angenehm sein kann? Folglich, sind alle Leiden-
schaften,. auch die allerunangenehmsten, als Leidenschaften,
angenehm." The paradox of calling that which is unpleasant
pleasant, and the lack of adequate analysis in this description,
should not blind us to its essential appreciative truth. While
the same feeling cannot at the same time be both pleasant and
unpleasant, it is quite possible that we are concerned here with
two feelings in certain relations to each other.

Plausible explanations have been given from the point of
view of the identification of worth feeling with pleasure-causa-
tion. It might be said that we have to do here with an illusion
of judgment, that what was formerly unpleasant has really be-
come pleasant through change in physiological disposition, and
that the unpleasantness instead of being real is merely a memory
of former unpleasantness. It seems hardly necessary, however,
to deny, in the interests of theory, what is a fairly constant
deliverance of appreciation, namely that positive worth feeling
may be coexistent with actual unpleasantness. Or it has been

1 Quoted from Him, Origins of Art, London, 1900, p. 60.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE "5

said that we have a simple case of mixed feeling. A pleasant
and unpleasant sensation feeling may exist side by side in the
same state of consciousness (as for instance the pleasant taste
of sugar and the unpleasant sensations of satiety as they are
just beginning to appear) — why should not two worth feelings
or worth feeling and simple pleasantness or unpleasantness?
To this we may answer that the two cases are not parallel. The
inapplicability of the concept of mixture or fusion to feelings of
value we have already pointed out and in this case the figure is
especially misleading.

If we look at Lessing's description more closely we find that
his paradox really arises from a failure to analyze — to distin-
guish between two aspects of the total psychosis, the feeling of
value and the irrelevant hedonic accompaniments. The situa-
tion he describes admits of two interpretations. On the one
hand the passion, of anger let us say, is really a feeling of
negative worth, with certain cognitive presuppositions, unpleas-
ant, as Lessing says. It is quite possible, however, that the
organic disturbance may be pleasantly toned, especially after
long continued arrest, with its accompanying strain sensations
negatively toned. We have here then pleasant accompaniments
of a feeling of negative worth. On the other hand, it is equally
possible that what Lessing calls the pleasantness of the un-
pleasant passion may really cover a gradual transition from one
feeling of value to another, and what he calls the pleasantness
of the psychosis may be a feeling of value of the personal type.
The object itself may have negative worth while the entire ex-
perience of having such a passion, or in fact the knowledge of
the capacity for such reaction, may give rise to a feeling of
satisfaction, of personal worth. This might even extend to
such passions which have unpleasant hedonic accompaniments.
Feelings of value might be accompanied by unpleasant sensa-
tion-feelings.

The second group of facts which lead to this appreciative
differentiation of degree of intensity of pleasantness-unpleasant-
ness from degree of worth or meaning of the feeling, are the
so-called intensitiless attitudes or acts of valuation or preference.
Here, it is maintained, quasi-logical modifications take the place

II 6 WILBUR M. URBAN.

of intensity. If we begin with those two primary modifications
of simple appreciation, the ethical and aesthetic, we find intensity
giving place to other modifications. A quiet sense of obligation
may reveal a degree of worth of an ideal object which the in-
tensest passion or emotion does not suggest. Similarly in the
aesthetic, semblant mode a degree of immanental worth may be
suggested in the depth and breadth of the feeling when the ele-
ment of intensity is reduced to a minimum. But still more evi-
dent do these facts become when we pass to the secondary,
derived feelings, the personal and the impersonal over-individual
references. In a case of preference between objects to which
these feelings correspond, a relatively intensitiless feeling of
personal worth may have an affective-volitional meaning which
the intensest passion connected with a condition worth has not,
and so with the over-individual feelings. If then by intensity we
mean not the broader Kantian conception of any modification
of degree of inner experience, but that particular degree which
applies to sensation and feeling tone of sensation, there can be
no question but that worth feelings, as determined by judg-
ment and assumption, may be practically intensitiless. These
acts are of course causally connected with sensation tendencies,
both peripheral and organic, and every such act has as accom-
paniment secondary hedonic resonances of more or less inten-
sity, but the point is that appreciatively we can distinguish the
two factors and are aware that the latter do not determine the
worth judgment.

The facts upon which this hypothesis of independent varia-
bility of the two factors in a total worth attitude is based are
now before us, as well as some insight into the subordinate role
which the hedonic resonance plays in worth judgments. We
are, however, as yet wholly without any conception which will
enable us to understand this relation functionally.

C. There are two general theories of this relation, which
may be described as the dualistic and monistic, or genetic. The
dualistic theory is represented by Brentano and Schwartz. In
Brentano's view,1 as we have seen, any concrete attitude of valu-

1 Brentano, Psychologic, especially page 197. Also Ur sprung der sittlichen
Erkentniss, especially page 86.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 117

ation can be analyzed into two aspects, intensitiless acts of
preference, acts of love and hate, and the hedonic redundancies
which accompany them. To the latter, as sensation feelings,
belong alone, properly speaking, degrees of intensity. To the
primary reaction belong quasi-logical directions, worth sugges-
tions, which give rise to worth predicates and judgments. In
Schwartz's view l feeling intensity belongs to the passive side
of consciousness while degrees of worth to the active, voluntar-
istic side. They appear in the form of acts of analytic and
synthetic preference. The essential of both conceptions is the
dualism between feeling and will, and the reference of worth
distinctions to modifications of will.

The facts which have given rise to this theory are, as we
have seen, true enough. So also is the conception of hedonic
redundancies, in so far as it merely describes for appreciation
the functional relation of these two aspects. But it is far from
certain that it is necessary to draw their dualistic conclusion.
That would follow only on condition that feeling and will are
totally different elements and the distinction between them as
active and passive is ultimate, and secondly, that the only
modification of feeling which could be made the equivalent of
degrees of worth is hedonic intensity.

Whether these assumptions are necessary must be deter-
mined ultimately by a consideration of the whole question of
the psyschology of feeling and will and their relations, which
must be reserved for another connection. It will be sufficient
here to deny the necessity of such assumptions, and in the
meantime to suggest a second possible conception, monistic and
genetic in character. Feeling, according to our analysis, has
other modifications, other meanings than passive pleasantness
unpleasantness, transgredient and immanental references to
conative dispositions. These references which arise only when
the disposition is actualized by cognitive acts of presumption,
judgment, assumption, are signs of the affective-volitional
meaning of the object, its relation to conation. Feeling as
passive is therefore not to be separated from will as active.
But more than this — these references, these aspects may, con-

1 Schwartz, Psychologie des Willens, Chapter II., also Appendix I.

Ii8 WILBUR M. URBAN.

ceivably, — with repeated actualization of the dispositions —
become differentiated, as selective meanings, from the aspect
of hedonic intensity, and increase in depth and breadth. If
this view should prove tenable, we should have a relation anal-
ogous to that between the general concept and the particular
presentation. As the meaning of the concept develops with
actualization of the judgment disposition in successive cog-
nitive acts, the particular presentation becomes less and less
significant, until what is practically im ageless apprehension
may appear. So also with the development of the selective
meanings of feeling attitude, the hedonic resonance may become
less and less significant until relatively intensitiless appreciation
of the worth of the object appears. The substantiation of such
a conception of affective generalization involves a more ex-
tended excursion into the psychology of feeling. Here we may
merely note the fact that such feeling attitudes exist, in the case
where the presuppositions are assumptions, either of the explicit
or implicit type.

V.

A. In concluding this study we may with advantage return to
a consideration of that preliminary definition of worth and worth
predicates from which this entire analysis took its start. This
analysis, it will be seen, has given content to that definition. It
has also given us the ground work for further researches into
the principles governing the concrete phenomena of valuation
of different types, economic, ethical, aesthetic, etc. A more
general view, both retrospective and prospective, will serve to
give unity to the results attained.

In general, we found worth or value to be the funded affec-
tive-volitional meaning of the object for the subject. That
funded meaning, expressed in terms of the worth predicates,
goodness, utility, beauty, obligation, desert, etc., represents the
desirability of the object (although not necessarily the fact of
actual desire). The funded meaning is acquired through actu-
alization of conative dispositions by acts of presumption, judg-
ment and assumption, and this actualization results in feeling
which undergoes certain modifications, with change in presup-
positions, and with repetition. This feeling, with its modifica-

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 119

tions, reflects the funded meaning of the object. Worth predi-
cation, in the aspects both of quality and degree, is determined
by appreciative modifications of feeling which in turn are deter-
mined by changes in presuppositions of the feeling.

To these funded meanings, roughly classified as simple ap-
preciation of objects (with its obligation and semblant modes)
personal worths of characterization, and common over-individ-
ual values of participation and utilization, correspond certain
classes of objects, primary and founded, perceptual and ideal.
All these derived objects, with their corresponding attitudes, are
perceptual and ideal constructions which emerge, through cer-
tain value movements or progressions, from simple appreciation.
The genesis of these objects, with their corresponding predi-
cates, is one of the chief problems which present themselves.
This differentiation and fixation of objects and predicates of
valuation must be traced to fundamental laws of psychical
process, of processes by which affective-volitional meaning is
acquired. These laws we may describe as the Laws of
Valuation.

B. But worth predication has a quantitative as well as qualita-
tive side. Worth judgments express the degree of preferability
of one object over another (as well as degrees of preferability of
amounts of the same object). We are thus led to the problem
of the measurement of the worth or funded meaning of objects.
At this point several questions arise. Is worth or value, as we
have conceived it, an object, a function, to which the concepts
of quantity and measurement can be applied?

In answering this question we must first note the fact that
such quantitative judgments do exist. Within the various
regions of worth predication numerous empirical uniformities
are discoverable connecting quantity of object with degree of
worth predicated. Thus in the region of economic * condition '
worths, there are certain empirical laws connecting changes
in the intrinsic desirability or in the utility (instrumental
desirability) of an object with changes in its quantity. In the
region of personal worth judgments the obligation or desert
predicated varies in certain definite ways with changes in the

120 WILBUR M. URBAN.

amount of the object (in this case in dispositions displayed).
The same is true of those judgments upon dispositions according
to their over-individual, participation value. It is clear then that
merely empirical relations of a quantitative character may be
established between objects and their worth predicates or funded
meanings. But such empirical laws would constitute no ex-
planation, nor would they enable us to establish relations of
degree between objects of these different types. While we
might formulate empirical statements of dependence of degree
of value of the object upon changes in the object without for-
mulating any theory of the psychological grounds for this depen-
dence, this measurement must, if it is to lead to any insight into
the nature of worth judgments, involve the reduction of these
empirical uniformities to more ultimate psychological laws.1

The question whether worth, or funded meaning of an ob-
ject as we have defined it, is susceptible of measurement is
reduced, then, to the still more fundamental question whether
the psychological determinants of that meaning are objects of
measurement. Into the acquired, funded meaning of an object
enter various elements presupposing various processes and atti-
tudes. If these can be analyzed out and their contributions to
the total worth of the object determined, such measurement is
possible. On the view which we have rejected — that degree
of worth is to be equated with degree of intensity of pleasant-
ness-unpleasantness (or as sometimes formulated, with a func-
tion of intensity and duration) — the problem is, at least theoreti-
cally, simple. The laws of habit, satiety, contrast, etc., for
sensation feelings might be applied directly to feelings of value.
But such a procedure is impossible after our analysis. The

1 Thus to take an illustration from another region of psychology, the sig-
nificance of the empirical formulation of Weber's law for perception holds
good irrespective of any theory of its psychological explanation. Or, to take
another illustration from a more closely related region of investigation, from a
special region of economic worth analysis, the law of marginal utility is an
empirical law which holds, within limits, irrespective of its interpretation and
is capable of explanation in terms which do not necessitate the hypothesis of
continuous change in hedonic intensity. We must therefore distinguish be-
tween the merely empirical formulation of more and less and our theory of the
psychological determinants of the change in worth or affective volitional mean-
ing of the object.

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE 121

psychological determinants are for us more complex. Having
defined feelings of value as feelings presupposing dispositions
actualized by presumption, judgment and assumption, our prob-
lem is the determination of the capacity of the object, as pre-
sumed, judged or assumed to exist, to call out feelings of value.
Since the worth of the object is a function of the capacity of the
subject for feeling, as determined by these preceding processes
of accommodation in judgment and assumption, we must inquire
into the effect of these processes upon the dispositions presup-
posed. The analysis and formulation of these factors constitute
the laws of valuation. Such laws are capable of determination,
and when determined they enable us to explain the empirical
laws of ' more and less ' already described.

A STUDY OF AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPH-
ERAL RETINA.

BY HELEN BRADFORD THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON,
From the Psychological Laboratory of Mount Holyoke College.

In a recent paper in this REVIEW l Miss Grace Fernald dis-
cussed the effect which the brightness of different backgrounds
has upon the color tone of stimuli seen in indirect vision. Her
work, performed in this laboratory, suggested to the writers a
research in which peripheral after-images should be observed
with special reference to the brightness of the backgrounds upon
which they were cast. So far as the writers know this is the
first systematic study of this particular point. For a general
statement about peripheral after-images the reader is referred to
Dr. Baird's work * The Color Sensitivity of the Peripheral
Retina,' pp. 63-65.

The following experiments were made in the laboratory of
Mt. Holyoke College and extended through the academic years
of 1904-1906. The subjects were Miss Lucia Bradley B, Miss
Mabel Fernald F, students who had had laboratory training but
who did not know the purpose of this research, and the writers
T and G. T and G did not anticipate the results and avoided
as far as possible any speculation during the progress of the
investigation. All these subjects had normal color vision, ex-
cept for the fact that B had color processes of unusual duration.

All observations were made upon the light-adapted eye and
in daylight illumination. The walls and floor of the room were
colorless ; white curtains at the windows were lowered on bright
sunny days and drawn aside at other times ; nearly all work
was done in the morning between the hours of nine and twelve,
and on very dark days no experiments were made. As stimuli
we used nine colors of the Hering tissue paper series ; carmine,
red, orange, yellow, green, blue-green, green-blue, blue and
violet. These colors were shown upon back-grounds of differ-

1 Vol. XII., p. 386 ff.

122

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 123

ing brightness made of papers taken from the Hering gray
series. The five following backgrounds were used : paper no.
i called white, no. 3 which matched the yellow tissue paper in
brightness and was called the yellow background, no. 7 which
matched the green in brightness, no. 38 which matched the blue
and no. 50 which was called black. The greater number of
readings was taken on the yellow, green and blue grounds (want
of time prevented work on a background matching red). In
matching the above colors in brightness two methods were fol-
lowed ; first, in indirect vision the point was found where yellow
(resp. green or blue) looked gray, and the color was then ex-
posed on a variety of the Hering grays until the best match was
determined on ; in the second place a small patch of gray was
pasted on a disc of color and the disc rotated, and the gray
selected which appeared to make least change in the brightness
of the color. These tests were made on several subjects and
at various times.

The apparatus and method of color-exposure were the same
as those described by Miss Fernald.1 The papers which served
as backgrounds were mounted upon a campimeter, and along
this campimeter fixation points were marked. The colors, how-
ever, were always shown from the same point, i. £., directly
below the eye. At the beginning of each test the subject stood
with the head bent over the campimeter, the eye being steadied
by a rest moulded to suit the brow and cheek-bone, and looked
down through a small circular opening in the campimeter into
a mirror below. The precise adjustment of the eye was ac-
complished by means of this image in the mirror ; with one
subject, for example, there was only one position in which the
eye could see itself in the glass, and at the same time get the
two corners of the eye in line with the row of fixation points on
the campimeter. The subject's field of view is pictured in Fig.
i. She stands at X looking down with the right eye at T.
Starting then from this constant position the eye could be turned
to any desired fixation point. As soon as a fixation had been
taken, the color to be exposed, covered by a gray screen like
the background, was laid over the mirror ; the gray screen was
then taken off and the color shone up through the opening at T

1 Op. dt.

124 HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

and stimulated an eccentric part of the retina. When the
stimulation had lasted the desired time the screen was again
put over the color, thus making with the campimeter a uniform

FIG. i.

gray surface upon which the after-image could be observed.1
The size of the retinal image is thus kept constant throughout
the experiments, /. £., its distance and relative position to the eye
being constant, its absolute area in this case was that of a circle
about i. 08 mm. in diameter.2 Twenty fixation points were used,
the retinal area explored extending from o° — macular vision —
to 93° of eccentricity. These points were all on the nasal merid-
ian of the right eye. The location of the blind-spot was deter-
mined for all subjects and no stimulus allowed to come near
enough to have its effect diminished.

Two plans were followed in regulating the time of exposure
for the stimulus. In the first set of experiments the stimulus
was allowed to remain until the color had completely faded, and
at the spoken signal ' gone ' from the subject the gray screen
was replaced and the subject left to observe the after-image
until it too had completely faded. On the periphery these times
were not long enough to be fatiguing to the subject, but in the
paracentral region the process of waiting for a complete fading
was found somewhat exhausting. The time was, therefore, in
this region limited to 45 seconds (in a few cases to 30 sec.), but
the after-image as before was observed until its complete disap-

1 For further description of apparatus cf. Miss Fernald, loc. cit.

2 Distance from cornea to middle of circular opening in campimeter = 172
mm. ; from anterior surface of cornea to nodal point of eye (after Foster) — 6.7236
mm.; from nodal point to retina = 16.0954 mm. Diameter of color shown =
12 mm.

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 125

pearance. In the second series the time of all exposures was
limited to 3 seconds l and the after-image watched until com-
pletely faded. Between the complete fading of an after-image
and giving a new stimulation an interval of 2 minutes was
given. All times were kept by a stop-watch.2 Colors were
presented in constantly changing order, so that the subject
could not anticipate them.

Judgments of color tone were made with reference to a men-
tal standard, and color names were clearly understood before
the tests began. A little practice showed that it would be con-
venient to distinguish about nine intermediate tones between
neighboring colors, t. e., nine tones between the colors under

each bracket, carmine, red, orange, yellow, green, blue-green,

« i <

green-blue, blue, violet, including only nine gradations between

green and blue. The following abbrevations are used in tabu-
lating results : for carmine, car, orange, or, yellow, yl, green,
gr, blue, bl and for violet, m\ for the intermediate hues, e. g.,
between car and red there is (i) a very slightly reddish car-
mine recorded as — red-car ', (2) a slightly reddish carmine =
red-car •, (3) a reddish carmine s red-car, (4) a decidedly red-
dish carmine = red-car, (5) a color half way between red and
carmine car + red, (6) a decidedly carmine red m car-red and
so on to pure red, the complete series being

car/— red-car/ = red-car/^ red-car/= red-car/car -f red/= car-
red/= car-red/= car-red/— car-red/red.

J Subject B felt somewhat hurried and dissatisfied with so short a time, and
the exposures were in her case lengthened to 4 seconds.

* Since the completion of our work Dr. Baird's monograph ' The Color
Sensitivity of the Peripheral Retina ' has appeared, and in this it is reported,
p. 47, that an interval of 6 minutes was allowed between stimulations. We be-
lieve, however, that for daylight vision our interval of 2 minutes is satisfactory,
and for the following reasons : (i) Our interval was not from the beginning of
one stimulus to the beginning of another, but from the end of a completely faded
after-image to the beginning of the next stimulus, (2) Since we worked in day-
light illumination and with only reflected light from pigment colors it is prob-
able that our stimuli were relatively less intensive, and (3) An additional series
of tests was made in which an interval of 5 minutes was maintained and the re-
sults of these tests are in harmony with our previous results. These last tests
are recorded in Tables XXIV. -XXXII. Subjects were G (Gordon) and F
(Fernald).

126 HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

If, now, a stimulus is given several times at the same fixation
point, and a series of different judgments made, the mean judg-
ment is found in this way ; in the series — car-red, car + red,
=5 car-red, the middle color is ss car-red. The middle varia-
tion must depend upon the position of the three colors in the
series between car and red. According to this the = car-red
is two steps from car -f- red and two steps from — car-red and
the middle variation is then 2.

In the tables on page 135 ff, the stimulus is given at the top
of each table, the first column at the left gives the number of
degrees of eccentricity of the retinal point stimulated, the columns
headed nos. i, 3, 7, 38 and 50 contain the results for the back-
grounds whose brightnesses were those of white, yellow, green,
blue and black respectively. In each of these columns is re-
corded (i) the number of experiments made, (2) the middle
judgment as to what the stimulus color was, i. e., « color seen,'
(3) the middle variation for such judgments, (4) the middle
judgment on the color-tone of the after-image, and (5) the
middle variation for these judgments. In the last ten tables only
one test was made at each point, hence columns (i), (3) and (5)
do not appear.

RESULTS.

I. Extent of the Color Field.

On the darker backgrounds the colors are seen farthest out
in the periphery ; for example, green, Table V., is visible as gr
out to 73.5° on the yl ground, visible as gr + yl to 76.5° on gr
ground, as = gr-yl to 79° on bl ground, and is seen as yl to
87.5° on the gr and bl grounds. No conclusion can be drawn
about the relative extension of blue and yellow, red and green
since we worked with pigment colors varying in their bright-
ness, saturation and purity of color tone.

II. Color Tone of Stimuli as Perceived.
i . Affected by Retinal Location . — At the extreme periphery
all colors looked gray ; next within this zone was a region
where, at least on the dark backgrounds, all colors tended
towards bl and yl^ and within this zone was the region of full
color vision. No indication appeared of the " gegenfarbige

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 127

Zone " of which Hellpach l writes, except in the case of one sub-
ject and here for one color only, i. e., Table XXVI., F saw^r
five times as an unquestioned red. However, this one instance
does not occur in a region outside of the black-white zone as
Hellpach's theory demands.

2. Efect of Background upon Color Tone of Stimulus. —
A given background appears to enhance that color component
in the stimulus which differs the more from itself (the back-
ground) in brightness. Or, for instance, looks = red-or on the
light grounds but a = or-yl on the dark. This tendency of the
background to alter the color tone of the stimulus frequently
works against the tendency above referred to, namely, for all
colors to approach at the periphery either bl or yl; for, as in
Table II. on the light grounds red stays red as long as it is seen
at all, and, Table V- on the light grounds gr stays gr. Up to
this point our work merely repeats and confirms facts which
Miss Fernald has already established.

III. Color Tone of After-images.2

There are at least five factors which must be considered as 1
cooperating to determine the color tone of the after-image.

1. First and most obvious is the color of the stimulus. If
this alone were operative and if it were seen in its proper hue
the after-image would probably be a perfect complementary.

2. A second factor in the color tone of the after-image is its y
retinal location. As an after-image approaches the periphery

it tends to become either bl or yl. Thus in Table II. on the yl
ground although the stimulus red is seen as pure redout to 73°,
yet the after-image which from o° to 49° is =gr-bl is from 49°
to 73° a pure bl. In Table V. ground for yl the stimulus gr is
seen as pure gr out to 73° but the after-image is from o° to 55°
— red-car or car and from 55° it takes on a distinctly more
bluish color. Once more, Table VIII. ground for yl, gr and

1 'Die Farbenwahrnehmung im indirecten Sehen,' Phil. Stud., XV.

2 It was stated above that in one series of tests the stimulus was allowed to
remain exposed until it had completely faded from sight, except that stimuli
lasting as long as 45 seconds were stopped at that time, and that a second series
had the stimuli limited to 3 and 4 seconds duration. This difference in the
stimuli seemed not to affect the color tone of the after-images and the results
of the two series are therefore not entered separately in our tables.

128 HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

bl, the stimulus bl is seen almost without exception as pure bl,
but the after-images, which vary considerably farther in, all
approach pure yl in the periphery. This result agrees with the
experiment recorded by Baird.1

3. Effect of Background on the After-image. — This is a
somewhat complex effect and may be regarded as acting in
three ways.

(a) As we saw above, the background is first operative upon
the stimulus color which it surrounds. To trace, for example,
the career of an after-image of red we must start with the com-
plementary of red which is gr 4- bl. Now on a dark ground
this stimulus looks not red but an or-red, so that we should ex-
pect to find for its after-image not gr + bl but a color shading
more into the bl, a gr-bl then.

(b) But our gr-bl after-image must itself appear upon a dark
ground. The same dark surface surrounds this image which
surrounded the stimulus, and we must assume that its power of
producing a simultaneous contrast effect is still present. This
effect would tend however to bring out the lighter or gr com-
ponent in our after-image thus shifting it back towards gr -f bl
or even bl-gr. Thus factor (a) and factor (b) tend to neutralize
each other. Finally,

(c) The after-image is not merely surrounded by the dark
surface but is being cast upon it and so mixed with the light
which comes from it. Now since the effect of simultaneous
contrast is probably cancelled, as shown above, we may assume
that the two most important determinants of the after-image are
its stimulus color and the amount of light with which the image
is mixed when it is cast upon its background.

The effect of the background then seems to be this ; that in
a colored after-image, that color element is emphasized which
: in brightness approaches the brightness of the background,
that is, on the lighter grounds the brighter element comes out
and on the darker grounds the darker color element. The
transition is nicely illustrated in Table V. at 11.5°. On the
white ground the after-image for gr was = red-car ', on the yl
ground = red-car, on the gr ground == vi-car, on the bl ground
= car-vi, and on the black ground = car-vi. At 59.7° the change

1 Op. cit., pp. 64-65.

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 129

runs car,— vi-car, = vi-car = vi-bl, vi. Not every point exhibits
so regular a transition, but the general distinction between light
and dark grounds remains apparent. It is, perhaps, most strik-
ing in the after-images for bl, since here the stimulus is most
often seen in its true color tone and the change made by the
background is best isolated. The after-image for bl ranges
from = gr-yl and pure yl on the light to =yl-or and even == or-
red on the dark grounds. In Table XXVII. the after-image of
gr-blis pure yl on the yl ground and pure red on the bl ground,
although the stimulus is seen as pure bl in both cases.

The following simple demonstration of this result was suc-
cessful with the few persons upon whom it was tried and is
feasible for a class exercise. The color to be observed was
placed on a gray background which matched it in brightness,
standing beside this were several other backgrounds of different
degrees of brightness. The subject after fixating the color for
about 15 seconds could then throw the after-image upon any
ground desired. In this way the stimulus and the ground
against which it was seen remained constant. A set of judg- j
ments taken in this way was as follows : (i) The after-image
of gr was thrown upon white, i. e., Hering gray no. I, and the
tone was = red-car, (2) Another after-image of gr was thrown
upon no. 7, judgment = red-car, (3) Upon 38, = bl-car and (4)
Upon 50, = bl-car.

IV. Intensity and Distinctness of After-images.

i. Relative vividness of after-image and stimulus. In
general it may be said that the after-images on the light grounds
were about equal in vividness to their stimuli, whereas on the
dark grounds they were less vivid than the stimuli. Moreover
almost all after-images were more difficult to see on the dark
grounds. At the extreme periphery it sometimes happened :

(a) That a stimulus which was clearly seen produced no
after-image. This was most frequently the case on the dark
grounds : there were altogether 136 instances and of these 78
per cent, occurred on the bl and black grounds.

(b) On the other hand there were 118 cases in which a sub-
liminal stimulus produced an after-image which was perfectly

130 HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

distinct in color, and 83 per cent, of these instances occurred on
the grounds for white, yl and gr. That this somewhat unusual
result was not the outcome of imagination or suggestion seems
proved by the fact that these invisible colors gave rise to their
appropriate after-images : thus, Table X., ground yl and gr, the
after-image of an unseen car is = yl-gr, in Table XV. grounds
-white, yl and gr the after-image of unseen bl-gr is car and red,
in Table XVI. the after-image of unseen gr-bl is or and yl.

It appears from these considerations as if the dark back-
grounds which as we saw above tend to enhance the effect of
the stimulus, and extend the color field, tend to do just the
opposite with the after-image, to reduce and suppress it. On
the other hand the light grounds which decrease the effect of
the stimulus tend to enhance the effect of the after-image.

2. Intensity as dependent on retinal location. The after-
images of the paracentral region were more intense than those
in the periphery but not in a very striking degree. All of the
subjects experienced surprise in the after-images of the yellow
spot ; the stimulus seen at o° was at its maximal intensity, but
the after-image was strikingly inferior not only to the intensity
of the stimulus but to the after-images of the paracentral and
even of the peripheral region. They were often faded and
elusive in color tone, and on the bl and black grounds were
sometimes wanting altogether.

V. Color Discrimination in After-images.

1. Color discrimination is sometimes finer in the stimulus
than in the after-image. Red, or and yl, although clearly dis-
tinguished as stimuli may give rise to after-images of the same
color tone, e. g., in Tables II., III. and IV. ground for yl from
63° outward red is seen as red, or is seen as = red-or and yl
is seen as = or-yl or pure yl, i. e., the three though not seen
in their pure tones are nevertheless different from one another,
but all of them give for their after-images pure bl. Similarly
on the bl ground red seen as = or-red or = red-or, or seen as or
or = or-yl, and yl seen as yl all give rise to bl after-images.

2. Again, color discrimination is sometimes finer in the after-
images than in the stimulus. Thus, Tables XIV. and XV. yl

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 131

ground, from 59° outwards gr and bl-gr are both seen as
pure gr, but the after-images are car or = vi-car for the gr
but = red-car for the bl-gr. Again, the stimuli gr-bl, bl and vt
are all seen in the periphery as pure £/, but their after-images
are distinguished in Tables VII. , VIII. and IX. on the bl
ground where the peripheral after-image for gr-bl lies between
red and or, for bl between or and yl, and for vt it is mostly
-gr-yl.

It seems from these facts that finer discriminations are made
in the colors of the red-yl end of the spectrum whether those
colors appear as stimuli or as after-images, whereas the colors
of thegr-£/ end tend towards uniformity whether in stimulus or
after-image.

VI. Duration of After -images.

The duration of after-images proved to be so variable that
the number of our tests is not sufficient to make a quantitative
statement very reliable. The following points, however, are to
be noted :

1. At the peripheral limits of color the stimulus and after-
image both appear as momentary flashes.

2. The duration both of stimulus and after-image gradually
increases as the center is approached. This is also true of the
after-image independently of the duration of the stimulus ; for
in the tests where the length of exposure of jjthe stimulus was
limited the after-images increased in duration as they came
nearer the center.

3. At the fovea the after-images were frequently briefer
than in the paracentral region and occasionally were altogether
wanting, as reported above.

4. There appears to be some correspondence between the
duration of the stimulus and of the after-image, but this is not a
simple ratio for though the longer stimulus often gives the
longer after-image yet : (a) a brief stimulus, except at the ex-
treme periphery, gives rise to an after-image longer than the
stimulus, but (d) a long stimulus frequently occasions an after-
image shorter than the stimulus. Thus a stimulus of 3 seconds
produces an after-image of from about 4 to 10 seconds whereas

132 HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

a stimulus lasting upwards of 20 seconds gives usually after-
images ranging between about TO and 25 seconds.1

5. Where the duration of the stimulus is constant the dura-
tion of the after-image is likely to be slightly longer on the light
grounds than on the dark.

VII. Alterations in the After-image During the Process

of Fading.

1. After-images decrease in saturation, while in brightness
they seem gradually to approach the brightness of the back-
ground on which they are seen.

2. Changes in color tone occur sometimes though by no
means always.2 The commonest of these changes were red
passing through or and yl to gray, and or and gr passing
through yl to gray.

3. Fluctuations between same and other colored phases
occurred with 24 of B's after-images, Table XXXIII. shows the
distribution of this phenomenon. The colors which oscillated
were usually gr and car. These fluctuations did not occur
where there had been a long exposure of the stimulus, but were
the result in every case of stimuli which had been limited to 3
or 4 seconds' duration.

VIII. Minor Observations.

1. An accidental interruption one day gave this result with
subject B. An after-image had just faded out and B was saying
* gone ' when a metronome was started in the adjoining room.
Immediately the color flashed into the after-image again, and
returned rhythmically with every stroke of the metronome for
several seconds.

2. Subject B sometimes found that the after-image was not
limited in area by the size of the stimulus, but in the case of car
after-images the color would spread out and occasionally flood
the whole field of vision.

3. Subjects T and G sometimes experienced a splitting up
of the component colors in an after-image, i. <?., yl at about 70°

1 These numbers hold for T, G and F, not for B whose color processes were
uncommonly long.

2 In our tables we have entered always the first stage of such after-images.

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 133

frequently looked to be or and gr at the same time. The sub-
jects did not at these times see pure yl at all but what appeared
as or and gr occupying the same space at the same time.

IX. Theoretical.

We have only the following two points to make :
i. It is possible with the light-adapted eye to arouse periph-
eral after-images. Our records show upwards of 4,500 tests
ranging from o° to 93° on the retina. Investigators who have
worked in the dark room find that after-images are very diffi-
cult to observe and that they do not occur much beyond
40° eccentricity. In agreement with these two groups of
facts are the relative results which we obtained on the light
and dark backgrounds, where we found that the lighter
were more favorable to the appearance of the after-images.
Now these facts all indicate that the presence of white light is
necessary to the production of the after-image on the peripheral
part of the retina. The best explanation for this seems to us to
be possible upon the Ladd-Franklin * theory of color vision. It
is assumed by this theory that after-images are due to the suc-
cessive phases of break-down in a color molecule. A ray of
light, say blue, tears out the blue component of the molecule

OG

leaving the remaining elements green and red in a state of
such instability that they subsequently fall to pieces and thus
give rise to the after-image sensation of yellow. May we not
suppose that in the central and paracentral region, which all
agree are more sensitive, the color molecules are more unstable
than in the peripheral region, so that in the central zone the
shattered molecules will sometimes fall to pieces without any
further external stimulus, thus giving rise to the colored after-
images which are sometimes seen in dark-adapted vision. The
peripheral molecule, on the contrary, we may assume to be less
easily decomposed, and after a stimulus has been given, to need
1 Mind, N. S., Vol. 2 ; PSY. REV., Vol. 6, etc.

134 HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

the added excitation of white light to break down the residual
portion and so give the after-image.

It is difficult to see what the explanation would be upon the
Hering theory, for we should have to suppose that after-images
caused by an assimilation process are enhanced by the addition
of white light which stimulates a dissimilation process. More-
over one might fairly expect on the basis of either the Hering
or Miiller theory that the antagonistic color process, if it is initi-
ated by the retina, could take place as well in the dark as in
the light.

2. It was stated above, under II., that that component of a
stimulus is emphasized which varies more from the brightness
of the background; under III. it was stated that the component
of an after-image was emphasized which approached the back-
ground in brightness. These two observations are simply two
illustrations of the same phenomenon, i. £., the tendency to
interpret certain degrees of brightness in terms of certain color
tones. A stimulus shown on a dark ground is being mixed
with white by simultaneous contrast, whereas an after-image in
order to be mixed with white light must be shown on a light
background. The tables show that stimuli exposed on dark
grounds and after-images cast on light grounds tend to have
their lighter color components brought out, but that stimuli
shown on light, and after-images on dark grounds tend to have
the dark color element come out. These facts are of interest
in connection with the case of pseudo-chromaesthesia reported
by Professor Martin.1 A black and white picture was shown to
her subject but it appeared colored, the masses of shadow being
purplish and the masses of light being yellowish.2

1 PSYCH. REV., XIII., No. 3, Fechner number.

2 The MS. of this article was received July 14, 1906. — ED.

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 135

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d

1

.

(fi

to

a

.

£

a*

II

H

.2

1

.2

$

I

•

•~

|

1

3

a

o

11

c

1

"3

•n

C

3

<4H

o

3

rt

•n

3

rt

e

|

rt
•fi

1

1

o

"o

jj

a

gj

6

O

5

<£

»-

o

3

&

d

fc

o

<

%

u

o

3

93°

9^-5

I

none

none

87-5

I

none

none

84-5

I

bl

yi

I

bl

none

82

I

bl

yi

I

bl

none

79

I

none

none

2

bl

0

= gryl

4

I

car

bl?

76.5

I

none

none

3

bl

o

0

73-5

I

car

= gryl

2

car + vi

15

yl + gr

5

I

§= vi car

= gryl

71

I

ss car vi

gr

I

car

yi

68.5

2

car

o

gr

10

bl

—gryl

2

car

0

gr

0

66

2

— rd cr

1.5

= blgr

o

vi

2

— rd car

1.5

gr

o

63.2

2

car + vi

— gryl

o

s= car vi

= gryl

4

car

0

gr

I

59-7

3

= vi car

3

Hi gryl

o

= vi car

gr

I

car

gr

55

3

= vi car

i

= ylgr

0

= car vi

gr

2

— rd car

I

gr

0

49

2

— vi car

i-5

gr

0

ss car vi

gr

2

car

0

gr

0

41.2

2

— vi car

1-5

=ylgr

•5

3

= vi car

o

=Eylgr

o

2

= rd car

T

gr

0

31

2

= vi car

•5

gr

0

3

= vi car

0

0

2

= rd car

I

gr

0

20.5

2

car

3

gr

2.5

i

— rd car

— ylgr

2

— rd car

1.5

gr

0

11 -5

2

§=. vi car

i

gr

0

i

car

== ylgr

I

car

gr

o

2

car

0

gr

0

i

car

gr

I

— rdcar

gr

STIMULUS — RED.

93°

8°J

I

light

dark

84-5

i

none

none

i

= yl or

bl

I

yi

bl

82

i

none

none

i

none

none

I

= yl or

bl

79

i

dark

bl

3

^ or red

4

bl

0

76.5

2

= or red

0

bl

0

i

red

bl

73-5

I

= or red

bl

i

= or red

bl

I

ss red or

bl

I

= or red

bl

2

— or red

j r

bl

o

I

33 or red

bl

68.5

3

= or red

i

bl

0

I

= or red

= grbl

I

= carrd

bl

66

2

= or red

-grbl

1.5

2

= or red

•5

bl

0

2

red

3

-grbl

I

63.2

2

= or red

2

bl

0

I

= or red

bl

2

33 or red

2

-grbl

i

59-7

3

= or red

0

bl

0

I

= or red

bl

2

= or red

0

—grbl i

55

3

= or red

0

gr + bl

2

I

=or'red

bl

2

= or red

0

= grbl o

49-2

4

= or red

•5

Hi grbl

1.5

I

red

gr+bl

3

= or red

0

gr + bl

2

41.2

2

— or red

1-5

= blgr

I

I

= or red

=blgr

2

= or red

•5

gr + bl

2

2

— or red

o

-=blgr

•5

I

s= or red

=blgr

2

= or red

•5

•5

20.5

2

— or red

I

= blgr

o

I

= or red

=blgr

2

— or red

i

= blgr

o

"•5

I

= or red

gr + bl

I

s= red or

=blgr

3

= or red

o

= blgr

I

0

2

red

0

= blgr

i

I

red

=blgr

I

red

^grbl

HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

TABLE XX.

SUBJECT B. — STIMULUS — ORANGE.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

11

I

I

j

1

|

I

1

d
_o

d

bo

1

1

ri

I

1

|

1

n
.2

i]

o
6

^O

A

M

I

rt

'i

o

JD

.2

D

.2
1

o

6

1

1

ji

<a

1

^

°

<

*

U

^

93°

I

yl?

none

90.5

none

none

I

yl

bl

87.5

dark

light

I

yl

none

84-5

dark

light

I

none

bl

I

= yl or

bl

82

= red or

4

bl

0

I

= or red

bl

I

= or yl

bl

79

= or red

bl

I

= or yl

bl

76.5

= or red

bl

I

= or red

bl

73-5

= or red

bl

I

= red or

bl

I

— or yl

bl

71

= or red

bl

2

— red or

1.5

bl

0

I

= red or

bl

68.5

2

or + red

3

-grbl

I

I

ss red or

bl

I

= red or

bl

66

2

= or red

0

bl

o

I

= or red

==blgr

I

^ or red

= grbl

63-2
59-7

2
2

ss or red
— or red

0

'•5

bl
—grbl

o

I

1
I

= or red
= red or

—grbl
bl

3

2

= or red

ss or red

0
0

-grbl
-grbl

i
I

55

2

= or red

2-5

-grbl

.5

I

— : red or

bl

2

ss red or

I<5

-grbl

I

49

3

= red or

I

gr + bl

I

I

s=yl or

bl

2

= red or

2.5

= grbl

i

41.2

2

or + red

2

3-5

I

= or red

gr + bl

2

m red or

2.5

==grbl

o

2

= red or

3-5

g~r + bl

2

I

or

gr + bl

2

= red or

4-5

= grbl

0

20.5

I

= red or

I

= yl or

-grbl

3

— yl or

o

= grbl

0

II-5

0

3

2

= or red
= red or

o

o

= grbl
-grbl

3
1-5

I
I

= red or
or

= grbl

i

2

— or red
or

0

^blgr
^grbl

.5

STIMULUS — YELLOW.

93°

I

yi

bl

90.5

none

none

87.5

yl?

none

I

yi

bl

84.5

none

bl

o

i

= oryl

bl

82

= or yl

bl

i

— gryl

bl

79

33 or red

bl

2

= yl or

6

bl

0

76.5

= red or

bl

==yl or

bl

73-5

— red or

bl

= yl or

-grbl

i

yi

bl

= or yl

=grbl

i

yi

bl

68.5

2

or

3

bl

0

= or yl

vi

I

yi

bl?

66

2

or + red

2

bl

0

= yl or

-grbl

2

i

bl

0

63.2

3

or

2

bl

o

= or yl

bl

2

—gryl

1.5

bl

o

59-7

3

or

I

bl

o

= yl or

-grbl

2

yi

•5

bl

0

55

3

yl + or

2

bl

0

or

bl

2

yi

o

-grbl

I

49

3

s=yl or

O

-grbl

0

= yl or

— grbl

2

yi

o

-grbl

I

41.2

2

= yl or

O

—grbl

J-5

= or yl

bl

2

yi

0

— vibl

!-5

2

= oryl

0

bl

o

yl + or

bl

2

yi

0

— vibl

2

20.5

3

= gryl

0

=vi bl

i

= or yl

bl

3

yi

0

bl

O

"•5

2

yi

2-5

bl

0

= or yl

bl

2

yi

o

— vibl

I r

o

2

—gryl

— vibl

I

yi

bl

I

yi

= vibl

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA.

155

TABLE XXI.

SUBJECT B. — STIMULUS — GREEN.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

||

I

H

i

d
.2

CO

|

d

ui

H

d

§

!

d

oJ
H

1

1

1

g

"o

i

."s

cO

j!

rt
'C

CO

o

I

1

1

1

1

I

I

1

1

I

93°

I

light

none

90-5

I

yl?

dark

87-5

none

none

I

yi

none

84.5

= oryl

none

I

yi

bl

I

yi

none

82

none

none

I

yi

bl

I

yi

none

79

= or yl

bl

2

—gryl

I-5

bl

0

76.5

dark

bl

I

= ylgr

bl

I

— gryl

none

73-5

yl

vi

I

vi

I

bl

£

3

-ylgr

2

= cr vi
car

0

-y^gr

bl
=cr vi

I
2

—gryl

0

bl
vi

0

66
63.2

2
2

-blfr
— ylgr

1-5

2

car

0
0

= ylgr

= cr vi
vi

2

2

—gryl

1-5
o

==vi cr
— vi cr

0

59-7

3

— ylgr

2

car

0

yi+gr

= vicr

2

—gryl

•5

= cr vi

i

55
49
41.2

3
4
3

2

— blgr

-ygirgr

3

2.5

I

2

car
car
car
— rdcr

0
I
I

1-5

yi
-ygirgr

.5

= crrd
— vi cr

-5

2
2

3
2

= gryl
= ylgr
nylgr

o
i

0

i

= vi cr

cr-f-vi
cr-j-vi
= vi cr

I
5
5

3-5

20.5
11.5

2
2

-ylgr
—blgr

0

I

— rdcr
— rd cr

—ylgr

= vi cr
= vicr

2

2

— ylgr

—ylgr

1-5

i

car
car

o

0

o

2

-blgr

I

car

0

2

gr

0

car

•5

I

=yigr

cr-fvi

STIMULUS — BLUE-GREEN.

93°

90.5

87.5

84-5

bl

none

i

bl?

none

82

none

none

i

bl

none

79

i

none

none

none

none

76.5

i

dark

bl?

none

none

I

bl

none

73-5

i

dark

bl?

gr

car

i

bl?

none

— yi gr

= ylor

i

bl

car

68.5

i

^grbl

vi

= bl gr

car

66

2

0

— vi cr

1.5

gr

= rdcr

2

— ylgr

8-5

car

0

63.2

2

gr

3

— vi cr

1-5

car

2

6-5

=rdcr

2-5

59-7

3

= bl gr

2

car

o

none

^crrd

I

= yl gr

red

55

2

=bl gr

i-5

= rdcr

•5

gr

= cr vi

2

= bl gr

5

car

0

49

3

— blgr

2

= cr rd

3

= vicr

2

-blgr

4-5

= crrd

4-5

41.2

3

—blgr

I

— rdcr

i

gr

car

2

—ylgr

i

car

0

20.5

2
2

-blgr
=blgr

•5
•5

— rdcr
= rdcr

1-5
•5

-ygirgr

•5

s=rdcr
— vicr

i

2

2

-bTgr

0

1-5

= crrd
— rdcr

5-5
5

2

-blgr

.5

=rdcr

•5

= bl gr

= rdcr

I

= bl gr

= crrd

0

2

gr+bl

o

= cr rd

4-5

gr

Hscrrd

2

—blgr

1.5

=rdcr

5-5

HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

TABLE XXII.

SUBJECT B. — STIMULUS — GREEN-BLUE.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

||

I

1

1

1

I

I

1

a

i

I

I

Tests.

I

I

i

i

11

•3

0

o

3

•§

rt

1

a

IM

O

6

1

1

"rt

'£

f>

"3

*o

1

1

i

fc

U

•4

fc

°

<

^

o

5

93°

90-5

87.5

bl

none

84-5

I

-grbl

= oryl

bl

none

82

I

bl

— oryl

bl

none

79

I

bl

yl

2

bl

0

yi

o

76.5

I

none

= oryl

bl

= yl or

bl

— orrd

73-5

2

bl

O

— oryl

I

bl

= rdor

bl

— orrd

2

bl?

O

— rdor

I r

bl

or

bl

=orrd

68.5

3

bl

0

= ylor

4

bl

==oryl

bl

or

66

2

-grbl

I

==ylor

0

bl

yi

2

bl

0

or + rd

2

63-2

2

bl

0

yl+or

2

bl

=oryl

2

bl

0

or

O

59-7

2

bl

o

•5

bl

— oryl

2

bl

o

= yl or

4

55

2

— grbi

I

= rdor

•5

bl

==oryl

2

bl

0

= ylor

4

49

4

= grbl

I

= rdor

o

bl

or

2

bl

0

or

3

41.2

4

=grbl

.5

— rdor

•5

bl

= oryl

2

-grbl

I

ssrdor

o

31

2

0

= orrd

4

= gr bl

= ylor

3

bl

0

— rdor

o

20.5

2

= gr bl

0

— rdor

i

gr + bl

= rdor

I

gr+bl

= rdor

"•5

2

= gr bl

•5

— rdor

•5

gr + bl

= rd or

I

= gr bl

= orrd

o

2

-grbl

•5

= rdor

i

= grbl

= rdor

3

= grbl

0

red

0

STIMULUS — BLUE.

93°

2

none

none

9°-5

i

none

none

1

bl

none

87.5

i

dark

light

i

dark

= oryl

I

bl

none

84-5

2

bl

0

= yl

0

I

bl

yi

I

bl

= oryl

82

i

bl

—oryl

I

bl

= ylor

79

2

bl

0

— oryl

i

I

bl

— gryl

76-5

I

bl

= oryl

i

bl

yi

73-5

I

bl

yi

i

vi

yi

I

bl

==rdor

7i

I

bl

yi

2

bl

0

yi

o

68.5

2

bl

0

yi

0

2

bl

o

— gryl

i-5

2

bl

0

— ylor

I

66

2

bl

o

— gryl

0

I

bl

= oryl

2

bl

0

==rdor

0

63.2

2

bl

o

yi

1.5

I

bl

= oryl

2

bl

0

yl + or

5

59-7

3

bl

0

= gryl

o

I

bl

= oryl

2

bl

0

— oryl

i

55

3

bl

0

= gryl

I

I

bl

yi

2

-grbl

I

= oryl

3-5

49

5

bl

0

= gryl

I

I

bl

—oryl

2

-grbl

i-5

= oryl

0

41.2

3

bl

o

= gryl

I

I

= blvi

=gryl

I

bl

— oryl

3i

2

= vibl

3-5

= gryl

1-5

I

bl

yi

2

-grbl

1-5

^oryl

3-5

20.5

2

vi

0

= ylgr

o

I

= bl vi

= gryl

2

-grbl

1-5

— oryl

2

H-5

2

bl

0

— gryl

•5

I

bl

yi

2

= grbl

o

= ylor

I

0

2

bl

0

yi

•5

2

bl

0

yi

0

2

bl

o

— oryl

I

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA.

'57

TABLE XXIII.

SUBJECT B. — STIMULUS — VIOLET.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

.2

.

4J

3

.

*;

5

«;

l|

i

1

a
.2

1

i

§

1

1

1

CO

§

1

1

1

1

I

is

o

•g

M

1

"o

g

te
'C

l-t
b

1

"3

o

1

1

Cd ^

i4

i

U

CO

y

«

i

i

at

£

9

1

jf

O

o

CB

1

cd

93°

90-5

I

bl

= ory?

87.5

dark

none

I

bl

none

84.5

dark

yl?

bl

yi

I

bl

= oryl

82

bl

yi

bl

= oryl

I

bl

= oryl

79

bl

yi

bl

yi

76.5

bl

yi

bl

yi

I

bl

— rdor

73-5

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

yi

I

bl

— ylor

68.5

5

bl

0

yi

0

bl

yi

2

bl

O

= oryl

2

66

2

bl

0

yi

0

bl

O

yi

o

2

— vibl

2.5

yi

•5

63.2

3

bl

0

yi

0

bl

—gryl

I

bl

=gryl

59-7

2

bl

0

—gryl

.5

bl

yi

3

bl

o

= gryl

o

55

3

bl

0

=gryl

0

bl

yi

2

bl

o

•5

49

5

bl

0

0

bl

O

yi

0

2

= vibl

I

-fryl

1.5

41.2

3

vi

0

= gryl

0

— car vi

I

= gryl

o

2

= bl vi

6.5

yi

.5

31

2

— car vi

1.5

yi+gr

2

vi

2

— blvi

8.5

=gryl

i

20.5

2

vi

3

= ylgr

0

vi

^ylgr

I

vi

— gryl

11.5

2

— car vi

I

sylgr

3-5

vi

=gryl

2

vi

0

= ylgr

i

0

2

vi

0

= gryl

•5

=s car vi

= gryl

2

vi

o

= ylgr

•5

i58

HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

TABLE XXIV.

SUBJECT F. — STIMULUS — CARMINE.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

j

1

1

n

B

§

a

1

11

f

1

"
o

1

V
CO

3

3

1

3

1

I

1

93°

90.5

87.5

84-5

82

dark

light

79

red?

yi

76.5

dark

yi

73-5

dark

car

dark

dark

none

= car vi

dark

68.5
66

red
red?

light
light

= car red
car

light
light

^carvi
car + vi

bl?
dark

63.2
59-7

red
red

light
light

car
dark

light

car
car

=gryl

55

vi

yl

= red car

light

car

=ylgr

49

car

=gr yl

= vi car

=yigr

=red car

— ylgr

41.2

car

="ylgr

=vi car

= yl gr

car

31

car

gr

car

=yigr

car

gr

20.5

car

— yl gr

car

car

gr

"•5

0

s= red car
car

=yigr

—red car
car

—ylgr

car
car

Ir

STIMULUS — RED.

93°

90-5

87.5

84-5

82
79

dark
or -f red

Hg.

76.5

red

bl

red

bl

73-5

red

bl

— red or

bl

71

red

bl

red

bl

red

bl

68.5

=or red

bl

red

bl

red

bl

66

=or red

bl

red

bl

= red or

bl

63.2

red

bl

— or red

bl

= or red

bl

59-7

red

bl

red

bl?

=or red

bl

55

=or red

bl

=or red

bl?

= or red

bl

49
41.2

red
=or red

Hght

=or red
red

bl
bl

=or red
or

bl
= grbl

3i

red

= grbl

red

bl

= red or

= grbl

20.5
n-5

0

=or red
red
red

= grbl
^blgr
=gr bl

—or red
red
= or red

= blgr
= blgr
none

=or red
or

= or red

= grbl
= grbl
gr + bl

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 159

TABLE XXV.

SUBJECT F. — STIMULUS — ORANGE.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

•38

g

&

g

1

d

V

1

11

$

1

</)

i

fl

«2

I

3

1

1

1

1

93°

90-5

87.5

84.5

82

79

=red or

bl

76.5

73-5

= red or

bl

— yl or

bl

= red or

bl

m red or

bl

=red or

bl

68.5

=red or

bl

= red or

bl

= red or

bl

r 66

or

bl

or

bl

yi

bl

63.2

= or red

bl

or

bl

= red or

bl

59-7

or

bl

= or red

bl

or

bl

55

=red or

bl

or

bl

= yl or

bl

49

or

bl

=n= red or

bl

or

bl

41.2

= red or

bl

=red or

bl

=yl or

bl

or

= gr bl

= red or

— grbl

or

zzrgr bl

20.5

0

or

= red or
or

= grbl
gr + bl
bl

= red or
or
= red or

= grbl
gr + bl
none

or
or
or

= grbl
= grbl
=grbl

STIMULUS — YELLOW,

93°

90.5

87.5

84-5

dark?

light

82

or

bl

79

=oryl

bl

765

yl + or

bl

yi

w

73-5

— yl or

bl

= yl or

bl

or

bl

yi

bi

el's

= or yl

bl

or

bl

yi

bl

66

= or yl

bl

=or yl

bl

— or yl

bl

63.2

= yl or

bl

or

bl

yi

bl

59-7

= red or

bl

or

bl

yi

bl

55

or

bl

=oryl

bl

yi

bl

49

or

bl

— yl or

bl

yi

bl

41.2

or

bl

or

bl

yi

bl

31

^oryl

bl

or

bl

— or yl

bl

20.5
11.5

=or yl
— or yl

bl
bl

^oryl
or

bl
bl

— or yl

yi

bl
bl

0

yi

bl?

ssylor

bl

yi

none

i6o

HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

TABLE XXVI.

SUBJECT F. — STIMULUS — GREEN.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

d

£

j

L

d

&

I!

- #

1

<B

1

1

1

i

11

1

M
Vi

if

fM

1

1

1

u

s

U

3

°

<

93°

Vi

84.5

82

or?

bl?

79

dark

bl

765

red

bl

yi

bl

73-5

red red

blbl

yi

none

71
68.5

red red
= or red ?

blbl
bl

= or yl

yi

bl
bl

i

none
bl

66

yi

bl

yi

bl

yi

none

63.2

= ylor

bl

or

bl

yi

bl

59-7

gr

none

_yi i

bl

yi

bl

55

gr

vi?

bl

yi

s vi car

49

car

—yigr

= vi car

yi

car

41.2

gr

car

— yigr

car

yi

svibl

31

gr

car

car

— yigr

— vi'car

20.5

gr

car

—yigr

car

gr

=vi car

u.5

gr

car

gr

car

gr

— vi car

0

gr

car

gr

car

gr

red

STIMULUS — BLUE-GREEN.

93°

90-5

87.5

84-5

82

79

yl?

bl?

76.5

73-5

dark

light

dark

light

light

none

68.5
66

dark
dark

light
light

= blgr

dark

=or red
car

light
light

dark
dark

63.2

dark

light

dark

none

light

red

59-7

dark

light

dark

none

55

= blgr

car

gr

car

gr?

dark

49

gr

car

—yigr

car

gr-fbl

red

41.2

-blgr

car

gr

car

= blgr

red

— bl gr

car

gr

car

= blgr

car

20.5

== blgr

= red car

-blgr

car

=blgr

—red car

u.5

gr

car

gr

car

= bl gr

== car red

o

^blgr?

car

gr

car

-blgr

car

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA.

161

TABLE XXVII.

SUBJECT F. — STIMULUS — GREEN-BLUE.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

d

«

d

1

d

1

!§

a«

1

1

1

B
G

CO

1

11

J3

D

J3

1

h

K--T

*O

o

3

o

<

0

5

93°

90-5

87-5

84.5

82

79

dark

yi

76.5

bl

73-5

bl

yi

bl

red

bl

yi

68*5

bl

yi

o

yi

bl

red

66

bl

yi

bl

yi

63.2
59-7

bl
bl

-grbl
bl

=oryl

yi

bl
bl

red
red

55

bl

yi

bl

= or yl

bl

red

49

bl

yi

bl

=or yl

bl

= or red

41.2

bl

= or yl

—grbl

-oryl

bl

red

= grbl

= red car

= gr bl

= yl or

— grbl

=orred

20.5

= gr bl

= red car

= grbl

=or red

— gr bl

or 4- red

«. 5

-grbl

= or red

— gr bl

= or red

= gr bl

=or red

0

==grbl

car

— grbl

car

STIMULUS — BLUE.

93°

90.5

87.5

84-5

dark

light

82

bl

yl

79

bl

=or yl

76.5

bl

yi

bl

yi

73-5

bl

yi

bl

bl

yi

bl

yi

68Z5

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

= red or

66

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

s= or red

63-2

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

— yl or

59-7

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

yi

55

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

53 red or

49

bl

yi

bl

=gryl

bl

red?

41.2

bl

yi

bl

-gryl

bl

=or yl

bl

yi

bl

=gr yl

bl

==gr yl

20.5

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

— gr yl

"•5

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

= yl or

0

vi

=vibl

yi

162 HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

TABLE XXVIII.

SUBJECT F. — STIMULUS — VIOLET.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

d

«

1

d

1

g

1

Q .2

<»

1

OB

a

ID

i

il

1

1

I

1

1

|

93°

84.5
82

79

bl

yi

76.5

bl

yi

73-5

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

— or yl

bl

— or red

£

bl

yi

bl

yi

bl

yi

66

bl

yi

bl

yi

63.2

bl

— or yl

bl

yi

59-7
55

bl
bl

=gryl
yi

bl
bl

yi

bl
bl

==gryl

yi

49

bl

yi

bl

— gr yi

bl

=yigr

41.2

bl

yi

bl

= gryl

bl

-ylgr

20.5

vi
vi

yi+gr
=gryi

~bl

yi-f-gr

= gryl

bl
bl

= ylgr

H-5

vi

= ylgr

vi

bl

yi+gr

0

vi

==vibl

gr

SUBJECT G. — STIMULUS — CARMINE.

93°

90-5
87.5

dark
dark

light
light

light
light

dark
dark

84.5

dark

light

light

dark

82

dark

light

car

dark

79

dark

light

—red car

dark

76.5

dark

= gryl

= red car

dark

73-5

dark

— gryl

car

gr

7i

dark

yi

car

gr

68.5

dark

=ylgr

car

gr

66

car

=ylgr

car

gr

63.2
59-7

car
car

= ylgr
=ylgr

car
car

S

55

car

— ylgr

car

gr

49

car

gr

car

gr

41.2

=vi car

—ylgr

car

gr

3i

car

gr

20.5

car

gr

car

gr

ii-5

car

gr

car

gr

0

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA.

I63

TABLE XXIX.

SUBJECT G. — STIMULUS — RED.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

11

i

i

f

1

V

H

3

S

£

1

fl

I

3

1

1

r*

I

1

i

93°

m

dark
dark

light
light

light

or

bl

84.5
82

dark

light
light

= or yl

gr

79

red

bl

yl + or

gr

76.5

red

bl

or

-grbl

73-5

red

bl

= or red

-grbl

7i

— or red

-grbl

= or red

bl

• 68.5

red

bi

= or red

-grbl

66

red

bl

= or red

-grbl

63.2

red

bl

= or red

-grbl

59-7

red

bl

— or red

-grbl

55

=or red

bl

= or red

= grbl

49

red

=grbl

= car red

= gr bl

41.2

red

-grbl

= or red

gr + bl

31

red

-grbl

= or red

— grbl

20.5

red

gr + bl

red

— gr bl

n.5

=or red

— blgr

— or red

gr + bl

0

STIMULUS — ORANGE ,

93°

none

none

yl

bl

87 5

yi

bl

84.5

or

bl

yi

bl

82

or

bl

yi

bl

79

= red or

bl

or

bl

76.5

= red or

bl

or

bl

73-5

or

bl

or

bl

= or red

bl

= orvl

bl

68*5

= red or

— vibl

= red or

bl

66

or

bl

= or red

— grb-

63.2

or

bl

or

bl

59-7

or

— grbl

= yl or

= vibl

55

or

— grbl

= red or

— grbl

49

or

-grbl

= or red

-grbl

41.2

or

-grbl

33 red or

-grbl

31

or

bl

or

-grbl

20.5

or

-grbl

or

gr + bl

n-5

or

— blgr

or

S3 grbl

0

164

HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

TABLE XXX.

SUBJECT G,

STIMULUS — YELLOW.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

-- n

a

1

d

|

g

i

11

OJ

i

&

2

1

s§

|

ID

s

V

o

w

3

a

i

"3

u

5

a

<

93°

9°-5

light

bl

87.5

or

bl

yi

bl

84.5

= yl or

bl

yi

bl

82

or

bl

yi

bl

79

yi

bl

yi

bl

76.5

= yl or

bl

yi

bl

73-5

yi

bl

yi

bl

yl + or

bl

yi

bl

6?S

= or yl

bl

yi

bl

66

or

bl

yi

bl

63.2

yi

bl

yi

= vibl

59-7

=or yl

bl

yi

bl

55

yi

bl

yi

bl

49

— yl or

bl

yi

bl + vi

41.2

yl + or

=vibl

yi

none

= or yl

bl

yi

==bl vi

20.5

yi

=vi bl

yi

bl

yi

=vibl

yi

= vi bl

0

STIMULUS — GREEN,

93°

90.5

none

none

light

none

87-5

dark

light

light

dark

84.5
82

dark

light
— vi car

y?

yi

none
bl

79

dfrk

bl

yi

none

76.5

yl?

bl

yi

none

73-5
7i

-fryl

vi
bl

= gryl

yi

none
bl

68.5

— yl or

car

=gryl

= car vi

66

gr

vi

—gryl

=bl vi

63.2

gr

= red car

= ylgr

=vi car

59-7

— ylgr

=vi car

= car vi

55

car

=ylgr

=bl vi

49

gr

— red car

=vi car

41.2

gr

— vi car

yi+gr

car + vi

3^

gr

=vi car

= car vi

20.5

gr

car

gr

vi

gr

= vi car

gr

33 car vi

0

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA.

I65

TABLE XXXI.

SUBJECT G. — STIMULUS — BLUE-GREEN.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

a

6

,

£

d

1

11

i

f

1

I

1

i

t3 5

o

1

i

i,

Ll

o

*

§

sS

§

£

3

1

93°

9°-5

light

dark

87-5

dark

none

light

dark

84-5

light

dark

82

dark

light

light

?

79

dark

light

light

car

76-5

gr

red

light

— car red

73-5

dark

car ?
none

light
light

dark
= red car?

68.5

none

red?

gr ?

red

66
63.2

—bfgr

red
or

bl

red

59-7
55

—bfgr

— car red
—car red

light
==blgr

ss red car
car

49

-blgr

33 red car

= bl gr

car

41.2

-bfgr

33 red car
red -f- car

= blgr

car

ss vi car

20.5

-^~bl gr

car

= blgr

33 vi car

11.5

-blgr

ss red car

= blgr

=svi car

0

STIMULUS — GREEN-BLUE.

93°

tt

dark

light

light
light

none
dark

84-5

dark

none

light

33 red or

82

bl

— or yl

-grbl

= or red

79

bl

= yl or

bl

red?

76.5

dark

yi

light

red

73-5

bl

— oryl

bl

33 red or

dark

— or yl

bl

red

68*5

bl

yl-fgr

bl

=• or red

66

== gr bl

= yl or

bl

ss or red

63.2

bl

or

bl

= or red

59-7

bl

or

bl

— or red

55
49

—grbl
-grbl

or
= or yl

bl
—grbl

red

ss or red

41.2

-grbl

or

= bl gr

— or red

3i

ss grbl

or

= grbl

ss or red

20.5

= grbl

or

35 gr bl

33 or red

M.5

33 grbl

or

= gr bl

— or red

o

1 66

HELEN B. THOMPSON AND KATE GORDON.

TABLE XXXII.

SUBJECT G. — STIMULUS — BLUE.

Background. 3 (Yellow).

7 (Green).

38 (Blue).

j

&

c

1

d

»

11

1

3

1

I

s

i

il

1

1

&

d

1

!

1

93°

9°-5

gr?

light

none

none

87-5
84-5

dark
dark

yi

bl
bl

=or yl
= red or

82

dark

— or yl

bl

or

79

dark

=sor yl

bl

= or red

76.5

bl

— gryl

bl

r-d

73-5

— vibl

= gryl

bl

= or red

dark

*

bl 1

= red or

'

^

= gryl

68.5

bl

yi

bl

red

66

bl

= yl or

bl

= or red

63.2

bl

— gr yl

bl

= or red

59-7
55

bl
bl

= gryl

yi

bl
bl

= red or

49

bl

= gr yl

bl

^ or yl

41.2

bl

— or yl

bl

= red or

= bl vi

= ylgr

bl

yl-f or

20.5

bl

yl -for

H.5

bl

yi

= grbl

= or yl

0

STIMULUS — VIOLET.

93°

90-5

bl

yi

87.5

none

==or yl

84-5

dark

light

bl

— yl or

82
79

bl
dark

yi

= yl or

bl
bl

= red or
or

76.5

dark

yi

bl

yi

73-5

dark

— or yl

bl

yi

7i

dark

= gr yl

bl

= red or

68.5

bl

yi

bl

yi

66

bl?

yi

bl

= gryl

63.2

bl

= gryl

bl

yi

59-7

bl

= gryl

bl

= yigr

55

bl

is gryl

bl

= yl or

49

bl

= gryi

= vibl

= gryl

41.2

— vibl

— gryl

= vibl

= gryl

31

vi

sylgr

vi

= gryl

20.5

vi

= ylgr

= blvi

= yigr

IT.5

vi

=yigr

vi

yi-fgr

0

AFTER-IMAGES ON THE PERIPHERAL RETINA. 167

TABLE XXXIII.

SUBJECT B.

Background. 7 (Yellow).

Background.

38 (Blue).

Fix. ptJ

Color Seen.

After-image.

Fix. pt.

Color Seen. |

After-image.

STIMULUS — CARMINE.

55°

= vi car

= yl gr | bl j car

66°

== red car

gr | = red car

41.2

car

/ = ylgr Igr I
\ = red car | gr

3i

= red car

gr | car | = yl gr

3i

= vi car

gr | H= bl gr | car

STIMULUS — ORANQE.

41.2

red or

bl | SB gr bl | red I

STIMULUS — GREEN.

59.7

;E= blgr

car | = bl gr

41-5

= gryl

vi + car | = yl gr

49

= blgr

f = vi car |
\ = blgr | car

3i

gr-hyl

car | = yl gr

3i

gr

= red car | gr

20.5

= ylgr

car | gr

STIMULUS — BLUE-GREEN.

55

= blgr

= red car | == bl gr

31

gr

car | gr

41.2

— blgr

car j == bl gr

-blgr

car j — gr bl

20.5

= bl gr

= red car | s vi

car j = bl gr

STIMULUS — GREEN-BLUE.

41.2

-V«

= or red |
= car red | =grbl

55

bl
==blgr

— red or | ssblgr?

= or red | = bl gr

STIMULUS — BLUE .

31

bl

^ yl gr | ^ or yl |
= ylor | ^ red or
| car

66
31

bl
= grbl

= red or | — bl gr
= ylor | =blgr

STIMULUS — VIOLET.

55

bl

= y1 sr 1 = y1 gr 1

car | = yl gr

EDITORS' ANNOUNCEMENT.

The editors of the REVIEW announce the completion of ar-
rangements to issue a new series of Monographs, planned on
the lines of the Psychological Monograph Series already estab-
lished. This new series will be devoted to philosophical topics,
and will bear the title Philosophical Monographs. The two
series will proceed side by side, being devoted respectively to
more extended papers on psychological and philosophical
subjects. We are glad to offer to authors and University de-
partments this wider channel of publication on the terms here-
tofore extended in connection with the old series. Correspon-
dence with reference to the printing of Monographs and
manuscripts should be addressed as follows :
For the series of Psychological Monographs ',
to Prof. C. H. JUDD, Yale University,

New Haven, Conn.
For the series of Philosophical Monographs,

to Prof. J. MARK BALDWIN, Johns Hopkins University,

Baltimore, Md.

N. S. VOL. XIV. No. 3. May, 1907

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

STUDIES FROM THE LABORATORY OF THE UNI-
VERSITY OF CHICAGO.

COMMUNICATED BY PROFESSOR JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
THE PENDULAR WHIPLASH ILLUSION OF MOTION.

BY HARVEY CARR, PH.D.

I. In an article entitled * The Participation of the Eye
Movements in the Visual Perception of Motion/1 Mr. Dodge
reviews the historical trend of opinion in assigning a less and
less importance to the factor of eye movement in mediating the
visual consciousness of motion ; he further takes the extreme
radical position in this trend of thought by denying to eye
movements any function at all ; he maintains the thesis that eye
movements alone can not mediate any consciousness of visual
motion. "Not only, however, is there no independent con-
sciousness of the eye movements, adequate to the refinement of
the visual perception of motion, but the character of the eye
movements which occur when we view a moving object furnishes
evidence that, if our consciousness of them were complete and
exact, it would be either useless or misleading as a datum in
the visual perception of motion" (p. 3). In speaking of the
results of one of his tests, he maintains that it " serves at once
to show the utter inability of the pursuit movement either to sub-
serve the perception of motion of the fixated point or to correct
the exaggerated data from the displacement of the retinal image
of the nonfixated point" (p. 14).

A crucial test of the theory would involve the elimination of
.all other possible functioning factors, the perception of an

1 PSYCH. REV., 1904, pp. 1-14.

169

170 HARVEY CARR.

isolated moving object whose stimulation remains stationary
upon the retina. Professor Dodge contends that these ideal
conditions are obtained in his pendulum test. Two lights of
weak intensity are placed on the two arms of a counterbalanced
pendulum. One of these swinging lights is followed by the
eyes, while the other is perceived peripherally. Former
photographic tests have demonstrated that the image of the
fixated light is not displaced on the retina during the last
quarter of its swing. According to the theory, the fixated
light should appear motionless during these ideal conditions,
while of course the second light would still be seen in motion
during this period. As a matter of fact, the experiment gave
the expected results ; the peripherally perceived light was seen
to move an appreciable time after the fixated light came to a
full stop ; this second light appeared to make ' a gratuitous
whiplash excursion ' of its own. "We have already called
attention to the fact that the end of every pursuit sweep is freer
from corrective movements than its beginning. This is con-
spicuously true of the pursuit sweeps by which the line of
regard follows a swinging pendulum. Photographs of such
sweeps give no indication of corrective movements either
negative or positive within the last quarter of the swings
studied." He further says that the conditions of the experiment
are such that it ' constitutes a faultless experimental test of our
conclusions ' (p. 13).

There is no doubt as to the genuineness of the whiplash
phenomenon. Mr. Dodge has well described it. Also, is it
obvious that the theory will satisfactorily explain the illusion, nor,
so far as I know, is there any reason for questioning the state-
ment that ideal conditions obtain during this part of the swing.

Mr. Dodge further maintains that the illusion is * capable of
only one explanation/ t. e., in terms of his theory. If this be
true, it would logically follow that the phenomenon is proof
positive of the truth of his theoretical position. The only escape
from the inevitable logic of the situation is to question his
proposition that no other explanatory theory is possible. In
fact, one such -possible explanation occurred to the writer upon
reading the article in question.

PEND ULAR WHIPLASH ILL US ION . 1 7 J

Let us assume the truth of the doctrine generally accepted
before Dodge advanced his extreme proposition, viz., that eye
movements can mediate visual motion, but only for the greater
magnitudes and velocities ; that their limen of perceptibility is
much greater than that of the factor of retinal displacement.
The assumption is entirely probable, for surfaces differ in their
sensitivity to movement. A stimulus of a definite magnitude
and rapidity may be below the limen of perceptibility on one
part of the skin, and still be distinctly perceived as movement on
another area. The same is true for different parts of the retina.
In fact this is the generally accepted view, which Dodge is try-
ing to overthrow. As the pendulum approaches the end of its
swing, the rate of movement gradually decreases to zero. Con-
sequently, for some definite portion of the end of its swing, its
rate would be below the eye movement limen, but still above
the retinal limen of perceptibility. In other words, the retinally
perceived light would be seen moving for an appreciable time
after the fixated light had apparently stopped. Hence the
gratuitous whiplash excursion is evident. Since the function
of eye movement in the perception of motion is the point at
ssue, one has as much right to make a ositive assumption as
Dodge has to assume a lack of function. The theory further
has the weight of historical opinion behind it.

A third -possible theory developed during a repetition of the
experiment. The fixated light when successfully followed has
(during the last portion of its swing) no positive after-image. The
peripherally perceived light, on the contrary, does leave a pro-
nounced positive after-image streak. The eye moves in a direc-
tion opposite to this latter light and consequently the rapidity of
its retinal displacement equals that of a light, perceived by a
stationary eye, moving at a rate equal to the combined velocities
of the two lights used in the pendulum test. Other things being
equal, the length of the after-image streak varies directly with
the rapidity of the retinal displacement. Thus a very pro-
nounced length of the positive streak results in the test. This
light, with its positive after-image, is viewed peripherally and
hence is seen indistinctly and en masse; without conscious effort
on the part of the observer, it appears as an elongated light with

172 HARVEY CARR.

no very decided contour, nor sharply discriminated parts ; it
appears as a conscious whole or unity. As the pendulum
reaches the end of its swing, this elongated mass of light rapidly
contracts in length at its rear end. This occurs for two reasons :
(i) the velocity of the pendulum rapidly decreases toward zero,
and the length of the positive after-image is a function of the
rate of movement ; (2) the light on its return swing back-tracks,
as it were, and meets the receding end of the fading after-image,
but now leaves another positive streak in its rear. If the posi-
tive streak is six inches long when the pendulum is one inch
from the end of its swing, and this streak has time to disappear
while the pendulum is moving and returning over this final inch
of its arc, it is evident that the total mass of light will have con-
tracted at its rear end from six inches to one inch in length.
These values are of course merely illustrative. Movement,
psychologically, is the consciousness of spatial changes, and
these changes occur at the two ends of the elongated light, the
shifting boundaries between the two discriminable visual con-
tents. One of these cues of movement becomes abnormally ex-
aggerated as the pendulum comes to a full stop, and still con-
continues to be operative, without any contrary cue, while the
pendulum is gathering headway on its return swing. Conse-
quently, the whole mass of light will appear to be moving on,
after the pendulum has really stopped. The observed extra
movement is thus a purely illusory one. Such a conception in-
volves no new doctrine, for the influence of the receding posi-
tive after-image streak in mediating the perception of motion is
well known. At the very least, the theory possesses an a friori
possibility.

We shall term these theories A, B> and C in the order of
their exposition. It is to be noted that only A and B are mutually
exclusive. The phenomenon may be due to the causes desig-
nated in A, or B, or C9 or it may be the combined result of
those mentioned in A and C, or B and C. We propose to re-
count some additional observations and tests throwing light
upon the relative efficiency of these conceptions as explanatory
principles.

Hereafter the fixated and the peripherally perceived lights

PENDULAR WHIPLASH ILLUSION. 1 73

will be termed the upper and the lower lights respectively.
Unless otherwise stated, the following conditions will obtain :
The length of the upper arm of the pendulum is slightly shorter
than that of the lower arm. The lower arm is 78 cm. in length,
and swings through an arc of 100 cm. The pendulum moves
at a velocity of two seconds for a complete swing, /. £., for a for-
ward and a return movement. The observer is stationed at a
distance of 230 cm., and the eye moves through an angle of 23
degrees in following the upper light. The angular distance of
the lower light from the fovea is approximately 30 degrees.
Two miniature incandescent lights were used of such intensity
that no other objects were visible. The tests were conducted
at night in a dark room.

II. Mr. Dodge alleges that the apparent length of the upper
light's movement is judged to be much shorter than that of the
lower one. In order to secure an equality of apparent length
of movement, he found it necessary to make the upper arc of
movement three times the length of the lower. He calls atten-
tion to the similarity between this ratio and that obtained by
Exner, Von Fleischl, et <z/., between the apparent rates of
movement when judged with stationary eyes on the one hand,
and with the eyes following the movement on the other. If the
experienced velocity and duration of movement of the lower
light are greater than that of the upper light, apparently it
should seem to move for the greater distance.

My observers did not confirm these results as to the apparent
lengths of movement. In fact, they gave judgments of equality
of movement only when the two arcs were practically equal in
length.1 Moreover, the argument is not valid that the apparent
movement of the lower light must be greater than that of the
upper light because it has the greater apparent velocity and
duration. In certain illusions, as the Piirkinje dizziness phe-

1 Probably this discrepancy is due to a difference in the method of judging,
for there are present several cues upon which the observer may base his judg-
ments of length. It is practically impossible to make a judgment as to pure
length, uninfluenced by other motives. The apparent rate of movement may
have a determining influence, or the observer may mentally superimpose the
two lengths to be compared. My observers invariably found themselves using
the latter method.

174 HARVEY CARP.

nomenon and especially under some conditions of * autokinetic
sensations/ I have often observed that the customary mathe-
matical relation between rate and magnitude of motion does
not obtain. The light may appear to be moving at the rate of
two feet a second, and yet after some time one would not judge
the distance traversed to be over a few feet in length. The
illusion is so striking to the writer under some circumstances,
that the felt discrepancy between rate of movement and dis-
tance traversed forces itself upon the attention. The light ap-
pears to be moving rapidly ', but yet does not appear to be getting
anywhere, to be traversing s face. One receives to some extent
the anomalous feeling that the light is both moving and not
moving at the same time. On the other hand, in a test to be
described later, I received the impression occasionally that the
amount of movement was too great for the velocity, that the
object got to positions without moving there. As another illus-
tration of the truth that axioms of ideal space do not necessarily
hold true for experienced space, I may cite the fact that in cuta-
neous space two lengths equal to a third length do not always
equal each other. In fact, many spatial illusions exist simply
because the spatial relations of our experiences do not tally with
the relationships of ideal space.

According to the theory A, the upper light appears motion-
less, when the pendulum has completed three fourths of its
swing. The lower light is still perceived to be moving during
the last quarter. Consequently, this extra movement of the
lower light after the upper one has ceased moving ought to be
equal in length to one fourth of the arc ; with our conditions
this would be 25 cm. Judgments as to its apparent length gave
values of but 7-10 cm. Such judgments are of course un-
reliable so far as any nice accuracy is concerned, but the dis-
crepancy between these values and 25 cm. appears too great to
be explained in this manner.

If the upper light appears motionless when the pendulum
completes but three fourths of its swing, and a screen is in-
terposed so as to intercept the subject's vision of the lower
light at this point, i. £., cut off from view 'the last quarter
(25 cm.) of its movement, it follows that the lower light should

PENDULAR WHIPLASH ILLUSION. 1 75

disappear at the same time that the upper light ceases mov-
ing. This test was made as follows : The position of the
screen was adjustable so that the subject's vision of the lower
light was intercepted for any desired portion of the end of the
swing. The amount of arc intercepted was varied in an
irregular manner, nor was it known to the observer. The sub-
ject was asked to judge whether the lower light disappeared
before, after, or coincidently with the cessation of movement on
the part of the upper light. As many trials were allowed as
the subject desired before giving each judgment. For judg-
ments of simultaneity, two observers gave an average result of
5 cm., with an average variation of 2 cm. Within these limits
(3-7 cm.), hesitancy of judgment was the rule. For the greater
values of 10-25 cm., the observers were never in doubt; the
upper light was distinctly perceived in motion after the disap-
pearance of the lower light, *'. £., during at least nine tenths of
its swing.

This experiment was varied by so placing the screen as to
wholly intercept the sight of the lower light. This screen con-
tained a small opening, 2 cm. square. This opening could be
placed at any position along the arc of movement. Conse-
quently, the lower light would be momentarily visible only at a
certain desired time during its swing. The observer was now
asked to judge whether this light was seen before, after or
coincidently with the cessation of movement on the part of the
upper light. An average value of 2 cm. was obtained for judg-
ments of simultaneity. For larger values there was no hesi-
tancy of judgment. For all points above 5 cm. from the end
of the swing, the upper light was perceived in distinct motion
after the lower one became visible. The theory demands that
the upper light be seen moving only during 75 hundredths of its
swing. These results show that it is distinctly -perceived in
motion throughout 90 to 95 hundredths of its arc.

This extra duration of movement, or the whiplash excursion,
can be seen under conditions of observation other than those
taken into account by theory A. It can be seen with stationary
eyes where both movements are perceived entirely by retinal
criteria. The subject fixates the point in space where the

176 HARVEY CARR.

upper light comes to a full stop and observes the two move-
ments under these conditions. When the the two arms of the
pendulum are equal in length, the whiplash effect is absent.
However, if the lower arm of the pendulum is much the longer,
the whiplash phenomenon is again in evidence. Obviously,
this result can not be explained on the basis of theory A.

III. The results of the above test can be explained by theory
C. This conception of the whiplash effect assumes that the
lower light appears to move for a greater duration of time but
not necessarily through a greater amount of space. This
apparent greater duration of movement is due to the stimulation
of the receding end of the positive after-image streak. The
duration of this extra movement would thus depend upon the
length of this streak, and this length would depend, other con-
ditions being similar, upon the actual velocity of the light.
When the two lights are viewed with stationary eyes, positive
streaks follow both lights. When the two arms of the pendu-
lum are equal in length, the linear velocities of the lights and
the lengths of their streaks are equal. Both lights would thus
appear to move after the pendulum actually stopped, but for an
equal duration of time. When the lower arm is much the
longer, the lower streak is also the longer. Both lights would
appear to move after the pendulum stopped, but for unequal
durations of time. The lower light would appear moving after
the upper one came to a full stop. In other words, the whip-
lash effect would be absent in the first case, but present in the
second, in accordance with my observations.

In the above judgments of simultaneity where the lower
light disappeared behind the screen on the one hand, and ap-
peared through the opening on the other, a larger value was
obtained in the first case. Granted that this difference of value
is a valid result under the two conditions, the fact can be
explained by theory C. In the first case the positive streak is
present, but is absent in the second case because the light is hid
behind the screen. Simultaneity was secured at 5 and 2 cm.
from the end of the swing respectively for the two conditions.
When the positive streak is present, the lower light will be visible,
in indirect vision, after its actual disappearance behind the

PEND ULAR WHIPLA SH ILL US ION'. 1 7 7

screen. In order to make its apparent disappearance coinci-
dent with the cessation of the upper light's movement, it would
need to be intercepted earlier in its swing by an amount of time
equal to the functional persistence of the positive streak. As a
matter of fact when the positive streak was present, the light
was intercepted 3 cm. earlier in its swing. According to the
conception, the time taken for the pendulum to move these 3
cm. should equal the functional duration of the positive streak.
Since the pendulum moves 100 cm. per second, this time would
be .03 second, provided that the rate of movement were uniform.
Since the pendular movement decreases in velocity at the end
of the swing, the actual time must be greater than this value,
probably at least .05 second.

The whiplash illusion is conditioned by the direction of the
attention. If the positive streak be consciously neglected by
focussing the peripheral attention upon the forward part of the
moving light, the whiplash effect is practically eliminated. By
voluntarily attending to the streak, i. e., to the receding end of
the elongated light, the illusion of extra movement at once be-
comes evident. It was this observation which led to the formu-
lation of the after-image theory. A second observer who knew
nothing at all of the theories involved, voluntarily offered the
same explanation after some observation of the phenomenon.

A contrary illusion may sometimes be obtained by sharply
discriminating the light from its positive streak. Instead of
perceiving the lower light moving forward, it may be seen
moving backwards a couple of centimeters on its return swing
while the upper light still appears motionless.

Since the length pf the positive streak varies directly with
the pendular velocity, it would follow, according to theory C,
that the illusory effect will vary in direct proportion to the pen-
dular rate of movement. By a system of weights, the velocity
was varied without any other alteration of conditions. The
rates secured were 5,3, and 2 seconds for a complete swing.
Judgments of the illusory movement were then given in linear
terms. Values of i, 3, and 6 cm. respectively were obtained
for the three rates in the order given above.

A sufficient portion of the end of the swing for each of these

178 HARVEY CARR.

rates of movement was intercepted so as to obtain a judgment
of equality in the duration of movement for the two lights.
According to the theory the amount of arc intercepted should
vary in proportion to the three rates. The values of 15, 30 and
45 mm. respectively were secured. These results correspond
rather closely to the above values for the apparent lengths for
this extra movement. The actual numerical values are in them-
selves unimportant ; they bring out the fact, however, that the
apparent extra movement does vary directly with the velocity
of the pendulum.

A weak diffused light, 10 x 15 cm. in dimensions, was so
placed that the lower light would swing past and just emerge
from it at the end of the movement. This background of dif-
fused light was so varied in intensity that the positive streak
could not be differentiated from it by direct observation. The
experiment was then repeated as usual. At the end of the
swing, the lower light would flash out sharply against its black
background, while the positive streak could not be seen. The
functional efficiency of the receding after-image was thus elimi-
nated. Under these conditions the illusory movement was not
apparent, while the lower light would flash out into distinct
view practically at the same time that the upper light came to a
full stop.

IV. But little positive evidence can be given in favor of the-
ory B. The contrary illusion can be interpreted on this basis.
The velocity of the pendulum is so small for the end and be-
ginning of each swing that eye movements can not mediate
a sense of motion. The upper light is thus not perceived in
motion for a couple of centimeters at the end and beginning of
its movement. Since the retina is more sensitive to movement
than the eyes, the lower light is seen moving during this time ;
it not only moves forward a centimeter after the upper light
stops, but also may be seen moving backward on its return
swing before the upper light gathers a sufficient velocity to
arouse a movement consciousness. The phenomenon might be
explained legitimately in other terms, however.

In so far as the after-image theory does not entirely account
for the illusory effect, it is legitimate to assume the influence of

PENDULAR WHIPLASH ILLUSION. 1 79

factor B. In several of the tests, a slight illusory effect ap-
peared to be present, although the after-image was eliminated.
When the light appeared through the opening in the screen, the
after-image was not present, yet the upper light was judged to
be motionless when the pendulum lacked two centimeters of
completing its swing. When the after-image was suppressed
by the background of diffused light, a slight suggestion of the
illusory movement was occasionally noticed. These cases are
explicable in terms of theory B, though, of course, they may
be explained by other means. No conclusive proof of this
theory can be offered.

V. On the whole the evidence seems sufficient, to the writer,
to warrant the conclusions that the phenomenon is not to be ex-
plained in any measure by theory A ; that the upper light is
perceived in motion during the major part of the last quarter of
its swing ; that the phenomenon is due mainly to the receding
positive after-image ; and that possibly factor B may have a
small determining influence.

If Dodge's contention be true that ideal conditions obtain dur-
ing the last quarter of the arc of movement, and if our tests
prove that the upper light is seen in motion during the major
portion of this time, it would logically follow that the experi-
ment is proof positive against Dodge's theory as to the lack of
function on the part of eye movements ; that they, on the con-
trary, do function in the perception of movement. However,
the writer does not presume to advance such a dogmatic con-
clusion on the basis of a single experiment, in view of the fact
that the results of several other experiments advanced by Dodge
and others remain to be controverted.

VI. A rather interesting phenomenon developed during a
modification of the pendular experiment. Both lights were
attached to the lower arm, but at different distances from the
axis of rotation. If the upper light be followed by the eyes,
the same results are obtained as formerly, though the whiplash
effect is not so pronounced. The motion of the lower light is
retinally perceived, because the eyes do not move to the same
extent as does this light. When the lower light is followed, the
eyes move faster than does the upper light, and consequently

l8o HARVEY CARR.

retinal cues of movement are present. Moreover, the upper
light is now preceded by a positive streak. Since the pendular
velocity decreases at the end of the swing, the elongated light
must now contract in length on its forward end. The forward
end of the positive streak travels backward in relation to the
light. Two opposing retinal criteria of movement are now
present. The receding streak tends to oppose, or neutralize,
instead of emphasizing, the upper light's motion. As a matter
of fact, one's consciousness of this motion is strikingly peculiar
and difficult of description. The movement seems weak and
attenuated in character ; it lacks body, force and vitality. It
sometimes appears to be markedly shorter than its actual length,
while at other times it appears to approximate its normal length,
but in this case its length seems to be too great for its velocity ;
it strikes one at times as being in certain positions without hav-
ing moved there. This illusory appearance becomes striking,
if the observer suddenly stops the eyes and holds them station-
ary ; the movement at once flashes out in vigor and vitality.
Whatever the proper explanation may be, the illusion is cer-
tainly unique and seems worthy of further study.1

1 The MS. of this article was received December 25, '06. — ED.

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE.1

BY PROF. J. MARK BALDWIN.
Johns Hopkins University.

§ i. THE DETERMINATION OF THOUGHT IN A SYSTEM.
The description of logical meaning from the point of view
of the belief embodied in the various forms of judgment, leads
naturally on to the inquiry as to its development. We have
seen, in our broad survey of the genesis of the logical mode,
certain motive principles at work for the establishing of logical
content or subject matter. It is, of course the continued action
of these motives that carries on the movement, in the logical
mode itself, by which its meanings are added to and extended.
We may therefore, in taking up the problem of the develop-
ment that logical meanings normally undergo, recall to mind
the essential movements already recognized.

1. In the first place, it may be pointed out that logical
meanings constitute a context of thoughts. The prelogical
meanings of all sorts, the individuated contents established by
processes earlier than explicit judgment, are taken up in the
organized system of experience which is the objective thought-
world of the thinker. It is first of all the thinker's experience,
controlled in the inner processes of judgment and acknowledg-
ment, whatever further reference or confirmation it may have
as being true to or cognizant of * reality.'

2. In the second place, we may recall the outcome of the
discussion of * common ' meanings in the logical mode, to the
effect that all judgments and hence all thought-contexts are com-
mon in the sense of being * synnomic ' or « appropriate ' for the
acceptance of all competent judgment everywhere. The belief
of the individual as determined in an act of judgment, is for
him the expression of the belief of the larger world of personal
selves. Apart from the question as to whether other individual

the material of chapter VI. of the writer's work, Thought and
Things or Genetic Logic, Vol. II., ' Experimental L,ogic.'

181

1 82 /. MARK BALD WIN.

thinkers do or do not at the time agree with him, still, in giving
his belief, he is constituting a subject matter to which, by the
essential movement involved, others are expected to give their
assent.

3. Furthermore and third, this common character and mean-
ing of the subject matter of thought was found to rest geneti-
cally or prelogically upon a process that is both social and
experimental : the process described in our earlier discussions
under the term * secondary conversion.' We found that the
context of knowledge, considered as a confirmed and established
body of data, was in very essential ways due to the recognition
and use of the contents of the minds of one's social fellows.
Before it is judged, knowledge, as so far common, is ' syn-
doxic.' All but the original substantive parts of experience —
the parts found directly convertible into the hard coin of per-
sisting and recurring fact — was actually set off from the fugi-
tive and private images of fancy, through such secondary and
essentially social conversion process. It was in the further
development of this motive, it will be remembered also, that the
marks of knowledge as general, universal, and even singular
were derived. The conclusion that knowledge — in any mode
that is not subpersonal and so subsocial l — is a * social out-
come rather than a private possession,' summed up our results
in the matter.

We should expect, as has been said above, that the develop-
ment of the context of thinking would be by a process contin-
uous with that of its origin ; that is, that accretions to the
body of experience would be effected in the same way that
earlier acquisitions were made. And this appears necessary
when we remember that no material is available at all except
that which has passed through these simpler modes. The new
thoughts are always also sensations, memories, images or other
such meanings that are found available in the development of
the selective motives by which they are constituted as thoughts.
There is, therefore, no extension of the context of thought ex-

1 Even the low-grade knowledge of the perceptual mode is shot through
with the quasi-social meaning that we have called ' commonness of common
function. '

THO UGHT A ND LANG UA GE. 1 83

cept so far as the judgment is determined upon meanings by its
one characteristic process. This process is, as has been said,
both social and experimental.

4. Finally we may point out, in addition to the foregoing,
a character of thought which has not as yet been adverted to ;
one that fixes genetically both the social motive and the experi-
mental motive as now put in evidence. It is the linguistic
character of thought. Thought is a system of predications
or assertions that may be embodied in a more or less ex-
plicit system of symbols for purposes of inter-personal com-
munication. The genetic relation of speech and language to
judgment will be found to give striking confirmation of the
point of view developed in the consideration of logical meaning,
to the effect that judgment is in all cases common or synnomic.

§ 2. THE LINGUISTIC DETERMINATION OF THOUGHT.

The old problem put in the question, < Is thought possible
without speech,' has no real significance except so far as it is
set genetically or from the point of view of the comparative
origin and development of these two great functions. But from
such a point of view it takes on great significance inasmuch as
even a superficial examination suggests a profound correlation.
The current theories which deal with the topic from the side of
language make out, each from its own class of data, certain
plausible positions ; these may be suggested as introductory to
our own treatment of the problem.

i. The Personal or Dynamic Theory. This theory is based
on the interpretation of * expression.' It finds some sort of
symbolic representation necessary as soon as the meaning to be
expressed becomes general or abstract. The symbolism of ges-
ture language, pictographic writing, etc., precedes that of vocal
utterance and conventional phonetic written signs. It would
seem, indeed, that if expression is to develop from a purely
ejaculatory, demonstrative, or other mainly concrete stage to
one of general or abstract meaning or import — that is, if it is to
express something imported, something additional to the bare
concrete common content of present experience — there would
have to be a vehicle of a sort intentionally symbolizing this as-

1 84 /. MARK BALD WIN.

pect of meaning. For example, a savage could not respond to
express the meaning « man,' as suggested by but not limited
to « this man,' except as a sign of this further intent attached
to his response. Theoretically, of course, any sort of conven-
tionalized indication — act, posture, sound — might have been
selected for this function in the processes of development ; but
we find the function in which it has been embodied to be speech.
Speech issues in a system of articulate vocal symbols, together
with that special development of the same symbolism embodied
in writing. So much may be said on the personal side ; the
side of personal expression as such.

For the purposes of linguistic theory, this may be called
the * personal ' or * dynamic ' point of view. It recognizes the
fact that the person is the source of new accretions of social
meaning, and the dynamic movement of such meaning is made
possible only as the results of personal thought find adequate
and appropriate expression. It considers language as a live
thing, flexible in its growth with the development of thought,
divergent and varying in its comparative systems of symbolism.
It gives a comparative philology, and aims at the genetic solu-
tion of linguistic problems in terms of psychological meanings.
Evidently, therefore, this point of view is in its own province
most important.

But the further question as to the conservation, the conven-
tionalizing— in the large sense, the socializing — of meanings,
whereby they show themselves more than personal, and in an
important sense also less than personal, is equally urgent. This
question may be put sharply thus : how can a system of sym-
bols serving as expression of a dynamic movement of personal
thought, also serve as the embodiment of established and con-
ventionalized social meaning?

This inquiry has direct enforcement from the side of the
psychology of what is called * intercourse.' There is no purely
* personal ' intercourse ; all intercourse is in its constitution in-
ter-personal. Its intent is to be understood as well as to be ex-
pressed. It becomes necessary to enlarge the theory of expres-
sion to make its unit one of common meaning. The lowest
functional term of expression is in some crude sense ' inter-

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE. 185

course' — the development of common meaning. Turning,
therefore, to the theories of language reached from the social
side, we find a second type.

2. The Social or Static Theory. The theory of common
symbolic meaning would seem not to find its problem in the
first instance in personal expression. Its problem is not how
personal meaning could become common in its expression, but
how a conventionally common meaning could be the vehicle of
genuine personal experience. Would not any system of sym-
bolic meanings become, just by the rigidity and static character
that its social fixity would impart, unavailable for personal
purposes?

Indeed, the function of language, we are told by the static
theorists, does not extend to the expression of what is personal
as such. It comes to reflect personal interest only by being
first of all conventional and common. The demand of inter-
course is for a symbolism to express meanings already under-
stood and accepted. It is only by social generalization that a
meaning can become eligible for linguistic embodiment at all.
Witness the fact that feeling and impulse, so far as they are
not thrown into descriptive form as knowledge, cannot be given
common linguistic rendering. Music may be cited : what does
music really express? It is only so far as a meaning has taken
on a form that gives it currency in society that it is made a
matter of intelligible speech.

Upon this type of theory a view is based which makes lan-
guage a static, stereotyped system of forms. The classics,
being no longer living and growing but dead, offer the models
of literary form. Any current modes of speech and language
that do not fit into these models, so far fall short of the instru-
mental adequacy that facile social intercourse demands.

While stating these two types of theory in this extreme con-
trasted way, I do not mean that advocates of them in just this
form are to be found ; but the antithesis presents a fair contrast
of rtdtude and spirit. Especially does it appear in the method
of research that the schools respectively adopt. The men who
look upon language statically are critical rather than genetic in
their method ; they study types rather than comparative forms.

1 86 /. MARK BALD WIN.

Given the perfect models in which the human thought move-
ments have once embodied themselves — say in Greek — and
philology becomes the criticism and application of these models.
Essential variations in model, reflecting racial and temperamental
character and essential differences in intent and spirit in the
actual development of cultural meaning — resulting in a variety
of comparative modes maturing in common — all this they find
it difficult to take interest in. The other school, on the con-
trary, having in view just the final point of origin and departure
of all social meaning, the thoughts of the individual, make the
comparative variations all important.

The line of solution would seem to lie in the distinction
already made in the remarks on expression : the distinction
between meaning on the one hand that is singular and in some
sense private, and meaning on the other hand that is general
and universal. Just as there is a sphere of personal experience
that is ineligible to common and symbolic expression, so there
is a sphere of common and public experience that is ineligible
to strictly personal and private uses. In their range, in short,
personal meanings and social meanings overlap but do not
coincide. Consequently, there is the requirement all the way
along that the symbols of conventional expression be so far as
possible flexible in order to embody the accretions to personal
experience; and on the other hand, that they be fixed enough
to embody the habitual and conventionalized meanings of his-
torical and common experience. This requirement is embodied
in the view, now fast gaining ground, that language is a grow-
ing organic thing, relatively satisfactory for the epoch and the
group ; but by no means containing or requiring a system of
fixed and stereotyped meanings.

Moreover the development of the appreciative or aesthetic
consciousness is, all the while, working out new systems of sym-
bolism for the more recondite meanings of personal intent and
ideal fulfilment. The arts are such semi-socialized and in turn
socializing systems of symbolic meaning. Their role is seen, in
connection with the more conventional symbolism of language,
in the various forms of conscious literary art. These, just by
being acceptable as art^ become more adequate as embodiments
of individual meaning.

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE. 187

These two points of view may serve to guide our further
thought. On the one hand, we must find the process whereby
personal experience may be rendered in the symbolism of com-
mon intercourse ; and on the other hand the process whereby
the same symbolism, although of necessity fed by the progress
of personal experience, may nevertheless preserve and embody
the fruits of social and historical tradition.

If we assume, as a matter of fact, that the requirements of
such a system of symbolic meanings are normally met in their
linguistic embodiment we have then to analyze further the situa-
tion in which such meanings are in vital and effective use ; and
the modes of intercourse that embody such developing mean-
ings will also interest us from the point of view of the genetic
progress of thought.

§ 3. THOUGHT AS LINGUISTIC MODE.

We should expect to find, if our earlier positions are well
taken, that thought, logical meaning of whatever grade, would
take on a linguistic or other social form. Both of the great
characters of logical meaning actually require it.

One of them has already been seen to be effective in the
sketch just given of the two great points of view current in the
theory of language — *', e.9 that while speech expresses perso-
nal meaning, it must still be socially organized. This hits upon
just the relation of the personal or private to the common strain
in all logical meaning. The character of logical meaning as
being at once personally judged true, and also acknowledged
as appropriate for common acceptance — this is just the charac-
ter we have found. It is denominated * synnomic.' The tran-
sition from pre-judgmental to judgmental meaning is just that
from knowledge that has social confirmation to that which gets
along without it. The meanings utilized for judgment are those
already in their presuppositions and implications developed
through the confirmations of social intercourse. Thus the per-
sonal judgment, trained in the methods of social rendering, and
disciplined by the interaction of its social world, projects its
content into the world again. In other words, the platform
for all individual movement of judgment to its assertion — the

1 88 J. MARK BALDWIN.

level from which it utilizes new experience — is already and
always socialized; and it is just this moment that we find re-
flected in the actual result as the sense of the * appropriateness '
or the * synnomic' character of the meaning.

This requirement, signalized as the common or synnomic
character of the linguistic embodiment of thought, may be called
the * habit' aspect — the funded, conserving, retrospective,
general side of meaning in the logical mode. Evidently it is
this that the static theorists of language have in mind. Lan-
guage must embody meanings that are established and common.
They are personally available only so far as the individual can
use this kind of meaning, that is so far as his meaning is already
synnomic. If our theory, however, discovers that all personal
judgment already embodies such meanings , then we may simply
say that this function, language, is the normal and appropriate
embodiment of individual judgment no less than of social
meaning.

The other aspect, however, is equally real. It may in con-
trast be called the * accommodation' side — the side of growth,
accretion, development of personal meaning through the re-
sort to language as instrument and means. Of course, it is
evident that both the general and the schematic, the retrospec-
tive and the prospective, the belief and the doubt, the assertion
and the assumption, must be capable of characteristic linguistic
embodiment.

It is upon this requirement that we find the dynamic theories
of language dwelling in turn. They recognize the fact that
thought would be killed, both personally and also as represent-
ing any social values, if its vehicle were stereotyped and un-
changing. The symbolism of language must reflect the mode
of development and growth peculiar to the progress of thought.

Now the development of thought, as we are to see in great
detail,1 is by a method of trial and error, of essential experimen-
tation, through the use of meanings as worth more than they
are as yet recognized to be worth. The individual must use his
old thoughts, his established knowledges, his grounded judg-
ments, for the embodiment of his new inventive constructions ;

!In later chapters of the volume ' Experimental Logic.'

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE. 19

he erects his thought as we say ' schematically ' — in logical
terms, problematically, conditionally, disjunctively — projecting
into society an opinion still personal to himself, as if it were true.
Thus all discovery -proceeds. But this is, from the linguistic
point of view, still to use the current language ; still to work by
meanings already embodied in social and conventional usage.
And the result, what of that ?

The result is now the essential thing. By this experimenta-
tion both thought and language are together advanced. The
new meaning is, let us say, not confirmed in the way suggested ;
the old terms do not fully define and limit the connotation that
actual trial justifies. Language then grows to fulfil the demand
of the developing thought. It is accomplished, it is plain, by
no situation that compels language to be private or public and
not both. As tentatively suggested the meaning is rendered as
if common^ in common speech ; the new form it takes on, while
now become common as meaning, is still the individual's per-
sonal thought as well. Language grows, therefore, just as
thought does, by never losing its synnomic or dual reference;
its meaning is both personal and social from start tojinisk.

As soon as we recognize these two essential motives in the
development of thought, a profound interest attaches to the
question of the relation of language to thought. There are
certain statements whose truth now appears, and which bring
direct confirmation from the side of language of our view of the
origin and nature of synnomic or judgmental meanings.

i. It would appear that language is the instrument of social
habit, in the sense that it conserves and stores up as a social
heritage the gains of common meaning. And this appears not
simply as a fact, but by reason of the principle that only in
language are the available elements of personal experience and
meaning socially stored and rendered continuously available.
It is the register of tradition, the record of racial conquest, the
deposit of all the gains made by the genius of individuals. The
social * copy-system,' thus established, reflects the judgmental
processes of the race ; and in turn becomes the training school
of the judgment of new generations. Not indeed would I say
that linguistic models and linguistic study as such have any

190 /. MARK BALDWIN.

such pedagogical importance ; that is just the fallacy of our
present-day instruction, that makes a fetish of language as
such. But every day linguistic intercourse, language perform-
ing its vital role, is thus important. Linguistic study is instru-
mental, a means to an end ; the end being admission to the
storehouse of meanings and models of racial judgment, which
literature in all its forms serves to mediate. When language is
made an end — except of course in that department of research
in which language is itself the content — it becomes a form that
is eviscerated of its filling and meaning ; much as we eviscerate
thought of its content and so lose its meaning also, when we
leave out of account the essential movements of belief.

2. In speech, the function by which the content of language
is actively rendered and interpreted, the accommodation side of
thinking is given its chance. Most of the training of the self,
whereby the vagaries of personal reaction to fact and image are
reduced to the funded basis of sound judgment, comes through
the use of speech. When the child speaks he lays before the
world his suggestion of a general and common meaning ; the
reception it gets confirms or refutes him. In either case he is
instructed. His next venture is now from a platform of knowl-
edge on which the newer item is more nearly that which is con-
vertible into the common coin of effective intercourse. The
point to notice here is not so much the mechanism of the ex-
change— the sort of conversion — by which this gain is made,
as the training in judgment that the constant use of it affords.
In each case, effective judgment is the common judgment ; and
there grows up the ability to make such judgment effective
without the actual appeal. This is secured by the development
of a function whose rise is directly ad hoc — directly for the
social experimentation by which growth in personal competence
is advanced — the function of speech.1

1The first and more superficial criticism of the reader is here, as elsewhere
in these genetic discussions, that which raises the question as to whether speech
is the only function by which this is secured. We are asked whether a child
who is deaf and dumb does not become a competent thinker. Certainly he does,
in this measure or that, according to the case, which is only to say that the role
normally played by speech may on occasion be taken up in a less effective way
by some other function having a content capable of the symbolic reading that
usually attaches to language.

THO UGHT AND LANG UA GE. T 9 1

In language, therefore, to sum up the foregoing, we have
the tangible — the actual and historical — instrument of the de-
velopment and conservation of psychic meaning. It is the
material evidence and proof of the concurrence of social and
personal judgment. In it synnomic meaning, judged as ' ap-
propriate,' becomes ' social ' meaning, held as socially general-
ized and acknowledged. The dictionary is the register of
private judgment become social. Written language, literature,
is its institutional and traditional side ; speech is the schematic
and personal rendering of its intent, its accommodative side.1

§ 4. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THOUGHT THROUGH
INTERCOURSE.

The view of thought now briefly indicated justifies certain
positions regarding the form in which the import of an item of
knowledge may be expressed when embodied in such a vehicle
as language. On the surface it appears that the entire import
of such an item varies with the setting in which it is developing.

1 There is here a confirmation of the position taken in my work Social and
Ethical Interpretations, in which the method of social organization is found to
be imitation ; for not only is language the embodiment of generalized cognitive
content, it is also, as functional in speech, through and through imitative in its
method of learning and propagation.

We now see how it is that language is instrumental to the development of
both personal and social meanings. What linguistic theory needs, in fact, is
better psychology : a psychology that shows the artificiality of the dualism of
private and social meaning, that the opposed theories assume. If it were true
that there were no concurrence — no identity — between the movement of indi-
vidual thought and that of conventional language, then not only would a theory
of language be impossible — language itself would be impossible as well. This
is one of the topics, therefore, in which a view of judgment that justifies the
essentially common character of its meaning renders service in a field of more
remote interest. If the demonstration of the social genesis of the individual's
judgment be sound, philology will have for the first time a solution of one of
its great problems.

Another fact known to psychologists and philologists alike has an interest-
ing value in the light of our discussion : the fact of ' internal speech.' Recent
investigation shows that it is not a mere by-phenomenon — our having words
' in our minds ' and ' on our lips ' when engaged in silent thought, reading, etc.
(see my Mental Development, chap. XIV.). It is rather the incipient stirring
up of those social and symbolic equivalents of thought, that vocal rendering em-
ploys. Since the normal development of thought and speech goes on together,
the functional processes are not separable. The intended psychic meaning can
come up only when its symbolic vehicle is incipiently stirred up with it.

192 J. MARK BALDWIN.

The interest at work may be of this or that sort according as
this or that group of meanings ordinarily called a ' topic ' is be-
ing pursued. This in turn varies with all the dispositional or
other tendencies or motives coming to consciousness in the indi-
vidual. The content itself, so considered as a subject-matter
of thought, has relations, discovered or not discovered, in a
larger whole of meaning. For example, the item * horse ' may
have very different lines of import developed according as I am
conversing with a horseman, a naturalist, a dealer, or a veter-
inary surgeon. In each case only those ramifications of mean-
ing that are relevant to the common interest of the parties to the
situation are elucidated and further advanced. If we consider
that phase of the situation that concerns the party for whom a
set of relationships is already established as a whole of subject
matter, then the form of linguistic expression he employs is
motived by the interest of what we may call « elucidation.'
You * elucidate ' to me the fuller import of what you understand.
The motive to intercourse on his part is in this case not dis-
covery, not the extension of his system of meanings, but the im-
parting of it to another — literally its elucidation to one who
has not yet, it may be, fully thought it out under the same set
of relevant interests.

On the other hand, supposing the interests to remain the
same, the attitude embodied in the use of the term, sentence,
or other linguistic unit, may be not elucidation but * discovery,'
not teaching but learning. And, of course, on the surface this
may seem to require no active resort to speech at all. But such
a statement, as being in any sense a final account of the matter,
would be very superficial. The process of development of a
system of logical meanings is never one of passive reception or
even of relative inactivity. The growth of logical meaning in
the hearer is by a series of judgments. The process is one of
individuation of more or less familiar meanings in a new con-
struction or context, in which the self receives a new impulse
to its assertion of inner control. The understanding of a state-
ment, or a series of statements, in detailed discourse, may be
seemingly complete for each step ; but the elucidation of the
speaker may vary in effectiveness for the hearer all the way

THO UGHT AND LANG UA GE. 1 93

from a mere glamour of familiarity or formal correctness,
through varied stages of piece-meal, fragmentary, and semi-
detached judgmental wholes, to that complete response of the
hearer's logical interest that unifies the entire set of relevant
items. How the more superficial sorts of comprehension of a
subject are possible might be made subject of further remark ;
here it may suffice to say that when they are thus of the super-
ficial sort, it is pseudo-thinking ; it gives meanings that remain
in large part either in a mode not yet judgmental, or so habitual
as to be under mere reality-feeling, or again they are mere
material for schematic use in this way or that when judgment
upon their further relevancies is actually achieved.

If genuinely receptive, indeed, the attitude of the hearer is
one of continuous thinking. His selective interests are not
severely taxed, since the relevant information is directly supplied
to him. But the meanings suggested to him are, in the first
instance, merely proposed, assumptive, experimental. Each
item added to the whole requires assimilation by some process
complementary to that whereby, in the contrasted case, he tests
in the social environment the meanings of his own suggestion.
There must be a means, personal to the hearer, of testing the
content of a thought proposed to him as valid, just as there
must be a means, social in its nature, of testing the personal
hypotheses put forth by the individual. Both of these processes
are made effective through the medium of the common function,
speech. The one sort of testing is the appeal to the socially
established context of common meanings, as represented by
authority ; the other is that whereby the socially l problematical
or assumptive meaning is confirmed by appeal to individual
judgment. The unit in which such items of meaning are cast
for either of these modes of confirmation or for both is now to
be inquired into ; it may be called the unit of linguistic expres-
sion. It is what is ordinarily called a Predication , or a Predi-
cative Meaning.

1 ' Social ' in the sense of made to a hearer by whom it is to be ratified.
Of course all social acceptance is constituted by an aggregate of such individual
ratifications.

194 J. MARK BALDWIN.

§ 5. MODES OF PREDICATION: ELUCIDATION AND PROPOSAL.

As soon as we take into account the entire situation in a case
of intercourse of any kind, we find certain points of view from
which the same meaning may be considered. There are always
at least two persons to the situation, and if we distinguish these
persons as ' speaker ' and ' hearer,' we have the two personal
elements marked off. Each of the persons is either already in
possession of the judgmental meaning or he is not. If he is,
then he is in role, if not in fact, * speaker ' ; that is to say, the
meaning is that which he might utter in place of the actual
speaker ; and whatever term we apply to the function of ex-
pressing this meaning, it may be put down as applying to his act
of -participation in the situation. On the other hand, there is
the point of view of the one to whom the intelligence imparted
by the meaning is in some sense not already his meaning, but
an addition to it, or a modification of it. He is the « hearer '-
no matter how many of him there may be ! The shadings of
meaning involved may be distributed under this two fold divi-
sion— the speaker's meaning and the hearer's meaning.

The next thing that occurs to us to note is that each of these
persons, speaker and hearer, may have in his mind either a
meaning which he believes or a meaning which he questions :
either a * logical or a ' schematic' meaning; a * presupposition'
or an 'assumption' may underlie the relational subject-matter
that constitutes the predication. And there must also be sup-
posed a form of correlation between these two types of mean-
ing, considered as being in a situation in which the speaker and
hearer get the same subject-matter at the same time — as indeed
they must lest intercourse lose its commonness and so be futile.

This analysis when pursued exhaustively gives the following
cases :

1. Belief in the subject-matter on the part of the speaker,
and predication that serves to elucidate the subject-matter : this
we may call predication as elucidation. If this is accompanied
by belief before the predication, in the mind of any actual hearer,
the meaning to him is also one of elucidation, for he might have
been the speaker.

2. Question in the mind of the speaker and predication that

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE. 195

in some form proposes something ; this we may call -predication
as -proposal. If it be met by belief in the mind of the hearer —
belief already formed — it is to the hearer not proposal but eluci-
dation ; and he in turn may proceed to elucidate the proposal of
the questioner. If, on the contrary, the hearer joins the speaker
in erecting the subject-matter into a schema of problematical
meaning, his meaning is then also one of proposal.

There are therefore four possible cases : (i) Proposal —
(with) Proposal, (2) Proposal — Elucidation , (3) Elucidation —
Elucidation , and (4) Elucidation — Proposal \ in each case the
meaning in the mind of the speaker standing first. Suppose,
for example, a teacher teaching his class. The pupil says ' A
continent is really an island, isn't it?' (proposal), and the
teacher replies either * yes ' (elucidation) — case (2) — or ' let
us look in the dictionary and see ' (proposal) — case (i). After
looking up the dictionary, both pupil and teacher may say, * it
is an island, as we thought ' (elucidation with elucidation) —
case (3) — or the teacher may say, ' I still question what you
read ' (elucidation with proposal) — case (4). It must not be sup-
posed that * elucidation — proposal* and * proposal — elucida-
tion ' give the same situation ; they do not. The former is the
situation in which there is exposition with reference to which the
hearer has not arrived at an assenting judgment ; the latter, on
the other hand, is the case of a question met by an elucidating
response. The latter is the more fruitful situation, genetically,
since it results in actual development of meaning in the mind
of the questioner, giving a third term of elucidation ; and if this
be also stated, the progression becomes proposal — elucidation —
elucidation. The other case, that of elucidation — proposal, is
not of this fruitful issue, unless it be followed by a further eluci-
dation by the first speaker, and then an elucidation also in the
mind of the hearer ; but this latter pair of terms brings in one of
the other situations mentioned above, that of elucidation —
elucidation.

Putting it in general terms, we may say first that a statement
may be met by acceptance or by question, and second, that a
statement of question may be met by a belief or by a joint ques-
tion. The instrumental utility, and with it the genetic justifica-

196 /. MARK BALDWIN.

tion, of these four cases of predicative meaning should be
examined. In each of them we find that all predication, and
with it all use of logical meaning, is in some important sense
experimental r, when once the social point of view essential to its
full interpretation is taken up.

§ 6. PREDICATION AS EXPERIMENTAL MEANING.
It would appear on the surface that if logical meaning is to
be common, and thus socially available for intercourse, its forms
must be those by which on occasion the enlargement of the range
of acceptance could be secured. The forms of predication
would then be ipso facto instrumental to the production of fur-
ther judgment and belief. But certain considerations force
themselves upon us which forbid so easy an instrumental inter-
pretation. We have seen that the growth of knowledge cannot
be entirely personal and private ; the necessities of social life,
which are also personal, forbid. But it is equally true that the
securing of common acceptance, and the enlargement of the body
of inter-personal acknowledgments, cannot go on alone, as being
the entire fulfilment of the role of knowledge ; for the individ-
ual's judgment is all the while the norm of what is established
as knowledge, and without individual consent there is no social
acceptance? The propagation of a thought in a social set can
only be by the intrinsic adoption of the thought by the indi-
viduals of the set one by one. Any other process would make
not common knowledge but common hypothesis or proposal,
with no relatively final solution or elucidation in knowledge.
In such a case the final criterion to the individual thinker would
not arise in his own processes of selective thought, but would
be a calculus as to how many of the community already accepted
it. Catholicity would take the place of what we call logical
reasonableness or validity.1

1 A sort of social pragmatism might be constructed along this line by rein-
terpreting— as we have — the individual's judgment of reasonableness back
into the field of social acceptance — the 'hole from whence it was digged.'
But this is just what current pragmatism is unable to do, since its entire develop-
ment is on the basis of the reconstruction of experience in the individual, for
'control* by personal action. The question I put to this latter theory is how, if
the dualism of inner and outer be one whose value is its instrumental utility
for the control of action — how can self and other individuals — how can
society — have any common meaning? A resort to a social discipline of in-
dividual judgment would seem to be shut out from the start.

THO UGHT A ND LANG UA GE. 1 97

There is in short the attitude toward society expressed in the
sentence, « / believe, therefore have I spoken '--the attitude
of conviction, ccelum ruat — as well as the attitude, ' I would
believe, help thou mine unbelief — the attitude of social
acquiescence. And we should expect that besides the evidently
instrumental character of the appeal to society, there would be
a corresponding instrumental appeal of society to the rules of
individual thought. Put in terms of predication this would read
— social proposals require individual elucidation, and individual
proposals require social elucidation. The very development of
knowledge, if it is to issue in a system of what we may call
' truths,' requires that both these forms of confirmation be present
all the while.

Apart, however, from further theoretical discussion, we may
point out the fact that as expressive of attitudes toward mental
objects, meanings reach the poise and equilibrium of knowledge
only through a two-fold elucidation. That of the speaker is
still to invoke that of the hearer; that of the hearer is again
submitted to the judgment of a second hearer when the former
becomes speaker. The judgment of the individual is forever
fed by the return wave from the circulation through the social
tissue. On the other hand, the social set are never all convinced,
and the outriders of society must be subdued to the informing
and reasonable elucidation of the dominating individuals.

The process of formation of what we call < truth ' is, there-
fore, a continuous and dialectic one. Apart from the definition
of the term truth, and the justification of its use for a body of
subject-matter constituted as logical content, we may say that
there are several sorts of truth. A predication which a thinker
elucidates is true so far as it is not ineligible to the hearer's
elucidation and belief ; but it may still actually be mere hypo-
thesis or proposal to the hearer to whom the elucidation is
addressed. Again, a matter of social convention, of confident
social elucidation and advertisement by acclamation, is true in
so far as it is not ineligible, not mere proposal, to any indi-
vidual thinker, for the same item is perpetually subject to the
sharp-shooting of the more expert intellectual marksmen to
whom the social judgment looks for its reconstruction and

198 /. MARK BALDWIN.

direction. There are two sides to the dialectic, two poles around
which the web of truth must be stretched ; and until both sides
be compassed and both poles surrounded, truth is unfinished.

From the instrumental point of view we discover, therefore,
two sorts of schematism or proposal ; and it is a result to which
our discussions now directly converge that both are never finally
banished — that thought — and 'with it truth — remains in one
sense or the other experimental to the last.

Proceeding now to isolate the typical cases of proposal in-
volved in situations of intercourse we find them to be two.
First, there is the attitude or intent of question in the speaker,
of proposal or assumption of something he himself does not yet
believe or presuppose : this is the attitude in which the individual
explicitly appeals to social conversion in order that his sche-
matic context may be confirmed for his own acceptance and judg-
ment. Second, there is the attitude of question in the hearer,
the audience, the public, in presence of the elucidations of the
speaker : this is the attitude in which the social set, the general
intelligence, waits upon the judgment and predication of the
individual that the final availability of its meanings may be
assured. In the former case, there is the question, will it work
in the whole of society ? — will it bear the social test ? In the lat-
ter case, there is the question, will it work in the individual's
system of established beliefs ? — will it bear the test of competent
private judgment? — is it reasonable?

These are the two tests always present in the determination
of new matter in the system of meanings in the logical mode —
the two tests of truth. They are the test of commonness and the
test of reasonableness, both being aspects of the intrinsic intent
of all logical predication. They are the poles of reference of
logical meaning in its growth, as first ' syndoxic ' or * held1 in
common,' then synnomic or * judged as common,' and finally
6 catholic ' or * judged in common.' The * reasonableness ' of
the synnomic is just the * appropriateness ' attaching to a mean-
ing whose social intent faces both back-ward and forward.

A further word on the relation of these two tests to each
other.

1 That is, "assumed" or "presumed" in common in a mode short of
judgment.

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE. 199

First, it should be borne in mind that we are here not con-
cerned, except in certain secondary ways, with the commonness
of mere catholicity as numerical measure of acceptance ; but
with that more profound ingredient in knowledge whereby, in
its very formation, the individual judgment intends a common
meaning. The judgment of the individual once formed is nec-
essarily a common judgment to him : it is synnomic in the
sense of our earlier discussion. But the experimental process
— the growth of this faculty of judgment in just this synnomic
direction, both racially and in each individual — requires a
series of situations in which the proposed or schematic mean-
ings of the individual have first the syndoxic character "in
common," and so pass into judgments. The simplest case, of
course, is one of fact in which the individual is not already
possessed of the requisite information, and awaits the elucida-
tion— the narrative — of another. He then, with this increase
of syndoxic information, forms a judgment of his own that is
synnomic. Thus arises a judgment of fact, the report of the
other taking the place, by the operation of social conversion, of
his own appeal to fact. Before such an appeal, or the recep-
tion of the equivalent information, his opinion would have been
schematic and assumptive. It is this case, in which the accre-
tion to knowledge is a matter of fact, whether reached by direct
or by social confirmation, that has given rise to the description
of this test as the « test of fact.'

In the more recondite operations of thought, the essential
appeal is the same. It is for that informing element of content
or meaning, derived through the common context of socially
established fact, that brings out the synthesis of judgment.
The individual resorts to some source apart from his own ready-
formed context of meanings used by him hypothetically, some
word of fact in the larger sense, through which his assumption
may be grounded and his belief justified. The essential redis-
tribution of meanings that constitutes the process of assimi-
lation of the proposed data to the body of experience, now takes
place. In the result the item gets its assimilation, and the con-
text of believed and grounded items is so far enlarged.

The other test is different in its nature ; but being a real test,

200 /. MARK BALD WIN.

it is equally instrumental to the development of thought. It is
that of items proposed for social acceptance but awaiting the
judgment of the individual. It is the appeal to the * reasonable-
ness ' in which the competent thinker renders his synnomic
meanings.

We have said above that this resort to the formed judgment
of the individual is necessary to social acceptance — the accept-
ance of grounded social judgment. * Commonness ' in the
simpler senses of that term — the meanings of < common ' short
of the syndoxic l — such commonness may exist without logical
bearing of any kind. There may be mere social aggregate-
ness. But the passage from what we may call social proposal —
rumor, contagion, plastic imitation, etc. — however aggregate it
may be, and however socially diffused, into the status of logically
common meaning, is always through the mediation of the judg-
ment of individuals. All ' social meaning as such/ and all
' public ' meaning resting upon it, are subject to the test of
4 reasonableness ' to the individual thinker. Social commonness,
in short, rests upon individual acceptance or ' reasonableness ' ;
while individual acceptance as * reasonable,' has its roots in
social commonness. The test whereby the social proposal, the
aggregate or relatively catholic meaning, becomes one of genu-
ine logical character, we therefore call the * test of reasonable-
ness'2 as contrasted with < the test of fact.'3

1 See the descriptions of such meanings in my Genetic Logic, Vol. I., chap.
VII., \\ 5 ff.

2 1 take the term ' reasonableness ' as covering the general mark of knowl-
edge wherein it satisfies and fulfils theoretical or logical interest from C. S.
Peirce. As popularly used it has just the ambiguity of confusing the two phases
of attitude we are trying so strenuously to separate, acceptance and assumption.
We ordinarily say we believe a thing because it is ' reasonable ' and also that we
assume a thing because it seems ' reasonable.' This means that it is by a transi-
tion of attitude, rather than by a change of content, that knowledge and
hypothesis are distinguished. A definite set of implications are reasonable,
grounded, believed ; a set of assumptions not believed but only proposed, are
also reasonable so far as they go in leading up to belief. It is to the former
intent, that of actual acceptance, that I shall apply the term.

'It may be recalled that in the treatment of 'Selective Thinking' in
another place (Devel. and Evolution^ chap. XVII.), I worked out certain tests
from the individual point of view, calling them respectively ' test of fact ' and
' test of habit. ' The test of habit is what is here, from the psychic point of
view, recognized as schematic assumption. In order not to repeat what is said

THO UGHT AND LANG UA GE. 2O I

The factors involved in this two-fold dialectical move-
ment may be shown by the following diagram. It should be
remembered that it is the progress, or determination, of mean-
ing from proposal (assumption) to elucidation (belief), that is
in question, and not the development of pure implication or
elucidation as a body of related contents already fully deter-
mined.

Personal Proposal --^^^ ^^^ Social Proposal

(Habit) ^^^X^L=:^ (Convention)

Personal Judgment ^ - >-:>>> Social Judgment

(Reasonableness} Fact\

Truth

The point of interest just here does not reside in the further
explication of either of these tests ; it resides rather in the state-
ment that no predicated or judged knowledge is ever free from
that instrumental and problematic reference which one or other
of these tests would further fulfil. Either that which is reason-
able is still to be elucidated for some mode of acceptance, or that
which is generally accepted is still to be proposed for individual
confirmation as reasonable.

The process of intercourse, therefore, to be all that it is for
thought, requires that elucidation should perpetually fulfil the
demand set by the correlative function of proposal. The social
reference of thought is all the way along prospective as well as
retrospective : prospective, in that it presupposes a proposing
society for which further elucidation is necessary ; retrospective,
in that it incorporates in its own competent judgment, just that
strain of commonness which only an earlier prospective refer-
fully there, I may simply call attention to the treatment in that place of (i)
the ' platform ' or level of determination or systematic meaning from which all
new items are selected as assumptions, and (2) the resulting theory of truth as
that which having passed the ' gauntlet of habit ' or assumption then has to
submit to the test of fact. Truth in the realm of empirical discovery, then, is
what is in this twofold way selected. What is now added is the point that
the hearer, society, does the same : brings back its ' assumption ' as mere social
habit to the test of individual endorsement as 'reasonable.'

1 The socially established meaning may always be classed as ' fact ' since
it has no further role save as established control or test of the individual's
meanings.

202 J. MARK BALD WIN.

ence in its own case could have produced. Put differently, we
may say that if, at any point, truth can be considered finished
and absolute, not subject to further growth, but only capable of
repeated elucidation, then at an earlier stage it might, for the
same reason, have been so considered, and its present stage
would not have been attained. And so on all the way down
the line of racial progress. But, on the contrary, the elucida-
tions of one generation only bring out the proposals of the next ;
the elucidations of society, the proposals of the man of genius.
And in both cases the extraordinary thing is that in the pro-
posal that requires a new platform of elucidation, the table is
turned upon the thinker who makes his knowledge final. The
judgmental content must be * set' as final, seeing that it is com-
mon, synnomic, retrospective and in so far also legislative for
all intelligences. But the newer gage of reasonableness, on
the one hand, or of fact on the other hand, once thrown down
with its claim to a new finality, the process of vital reorganiza-
tion again goes forward. The older truth loses its presupposi-
tions or finds them restated in a new set of postulations.

It is not in order at this point to indicate the bearing of this
result in a theory of knowledge considered as epistemology.
We are later on to consider the question as to which if either of
these points of view, these tests, these references to facts and to
theoretic satisfactions, is the more fundamental. The whole
matter is here one of genetic adjustment of motive factors in a
whole function. If one care to select one aspect of the whole
and say, * thought being experimental and instrumental and
prospective, is pragmatic through and through ; ' very well, so
it is, from this aspect of it — the aspect of accommodation, dis-
covery, development. But if another select the other aspect and
say ' all thought is retrospective, a platform, an organization, a
social and common meaning, having its relational forms and
rules of predication, a matter of habit and theoretical worth ' -
what is to prevent his doing so? But both are partial, both
abstractions. Knowledge is a specific organization within
whose subject-matter characters appear, on the one hand, that
fulfil the theoretical interest without which no elucidation, predi-
cation, implication, language^ would be possible ; and again,

THO UGHT AND LANG UA GE. 203

knowledge is an adjustment, motived by a * pragmatelic,' end-
embracing interest, without which no theoretical organization
or meaning could ever have been developed. No good social
psychology? and no epistemology based upon such a psychology,
will be long content with either of these partial and fragmentary
interpretations.1

The conclusions we have now reached are these : (i) that
all elucidation, all predication that is really judgmental, all
inner organization of thought in a system of implications, has
been developed with constant reference to proposals to which it
is the reply and elucidation, and (2) that all instrumental refer-
ence of knowledge, all discovery, all postulation, all practical
insight through truth, are possible only on a basis of established
judgmental content whose adequate theoretical elucidation it
presupposes. And the reason of both these statements may be
put in a sentence — the reason is that knowledge is common pro-
perty not an individual -possession, that individual judgment
presupposes universal acceptance, and that truth is fitted always
not only to satisfy somebody's theoretical interest, but also to
stir up somebody 's curiosity and practical impulse. 2

1 It may be said here, and has been said to me by a thinker who calls him-
self a ' pragmatist,' that we are still in the entire process dealing with a develop-
ment for which the movement of cognition is instrumental: the development of
psychic activity or function as such. To this I do not object, if we include
objective meaning with function ; although when I come to think it through I
find the result very far removed from what is usually called ' pragmatism. ' The
whole development is, on the basis of our results, a social development, a larger
social order, and with its postulation goes the contrast meaning, postulated
equally in the logical mode, of a non-social and non-mental order, an environ-
ment. A dualism thus persists and will not down — a dualism whose implica-
tions forbid a return to any sort of subjective interpretation of reality, as reached
by thought, which confines it to what is relatively organized in the individual's
habit. The solution is to be found only in some sort of experience that is
not indeed a-logical, but super-logical and immediate in its mode.

2 This genetic process of building up a competent individual judgment, as-
serting its individuality as over against the social body which is its very fons
et origo, is seen to be a phase of the * dialectic of personal and social growth '
developed in detail in my work Social and Ethical Interpretations. It is there
shown that the consciousness of the personal self is formed and becomes rela-
tively self -asserting, as over against society, by a process of imitative assimila-
tion and ejective re-reading of social material, so that the individual is 'a social
outcome, rather then a social unit.'

204 /• MARK BALD WIN.

Language embodies, if our general position be true, that
stretch of cognitive meaning that is both individually accepted
and socially rendered. It shows the concurrence of the two
points of view from which the development of thought may
be observed. Moreover so far as the individual's psychic life is
looked upon as one of relative isolation from his fellows, as a
center, that is, of personal and subjective meanings, the stream
of his personal development merges concurrently into that of
the social whole in those meanings which he can render by
speech. His other meanings, the purely selective ones, the
appreciations and the quasi-con ative ones, the sorts of intent
that fulfil his personal interests and purposes, together with the
purely private ones of the fugitive sort that never acquire social
validity — all these lie outside the sphere of intercourse and fail
of linguistic embodiment.1 We can, indeed, imagine modes of
social expression — we have them possibly in the crude quasi-
linguistic symbolism, of some of the higher animals — in which
this concurrent rendering of meanings personally in private
judgment and also socially in common acceptance, has gone
very little way. A society with only gesture language would
be one with little such concurrent development ; and one with
only pictographic signs would be relatively rude in respect to
that aspect of development represented by written language.

The principal and striking thing about language, how-
ever, as thus being both personal and social vehicle of thought,
is its testimony to the falsity of any individualistic theory of
thought. Thought must be social in order to be adequately
personal, as we have seen : language summarizes and demon-
strates this necessity. The gradual development of language
shows the impulse and necessity for intercourse both as ped-
agogical instrument in the hands of society and also as vehicle
of the individuals informing and reforming work in society.

1 It has been interestingly shown, however, by Prof. Urban that there is a
sort of ' appreciative description ' whereby such meanings may be indirectly
suggested by verbal description (Philosophical Review, Nov., 1905). It would
appear quite possible to arouse in another an appreciative state like one's own by
the use of indirect symbolism. We have the general resort of taking advantage
of what is called above (in my Vol. I.) the ' commonness of common function ' —
of exciting a common function by ' analogous feeling stimuli,' to use Darwin's
classic phrase.

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL AND THE POSSI-
BILITY OF A PSYCHO-MECHANIC.

BY THE LATE C. L. HERRICK.1
I.

One may accept, with all the assurance that ideas in this
field are capable of exciting, the doctrine that energy is the
real and that its « standing in relation/ or limitation, is the basis
of substance, while one perceives no less clearly than the dual-
istic philosopher the fundamental contrast between self and the
outside world.

It is no part of our purpose to minimize this contrast or to
detract from the respect which we feel for the spiritual as con-
trasted to the phenomenal world. Here our analysis must be
patient and close and each step must be carefully scrutinized
but with the constant recollection that everything cannot be said
at once.

Even at the risk of using terms that have been much abused
at times we are now prepared to realize the difference between
phenomena and epiphenomena. A certain form of energy, ex-
pressed in alternating modes (a resultant of limitation or inter-
ference) impinges on equilibrated energy in an animal organ-
ism in such forms as to modify the latter. (We are well aware
that torrents of energy are continually passing through our
bodies and even our brains without awakening any response,
and we also know something of the nature of the correspond-
ences by which interaction is rendered possible and do not
doubt that even these unperceived currents might, by appropri-
ate transformations become suited for * food for thought') . The
equilibrated organism is affected (in extreme cases the equilib-
rium is destroyed) and the equation of the subsequent life of the
equilibrium is permanently modified.

But the first result is a state (act) of consciousness. From
the nature of the equilibrium it follows that only one interfer-

1 Unrevised MS. submitted, as the author left it, by C. J. Herrick. — ED.

205

206 C. L HER RICK.

ence can occur at any given moment of time. An equilibrated
system may be constantly varying but it is always one system.

Note, however, that the unitary nature of an equilibrium
does not prevent all sorts of fusions in the external stimuli be-
fore they affect consciousness. Thus an instantaneous view of
an object may produce a synthesis which can be remembered
in terms of multiplicity. But the analysis by judgment of a
composite of various impressions does not prove that the act of
perception was multiple in any given moment of time. The
perception of a chord in music is a single act, though we may
subsequently analyze it into elementary sense stimuli.

Experience is, therefore, composed of a series of impres-
sions, a, b, £, etc., and these are projected as a phenomenal
series, p, q, r, etc. But this is not all. Together with the
subjective series there is something else which is not variable —
which serves to make a series of the isolated facts of experi-
ence— which binds the experience series into a whole. This
might be a constant from the organism, thus : ax, bx, ex, etc.,
so that each time a, b or c is experienced it is accompanied by
a feeling tone from the organism and from this we derive x (a,
b, £, etc.), x being a constant furnished by the organism in the
act of experiencing.

In the same way the phenomenal series is affected by a
somewhat, thus : -py, qy, ry, etc., giving rise to y (p, q, r, etc.),
where y is that constant which produces the sense of an external
continuum or external world.

More specifically, what is ,*•? It may be suggested that the
somatic sensations which, from their diffuseness, never enter
consciousness in analyzed or differentiated form, constitute a
background of consciousness which is at least relatively con-
stant and serves as an x to be affixed to every a, b, and c of
experience. If this were true then it would follow, if one were
cut off from all such organic sensations by being paralyzed, let
us say, in all afferent paths of somatic nervous discharge, no x
would be supplied and one would have no * self ' concept or
factor with which to affect the series of experiences, and it
would remain a simple series of discrete sensations a-b-c.
There are facts of pathological experience which go to prove

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 207

that some such truncation of self does follow from the shunting
out of the somatic part of experience and we have every reason
to know that the background of somatic or organic experience
is a very useful means of synthesis for the remainder of ex-
perience and also a very prominent element in the * self tone
which goes to make up temperament and disposition.

But our analysis would need to be more minute than this.
It is supposable, nay probable, that the very existence of a neural
equilibrium implies such activities as would keep up a tension of
experience which, during a state of relative repose, might be
undefined and unperceived, would be constantly varied by each
break in the reposeful state, as when, for example, an external
stimulus is received. Thus we may suppose, the material for
self-consciousness would be preserved to some extent so long as
the ability to receive stimuli at all remained.

X then, is that constant of effort recognized (implicitly) at
each presentation of an element of experience #, £, c, and the
recognition of this constant factor in the variable series is what
gives rise to the notion (which is of the nature of a dim feeling
at first as x itself is a feeling of tone) of a continuous self, cotem-
poraneous with and existing between the series of experience.
It seems to be a limitation of our consciousness that we do not
experience unfilled intervals. In the experience of unlikes, #,
3, £, etc., there is presented with these elements or between
them, the recognition of change, thus : a (change), b (change),
c, etc., which cuts the series into units of experience. On the
other hand the series of subjective increments #, #, #, etc., has
no such cleavage phenomena and fuses into one continuing x
. . . etc. An absolutely unvaried experience, being incapable
of analysis, has no succession and does not fall into the category
of time. So we have the curious duplicity of experience of a
broken series and a continuum or identity side by side with the
former. This we express thus : x (a, 3, c) and the constant is
the elementary self of consciousness, a something invariable in
the midst of variety and permanent in the midst of fluctuating
experience. To this constant the variables are referred.

But we are not guilty in every day life of the refinements
that have been discussed above. We do not ordinarily stop to

208 C. L. HERRICK.

consider the objectivity of the body to the conscious mechanism
at all. Not merely the organic (and as such unreferred) sen-
sations, but the relatively constant sensations of bodily presence
and effort are readily and constantly recognized as having a
greater constancy than sensations for which we have analytic
sense organs, such as the visual and tactual sensations. These
bodily sense stimuli are reported'continually, and, just in so far
as they are constant, they are not specially perceived. They
pass over as factors of the mental equilibrium and are only per-
ceived at such times as some change occurs or attention is
directed to them for some reason. These sensations form a
vast penumbra about the x of self-consciousness so that we have
(x, xf ', #", etc.) (#, 3, £, etc.) and are able to recognize some
of the factors of the subjective (x) series objectively and x "
may, for example, equal c on occasion, /". e., the same sensory
element may at one time form a part of the subjective con-
stant and at another become an objective variable. At any rate
the entire body furnishes us ' self-material ' which can only be
separated from the self-consciousness by a process of mental
analysis, while in actual experience it is a real element in itself.

It has been suggested by M. Rabier1 that " it were to little
purpose if, the brain having been indefinitely enlarged, we could
move about in it as in a mill ; or having become transparent like
glass, our sight might traverse it from part to part. We
would see there no more psychological phenomena than we see
in a mill or in a sphere of crystal/' and this is true for the simple
reason that it is the * sight traversing it from part to part ' and
the ' moving about ' and the * seeing ' that would be, by defini-
tion, psychological. If we could imagine the mill as a whole
having a center of gravity in which all of its complex strains
were referred and which persisted, ever changing but never de-
stroyed, or could think of the crystal as having an optical
center in which its various optical axes and bisectrices focused,
and could imagine these centers of equilibrated forces being
self-conscious, then the illustration might have some relevancy.

When the spiritualist insists that the psychological is some-
thing sui generis and distinct from the physical, we agree, if

1 Lefonsde Philosophic, T. I., p. 29.

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 209

only he will go far enough and recognize why this diversity
exists and how complete and hopeless a separation it really is.
But this he fails to do. He proceeds at once to set these two
ways of looking at activity as two commensurable and coexist-
ing realities in the world and gives to the psychical (which
differs from the physical because it is subjective and, so far as
our powers of discrimination go, only for this reason) a separate
objective existence. This is one of the most singular, most
persistent, and most hopeless of logical absurdities in current
metaphysics.

When I, as a psychologist, examine my neighbor, I actually
do attempt to enter his brain very much as Rabier describes.
I find focussing there various activities. I find there a pro-
digious mechanism for bringing diverse stimuli together in one
continuum in the cortex. So far from a device for projecting
stimuli upon one point, as imagined by Descartes and most
speculative philosophers, the stimuli suffer a sort of dispersion
in their path toward the field of consciousness. I discover that
this mechanism is in a terrific state of activity. Currents of
blood and lymph supplying highly complicated currents of
energy are passing through the mechanism continually and
doubtless the energy actually operating in the brain, if convert-
able into gross forms of work, would lift many tons literally
miles high daily, for we deal here with what the physicist would
call intra-molecular types of forces as well as molecular and
molar forces. Now all this vast activity reveals itself to us in
scarcely any commensurate return. Just as the spectator look-
ing at the solar system would see little evidence of the energy
expressed in the equilibrated system of planets, every molecule of
which is brim-full of activity in balanced condition, so looking
at the brain as a mechanism for mental work, we find it set on
a hair trigger, and a breath on an eye-lash is adequate stimulus
to liberate vast stores of readjusting energy.

All the various discoveries which I may make, as a neu-
rologist viewing my neighbor's brain, and all the observations I
make as a psychologist upon the reactions to stimuli connected
with that organism, supplemented by the study of the defici-
encies and aberrations resulting from extirpation or accidental

210 C. L. HER RICK.

removal of more or less of the mechanism, go simply to show
that, beyond question, his physiological activities closely re-
semble my own and I am driven to conclude that he has feelings
like mine. This inference is substantiated as fully as any mere
inference can be and is the foundation on which the adjustment
of all social activities is made.

A music director expends enormous sums to import from
Europe a man who is able to cause thirty or forty other men to
move horse-hair bows and metallic reeds and columns of air in
certain prearranged fashions, and invites thousands of other
people to pay large sums to attend the resulting commotion of
air, because he feels sure that by such antics as these the spirit-
ual ideas of the profoundest masters of human emotions may be
reproduced in the souls of the thousands of listening individuals.
And, making certain necessary allowances, and within narrow
limits, he is correct. If there is anything that can be said to be
known, it is this : when a cortical complex in the brain of one
man is caused to react in a certain way, the consciousness of
that individual will be affected in a way closely similar to that
in which a similiar cortical disturbance in another man will re-
act. To say that the brain does not affect the mind is to talk
nonsense, and no one really believes such a statement, or else it
is to talk the most recondite metaphysics and the statement stands
badly in need of interpretation.

Yet we still admit, nay assert, that the psychical, as psychical
is sni generis, entirely other from and non-commensurable with
any physical process. Let us take some crude illustrations :

Here is a thing . . . yonder is the picture of it.

Here is a man at work . . . yonder is the time book.

Here is a rifle ball moving . . . yonder is its locus formula.

Here is an act of perception . . . yonder is a representation

formed by it.

Let us attempt to apply the idea. A sensation is produced, then
another and another. These leave behind them altered condi-
tions of equilibrium. It is not so much that in two cells or com-
plexes a vestige, in terms of structural alteration, has been left,
but it is better expressed that among the streams of interblend-
ing forces in this equilibrium, one stream or line of communi-

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 21 1

cation has been reinforced. After a frequent repetition of this
upsetting of the equilibrium there results a permanent distortion
in the form, so that, in the long run, as a result of experience,
education, etc., no single stimulus can gain admission to the
sensorium without reawakening and bringing with it a perfect
rain of associated activities, or perhaps better, the curve repre-
senting the trajectory of the new intruder to consciousness is
one made up of the contribution from without and the vastly
greater contribution from within.

Thus our field of knowledge of the external world gains in
complexity and there is presented to consciousness with every
color, sound, or feeling, a panorama already interpreted and
elaborated in which the new presentation is placed with relations
of all kinds to the complex.

This fabric of the imagination is the external world. The
new presentation may be a line in the spectrum with a certain
position and color. The observer proceeds to imagine a new
element in the sun with certain physical properties and, later on,
it may be, he identifies the same element on the earth. The
educated imagination has thus vindicated itself.

Now which is the reality in my subjective furnishing? But
stay, we are not yet ready for this question. It is conceivable
that one might by sufficiently delicate processes of investigation
detect the vestigial * structural ' or dynamic changes in the
brain or in the force complex which it represents, resulting from
experience, and thus make these objective to me in the case of
my neighbor and by transferring the results to self, as one
would be abundantly justified in doing, conceive of identical
residual furnishing in his own mental home. But even so, this
is something different from the experiencing of these changes
or of thinking things in terms of the phenomenal world.

Then the doing or the thinking is the thing, and the phan-
tasmagoria called the external world is relative or unreal? No,
not at all. To attempt to discriminate the thinking from the
thought, the doing from what is done is folly. This hair ab-
solutely refuses to be split. The reality consists in thinking a
thing — of affirmation of attribute — of union of subject and
object.

212 C. L. HERRI CK.

We as souls are indissolubly connected with the rest of the
universe and there is no use attempting to sever what God
has united. Finally, therefore, we perhaps see that the psychi-
cal differs from the physical as the result of a logical analysis
which is possible by reason of our limitation. So long as indi-
viduality shuts us up to one point in consciousness, and so long
as consciousness seems to require equilibrated energy as a con-
dition of its unity, so long this distinction of subjective (psychi-
cal) from objective (physical) will remain in force and will be
to us the most vital of all distinctions.

This is, you may say, a point of view simply. To this we
answer, in one sense, yes ; but, from the standpoint of pure
philosophy, it is the discrimination of attribute from essence.
So far as I am concerned, this distinction is vital, but in my
consideration of other men it has no significance at all. But
surely other men have cousciousness. Yes, and they doubtless
discriminate subjective from objective (their essence from attri-
bute), but men cannot be at the same time subjective and objec-
tive, and that they are other men makes them objective to me.

What then of the souls of other men? We escape from
psychology when we ask this question for, by the prevailing
definition, other men can have no souls. It is a curious ab-
surdity growing out of the restrictive attitude of modern sciences
whose hedges have grown so high that the workers can see only
their own little plot of ground, forgetting that the same free air
of heaven blows over all — it is a curious absurdity we say,
growing out of the restriction of psyche to consciousness that
there can be a psychology only of my individual experience and
such a thing as a general science of psychology is impossible.
The result is that what is now called psychology is a composite
of neural physiology and non-related tags and scraps from indi-
vidual consciousness.

Relying on the belief in the underlying unity of energy, we
may attempt to explore a region where, apparently, angels have
feared to tread and offer suggestions toward a -psycho-mechanic.

II.

Our work so far has accomplished one result (let us hope)
which should lighten the task of construing the conscious life

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 213

in connection with what is termed ordinary physical manifesta-
tions ; it has, namely, shown that the physical and the psychi-
cal inhere in one reality, an activity. If the energist be correct
in viewing the phenomena of the physical universe as manifes-
tations of various phases of one universal, indestructible but
convertible energy, and if psychology be correct in asserting
that all mental states are acts, and, furthermore, if we are not
so blinded by prejudice as to shut our eyes to the overwhelming
evidence of the interaction of these two sorts of activities (a fact
more certain than any other whatever) then we are driven to con-
clude that body and mind are phases of one reality — that con-
sciousness is not unrelated to gravitation, but is a part of the
same universe of activity.

This as an abstract statement would give rise to few diffi-
culties, but when it comes to the fact of our personal conscious-
ness, this event seems unlike any other which we picture to our-
selves as taking place in the world at large. It comes home to
me as something intimate and self-acting — as myself, an ac-
tivity sui generis. This contrasted condition of out-there-ness,
which we feel in connection with an objectivized experience, as
against the I-here-ness of subjectivity, is a necessary result of
individuality.

But we believe that every other individual has this same
kind of consciousness and yet his * I-here-ness ' becomes ' out-
there-ness ' to me. This distinction is, therefore, in this sense,
a point of view, not a difference in form of activity.

Here arises a difficulty. A view-point presupposes a view-
ing subject. How are we to form any concept of such a sub-
ject? Is it not simplest to follow illustrious example and say
frankly that this subject is a soul, of which we know nothing
except that we are it f But, inasmuch as it is possible or neces-
sary for us to abstract from it any quality of which we can form
an objective concept, the soul represents simply the residuum
after such objectivization, an empty capacity for being — some-
thing back of all that we ever did or experienced, our own suf-
ficient reason.

To this result we are not, as dynamic monists, exactly
driven, though we agree with the conventional conclusion that

214 C. L. HER RICK.

I am a soul. We differ in being unwilling to discard all the
realities of existence in defining the soul. If we were obliged
to use the postulate of matter our quest would end here for it
has appeared evident to all philosophic minds from the earliest
times that the soul cannot be material.

For our present point of view this difficulty is removed and
only one prepossession or preliminary concept is necessary, viz.,
that the mechanism of consciousness is dynamic. Only on this
presumption can psychical phenomena be linked to the world
of experience. Another attribute of the soul is at once recog-
nized— it is an indivisible continuum and is simple. We need
not take into account subconscious * psychical ' activities. Non-
psychical psychical activities may have a meaning to a certain
kind of mind, but it is difficult to see what inducement could be
offered such a mind to study psychology.

Consciousness is unitary yet it is wonderfully complex. It
is conceivable that the whole magnificent panorama of nature
might be reflected upon it if our sensory apparatus were com-
plete enough and yet the resultant at any given time would be
a unit of consciousness. This is not a fact of introspection
merely. Its philosophical necessity is bound up in the concept
of individuality.

One may picture to himself a mechanism of cortical cells at
the end of a series of * projection systems ' as complex as pos-
sible, and imagine every cortical cell in ceaseless activity.
These subconscious phenomena might be as complex as
possible but consciousness is always one. On the material
hypothesis the one-ness of consciousness led anatomists and
physiologists to postulate some center — some pineal gland —
where all the various activities should impinge on some one ele-
ment. As a matter of fact, this concept serves but to increase
the difficulties. What is the use of all the complicated mechan-
ism if all the changes have to be transmitted to one cell or cell-
group? Either that cell group is marvelously complex and
mirrors the complexities of the brain at large, or else there is
some unity, not material, which can receive all these various
influences and convert them into a unitary state of conscious-
ness. Why one organ should be necessary in order to bring

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 215

the complexity to bear on the simple nature of the immaterial
soul, no one can say.

On the dynamic view, however, we readily see that one
condition alone corresponds to the requirements of the given
phenomena and that is a condition of equilibrium. Diverse proc-
esses experience a unification only if brought into equilibrium.1
Such a condition we have postulated.

Before attempting to apply this idea let us examine other
dynamic elements in the hope of securing illustrations in a less
complex sphere. In a uniform medium, as has abundantly
been shown, the only condition of individuality is that of vector
activity. Vortex rings serve as illustrations. The discussion
of vortex atoms has brought out this peculiarity. Two forms of
activity appeal to our senses, first, progressive or translational
or molar, second, self-centered or vector activities. In the first
case the point is conceived as moving in a right line or some
other progressive manner so that the motion is indeterminate, in
the second case the motion is cyclical and the center of refer-
ence is stable. In ordinary parlance, when a body falls, the
motion is of the first sort but when brought to rest the motion is
transformed into the second state. The body is in a state of
rest and with reference to adjacent bodies is in equilibrium.

Vector motions have a remarkable stabilizing power, as
witness, for example, the gyroscope. The two classes of
motion have been called molar and molecular respectively but
this perhaps involves too large a hypothetical step. The crude
illustrations used may serve to show at least that the same force
may have a conservative power in one phase and a dispersive
power in another. But let one take the still simpler illustration
of a solenoid. A current of electricity passing through a
straight wire produces, it is true, an induction effect on the
neighboring metals but when the same current is forced to pass
through a spiral path the complex acquires an individuality —
it is polarized as a whole and acts as a magnet. Similar
solenoids react against it and a system could be formed from
innumerable solenoids in equilibrium which would vary with
the currents sent through the several elements, while the entire

Baldwin's Dictionary of Philosophy, art. 'Brain,' Functions, I., p. 135.

2l6 c. L. HERRICK.

system would be in equilibrium at all times. While it is not
suggested that the brain cells are solenoids or anything of so
crude a nature as that, yet it is believed that the afferent cur-
rents passing into the cortex produce in more or fewer of the
brain cells a system of intrinsic activities which react, each
with each, in the total cortical equilibrium which for each in-
stant is the dynamic aspect of a state of consciousness — an act
of mind. The whole involved activity, now more, now less, at
any given moment, is equilibrated and forms a self-centered
process of unitary nature. The structural mechanism of the
brain is an uninterrupted flux of activity of a vital character.
Vital activities are all analogous, rotational or vector, we might
say (for illustration solely), as contrasted to translational or
indeterminate or progressive activities. To be more general,
what we call structure is evidence of statically condensed energy
(energy in vector states) and this is competent to enter into re-
action with afferent impulses and convert them into vector
activities. The sum of the equilibrated activities in the body
forms its vital continuum. One phase of the equilibrated con-
tinuum is the activity of consciousness. So far as we know,
the conscious continuum is associated with the total vital com-
plex. It is not proven that any other form of equilibrated vector
forces is capable of assimilating the afferent stimuli and con-
verting them into similar terms and so converting them into a
conscious activity, though it may be said that we know of
nothing to the contrary.

To return to our problem, what then is the highest reality
in my being? To me it is doubtless the ' stream of conscious-
ness ' which constitutes myself as known to myself. But even
here common experience, as well as our most searching analysis,
shows that only a small part of this stream is resolvable into
elements of consciousness which are capable of being recog-
nized as such in present experience.

The great mass of dream experience, for example, fails to
affect a nexus with the memory complex at all, and what we
forget of each day's experience is vastly more than what we
remember. But all is not lost that has disappeared. The
wood has disappeared in the grate, but the genial warmth per-

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 217

vades the room, invades our blood, quickens our pulse, awakens
vital action, and finally is wrought into the history of our lives.
So each element of experience is wrought into the sum of our
life.

The precise nature of my conscious reaction upon today's
experience depends not on what I can formally recollect of past
experience, but on the form of equilibrated unity which is the
result of past experience in its progressive reaction upon my
nature.

If we follow the prevailing custom and accept current defi-
nitions, the soul is identical with the stream of consciousness,
i. e., is the sum of conscious activities. We shall not quarrel
with this definition. Psychology is the science of conscious-
ness. The psyche is the object of this science — it is thought
or consciousness. Very well ; gastrology is, let us say, the sci-
ence of stomachs and the object of this science is the organ or
act of digestion. The suggestion is obvious. Because we, in
our thinking, can analyze human activities into various depart-
ments and think of them separately it does not follow that the
realities back of these departments are separate or independent.

Because thinking is a very important part of human activity
and can be made the subject of special inquiry it does not fol-
low that there is a thinking agent which does nothing but think.
Do we come perilously near the idea of a brain that secretes
thought as a liver secretes bile? I think not, but our peril is
lest we should allow perjudice to steer us away from the nar-
row course marked out on the chart of truth.

The sanest thinkers have always included in the idea of a
soul a great deal more than thought or even a thinking thing.
Our strict modern scientific analysis sees the necessity for draw-
ing the boundaries between the adjacent territories of thought
very closely, but very frequently forgets that in nature there are
no such boundaries.

The soul is a metaphysical concept the moment it becomes
more than the totality of the stream of consciousness. Lotze
said : ' Sensations, feelings, and acts of will constitute the group
of familiar facts which we are accustomed to designate, though
with a reservation in view of future discoveries, as the life of

2l8 C. L. HER RICK.

the soul.1 Here was a careful and very conservative statement
from one who was as fully aware as any recent psychologist of the
intricacy of the interrelations between psychology and meta-
physics. But the definition is a metaphysical one. * A pecu-
liar being, the soul, the life of which consisted in the manifes-
tations which are the facts of psychology — such was the con-
ception. But does this peculiar being do nothing else? True,
whatever else it may do may not be subject matter for psychol-
ogy, but we are walking with seven-leagued boots and care noth-
ing for fences.

If our work so far has been valid, we cannot fail to feel that
forcible isolation of parts which belong together is not logical
bad faith alone but subversive to reality. ' Standing in relation '
is an essental thing in reality. But we cannot hope to form a
science out of materials which are isolated from all others by
their nature. If the direct and disconnected testimony of our
subjectivity is to be the basis of our psychology we must at once
give up the undertaking. In other words the content of sense
must be objectivized before a science is possible. This content,
after being construed in apperceptive relations, is our material.
The acts of thought, as such, are not available material for sci-
ence, but only what we think of them, the predicaments of our
thinking, or the affirmation of attribute applied to these elements.

This seems a curious and contradictory result. After labo-
riously reaching the apparent conclusion that the act of thinking
is the psychological verity, to deny that these acts can be used,
as such, in our science. But it is, when we rightly consider the
matter, only what we might have expected, for all science is
objective and is organized knowledge. We must be content to
view all psychological processes from the outside. The moment
we attempt to compare two processes or acts of consciousness,
they become objective. In this sense the subjective is always
epiphenomenal to science, which must rest content with her
equilibriums and her algebraic expressions therefor. If any
dynamic view be accepted and admitting the best known fact of
all, /. £., the effect of mind on body and body on mind, we
recognize that the unity of soul and body is an organic one.
This is LIFE. Lotze spoke of the life of the soul. Plain, every

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 219

day common sense recognizes life as including every phase of
activity from core to periphery in human activity and we should
beware of laches of common sense.

* Life ' shares with ' soul ' the role of mystery in science.
We saw that in the construction of equilibrium rendered neces-
sary by the unity of consciousness it was necessary to make the
psychical equilibrium part and parcel of a more general vital
equilibrium. A center of vector energy in a world of energy
cannot fail to wrap itself up in parts of the extraneous energy,
for this is of the very nature of resistance, just as a revolving
wheel attaches to itself more or less of the mud through which
it passes, causing currents therein and counter revolutions
whereby balls of revolving mud fly in all directions as parts of
a system of which the hub is the center. One moves a lever
upon a friction clutch and tooth engages wheel and band moves
upon pulley, till the whir of a thousand wheels follows. Could
we think of the friction pulley as gradually creating the ma-
chinery of the mill out of existing energy in resisting phases, as
the wheel created the mud cycles, we would have a rough im-
age of the vital organism.

But do you mean that my foot is part of my soul? Yes, I
mean that the vital activities in my foot form part of my vital
equilibrium and, in so far as these contain conscious partici-
pants in the stream of consciousness, they form part of the soul.
But if I amputate a foot do I mutilate a soul ? Certainly, though
it may be better to enter into life maimed than to retain a foot
and go elsewhere. By cutting off a finger a child's soul may
be maimed of musical faculty. There are organs, the amputa-
tion of which affects the entire character for life, and one does
not willingly dispense with the frontal lobes even if he does not
know precisely what purpose they serve.

On the other hand, it is possible to add to the sphere of the
vital activities, as when I place spectacles upon my nose or
apply my hand to the throttle of a locomotive. Where then is
the limit of self? It is not for me to draw it. I will not cut the
narrow isthmus of flesh which connects me with my twin — the
universe. The ancients believed that the eye shot out rays to
grasp the objects of the visual world. What tentacula has not

220 C. L. HER RICK.

modern science produced extending from all our organs to the
phenomenal world?

But if we may not define the outer limits of the individual
life, do we not destroy individuality? Only seemingly, for we
need not despair of locating its center because the periphery of
its sphere of activity is indeterminate. The leaven of life may
be small, but, given time and appropriate conditions, it will
leaven the whole lump.

Our analogy of the vector motions carried out would lead to
the conclusion that wherever such a center originated it would
tend to assimilate to itself all such activities as are capable of
offering resistance to it and would, by virtue of the form or
mode of its activity, cause allied activities to accumulate in har-
monious adjustment about it, enlarging, and, at the same time,
intensifying the energy in the original equilibrium.

Disturbances of this equilibrium there will be, but it will be
one of the hardest things to exterminate we can imagine, for it
is intrenched in one of the most recondite energic conditions of
the universe. Seed may be dried for years in the tombs but it
will still germinate. No persecution ever succeeded in stamp-
ing out a vital truth. It is not to be wondered that humanity
has enduring faith in a life eternal, but this is not the life of the
soul, if by the soul we mean the * stream of consciousness.' In
so far as our life, as a whole, fits into the complicated sphere
of the universal life it will be imperishable. Maimed and
crippled, it may be, we crawl over the threshold of one world
into the fresh glory of another, but if the life be really there, it
will have no difficulty in assimilating to itself a body fit for its
use, as the acorn finds its own body in the crevices of the rock
and builds it forth in strict accordance with the pattern set in
the peculiarities of its own vital equilibrium.

We need not look for pangens, biophores, gemmules, micel-
lae and the like in our study of heredity, or if we find them, we
shall regard them as visible manifestations in some temporary
form of types of equilibrated energy, vortices of specialized
activity, specific in its form. The newt will grow a new leg.
It is possible that the leg might grow a new newt if we were
able to keep the conditions favorable, just as a branch may

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 221

grow a new tree. There is nothing so violently incongruous
as might appear in the childish planting of nail parings in the
hope of raising a crop of men.

Our point is that the type. of equilibrium is impressed on the
part as the energy of the part is reflected upon the whole. Ger-
minative elements, or seeds, are special adaptations to this end
but every vital part may share to some extent in this property.1

III.

Historical Notes. — It is not worth while to attempt a resume
of the history of opinion as to the nature of the soul and it will
serve our purpose to review very briefly the more recent utter-
ances in this matter. Among these recent utterances are those
which from anthropological data undertake to voice the earliest
ideas of dualism between soul and body, ascribing this concep-
tion first to the phenomena of dreams and memory (Spencer)
and, second, to the sense of voluntary originative or initiative
power within ourselves (Schurman, etc.).

The polyanimism of primitive peoples was not so very dif-

1 On the day following the writing of this paragraph the following memo-
randum, published by Professor W. E. Ritter in the American Naturalist under
date of November, 1903, reached the writer : "At the May meeting, this year,
of the Philadelphia Academy of Science Miss Sarah P. Monks read a note on
' The Regeneration of the Body of a Starfish ' . . . I quote from this report ; ' In
studying regeneration on Phatria (Linckia] fascialis she had cut arms at differ-
ent distances from the disc, and a number of the single rays produced new
bodies. The free ray produced a new body and the rest of the starfish produced
a new ray ..." Miss Monks is to be congratulated on having at last produced
the experimental evidence demanded by the skepticism of recent writers on the
soundness of Haeckel's conclusion reached long ago that * jeder abgeloster Arm
reproducirt die ganzen Scheibe nebst den iibrige Armen,' Zeitschr. wiss. Zool.,
Bd. 30.

In a paper on ' Physiological Corollaries of the Equilibrium Theory of Ner-
vous Action and Control ' published in the Journal of Comparative Neurology,
Vol. VIII., No. i, 1898, many of the ideas expressed in this paper were hinted
at, e. g., pp. 26-27 : " From the above it may be gathered that the ground of
mutual reaction (between protoplasmic and nervous forces) may be sought in
the fundamental similarity of the two processes, or rather in the close relation
between the processes of waste and repair lying at the foundation of both. It
is necessary to suppose, accordingly, that the central nervous system is contin-
uously affected by the vital phenomena at large as truly as that the vascular
system is under the control of the nervous system." Other passages of like
tenor will indicate the bearing of the present theory for the neurologist.

222 C. L. HER RICK.

ferent, in result, from the highly philosophical concept of a soul
in all things ; in the inanimate world as a principle or ground of
phenomena, in form or attribute ; while, in the animate objects
it became the principle of life, of sensibility, and of motion.

It is perhaps correct to say that we have never risen higher
than some early expressions of this idea and have often sunk
immeasurably below it. With the early church fathers, Turtul-
lian, St. Irseneus, and St. Justin, the soul was a thinner kind of
body. Plato and St. Augustine, to" be sure, recognized the soul
as immaterial, but were led to a dualism which set up a conflict
between body and soul as unfortunate as it was immoral.

To Descartes we owe the limitation of the soul to immaterial,
invisible thought, reducing its content to thought alone and
assigning its activity solely to the intellectual world of ideas.
This distinction, once made, has taken firm hold on psychology
to this day, although the phenomena of sensibility have been
restored to the soul.

There has been a tendency of late to renew the concept that
the soul includes the functions of animal life and even the phy-
siological functions of the human body. This is animism as
opposed to vitalism and the view presented here must not be
confused with an animism which does not recognize the dis-
tinction between consciousness and all other phenomena, nor
yet with a vitalism which manufactures a vital principle distinct
from but somehow coordinated with the soul. Dynamic monism
recognizes both manifestations in a synthesis of equilibrated
energy which is capable of expressing itself in vital attractions
and repulsions as well as in apperceptive coordinations.

A conservative position taken by perhaps a majority of
recent writers of psychologies is well expressed by Compayre,
as follows : "The great number of contradictory conceptions
of the soul, considered by some as the principle of thought
alone, by others as a principle that feels, thinks and wills, and
by still others as the sole cause of life and thought, suffice to
show how very necessary it is to postpone, if not entirely to
waive, the obscure and controverted question of the nature of
the soul."

That the statement of the limitation of the sphere of psy-

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 223

chology by recent writers to the stream of consciousness is not
misleading may be gathered from such a passage as the follow-
ing from Titchener's Outline of Psychology : "The psycholo-
gist can accept this definition (of psychology as the science of
mind) ... if * mind ' is understood to mean simply the sum
total of mental processes experienced by the individual in his
lifetime." " The question : Is there anything behind the men-
tal process, any permanent mind? and, if there is, what is its
nature? — -is a question which is well worth while to answer
but it is not a question that can be raised by psychology. Psy-
chology sees in mind nothing more than the whole sum of
mental processes experienced in a single lifetime."

How artificial this distinction is cannot fail to be apparent.
It is like erecting a science of shadows in which it is forbidden
to refer any shadow to the object that cast it. Yet there is a
science of shadows and this science, if correctly builded, will
be found to correspond, part for part, variation for variation,
with the objects casting the shadows. But there is a real fallacy
here. It seems to be assumed, by Titchener, and probably by
the rest of us when trying to talk this language, that since con-
sciousness is something sui generis by reason of its subjectivity,
we must not disturb that attribute nor admit into our psychology
any other element. But this shadow refuses to be caught.
As subjective, we can't create the facts of experience into a
science. The data of science are necessarily objective. A
science of pure consciousness is forever impossible. Somebody
else's consciousness is not subjective and we cannot use our
own data of consciousness in science till they are objectivized.
More specifically, neither in the case of another or of myself,
when I begin to follow the natural course of mental synthesis,
do I revive the actual states of consciousness, nor do the ele-
ments of the synthesis I conceive of actually exist in conscious-
ness. My best efforts produce only an algebra of conscious-
ness purely objective.

The monist contends, says C. Lloyd Morgan, "that, alike
on its biological and in its physiological aspect, the organism is a
product of evolution ; that mind is not extranatural nor supra-
natural, but one of the aspects of natural existence." "What

224 C. L. HER RICK.

is practically given is the man ; and the man is one and indi-
visible, though he may be polarized in analysis into a bodily
aspect and a conscious aspect." " Body and mind are distin-
guishable but not separable."

Opposed to this view of monism are two extremes — mate-
rialism on the one hand, according to which the body is the
real substance and the mind one of its properties, and spiritual-
ism, on the other, which states with Charles Kingsley that
'your soul makes your body as a snail makes its shell.'
Dynamic monism reconciles these extremes by showing that
body and mind are expressions of one life.

Compare the above with such statements as the following :
" What mind is in itself is a question that lies outside of psy-
chology and belongs to philosophy. ... It may, however, be
said that some idea of mind as a unity, which holds together
and combines the several states of what we call psychical
phenomena, is a necessary assumption or presumption in psy-
chology." "We must always think of mind as attended by,
and in some inexplicable way, related to, the living organism,
and more particularly, the nervous system and its actions." . . .
"The perception of difference at all is something distinctly
mental, not to be explained, therefore, by any reference to
nervous changes. No sound psychology is possible which does
not keep in view this fundamental disparity of the physical and
psychical. . . ." (Sully.)

Consciousness is "the common and necessary form of all
mental states ... it is the point of division between mind and
not-mind." (Baldwin.}

" For all psychological purposes this (the relation between
mind and body) must be regarded as a relation of interaction.
. . . Now when we come to the direct connection between a
nervous process and a correlated conscious process, we find a
complete solution of continuity. The two processes have no
common factor. Their connection lies entirely outside our
total knowledge of physical nature on one hand and of con-
scious processes on the other. . . . No reason in the world can
be assigned why the change produced in the gray pulpy sub-
stance of the cortex by light of a certain wave-length should be

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 225

accompanied by the sensation red. . . . It is equally unintelli-
gible that a state (sic) of volition should be followed by a
change in the substance of the cortex and so immediately by
the contraction of a muscle." (Stout.)

Such confusion of ideas as the above ramifies the whole of
modern psychological literature and produces a feeling of hope-
lessness. When conscious processes are set over against phys-
ical processes and the two are stated to be incommensurable
and incapable of reaction in the next breath after a statement
that ' for all psychological purposes the relation of mind and
body must be regarded as one of interaction ' it seems hopeless
to expect clear analysis in any department of psychology.

This is much as though one would say " The concept of
greenness, which I at present have, is not capable of being re-
fracted by a prism and therefore is an entirely different process
from a wave of red light." Or " The degree of curvature of an
ellipse is not a commensurable process with the velocity of the
planet describing that orbit."

If dynamic monism is correct, the acting in a certain way is
a condition of thought, just as acting in another way is a con-
dition of muscular contraction. The series of acts is continuous
and what we can deduce by abstract thinking as to the peculi-
arities or properties of these several forms of activities is not to
be placed in the same genetic chain as the things we think about
them. We are (that is our life is made up of) the sum of what
we do. It is possible to think the experiences of doing apart
from the doing of them because the doing of each act, a simple
perception for example, leaves the equilibrium complex perman-
ently altered — produces back eddies beside the * wave of con-
sciousness.' These changes express themselves in * psycho-
logical or interpretative ' rather than ' psychic ' or realizable
terms and we should not attempt to interpolate from the formal
into the real series nor vice versa. See Baldwin's discussion
of genetic modes in his Development and Evolution, Chap. XIX.
The two things are not things in the same sense and it should
not surprise us that they do not fit in a causal nexus nor should
we seek such nexus. It is absurd as it would be if in a machine
we should attempt in one place to fit a shadow instead of the cog
required. Yet a shadow is a real thing.

226 C. L. HERRICK.

Professor Stout's regret that ' no reason in the world can be
given ' for redness in consciousness may be tempered by the
fact that no reason in the world can be given for any physical
ultimate or simple fact. It is curious metaphysics that expects
it. An occurrence is its own reason and there can be no other.
Science finds uniformities which it classifies but it finds no
* reason ' for its ' laws.'

Nevertheles Stout very nearly reaches the point of view re-
quired, for in criticising materialism, he says: " Whatever
plausability it (materialism) possesses arises from the use, or
rather misuse of the word function. Digestion is the function
of the alimentary canal. . . . The objection is that we do not
make the two things the same by applying the same word to
them, when in their own nature they are radically and essentially
different. When we say that digestion is a function of the
stomach we mean that digestion is the stomach engaged in diges-
tion . . . but if we describe the brain at work there is no need
to mention consciousness at all, and in naming and describing
the conscious processes there is no need to mention the brain.
The function of the brain as a physiological organ is to move
the body ; the contraction of muscles is the result of neural im-
pulses and in describing it we have to mention the nervous sys-
tem, including the cortex as engaged in it. But the processes
of consciousness cannot be analyzed or resolved into such proc-
esses as chemical and physical changes in nerve cells. If
consciousness be supposed to be produced by the nervous proc-
esses, the production is simply a creation out of nothing."

It were easy to reply that all this is pure assumption. We
do not know (as it is agreed by a certain class of unscientific
psychologists to claim) that all the energy entering the brain as
afferent currents leaves it in efferent nervous energy ; in fact,
we know that this is certainly not true. We do not find phy-
siological functions for all parts of the organs and have no right
to assert that nervous energy is not used in performing all sorts
of recondite processes which somehow serve as a basis for psy-
chical phenomena. But we need not disturb ourselves about
this matter, it is beside the point.

The fallacy begins in talking of conscious processes as con-

THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. 227

trasted to other processes and then using consciousness as an
abstraction aside from the activity and discovering that it is then
not of one class with the other activities. Our author says that
it is the function of the brain to move the body. Very well ; we
move our arms in a complicated set of * wig-wag ' signals which
the mind of the observer construes into a message of certain im-
port. Is this result of the movements of the body for this reason
physiological ? In the brain certain other movements (of energy)
are construed in apperceptive terms and resulting relations con-
stitute the objective content of psychology (we have already seen
that the pure experiences, as such, can form no part of science)
and we call this resulting system, psychological. If the body
caused the wig-wagging and its informing symbolism then, in
exactly like manner, if not so openly and rudely, the body
caused the thought. Both are manifestations of energy from
which it is possible to abstract certain modes, etc.

We claim that mind or consciousness cannot react on the
body because the two are incommensurable. (Here again the
difference between experience which is psychic, and the activi-
ties concerned are objectively considered.) The living energy
back of both is continuous through both, but the appearance
in present experience called consciousness and the data of bodily
action also converted into terms of experience in the mind form
a series of commensurables because like in kind.

The doctrine of psychophysical parallelism, so commonly
held to-day, might doubtless be expressed to conform to the
dynamic hypothesis, but, in fact, it is not usually so understood.
Stout says truly : " The reason of the connection between con-
scious processes and the correlated nervous processes is not to be
found in the nervous and conscious processes themselves. Both
must be regarded as belonging to a more comprehensive system
of conditions and it is within the system as a whole that the
reason of their connection is to be sought. . . . We must further
assume that the material system in its totality is related to the
material world in its totality as the individual consciousness is
related to nervous processes taking place in the cortex of the
brctin. . . . The explanation of psychophysical parallelism is
ultimately based on an idealistic view of material phenomena.

228 C. L. HERRICK.

... In general all that makes matter material presupposes
some consciousness which takes cognizance of it." " The world
of material phenomena presupposes a system of immaterial
agency. In this immaterial system the individual conscious-
ness originates." (Manual of Psychology.}

Hoeff ding's criticism of Lotze is quite to the point here and
we may quote the former author in support of the dynamic view :
" We have no right to take mind and body for two things or
substances in reciprocal interaction. We are, on the contrary,
impelled to conceive the material interaction between the ele-
ments composing the brain and nervous system as an outer
form of the inner ideal unity of consciousness. What we, in
our inner experience become conscious of as thought, feeling,
and resolution, is thus represented in the material world by cer-
tain material processes in the brain, which as such are subjected
to the law of the persistence of energy, although this law can-
not be applied to the relation between cerebral and conscious
processes. It is as though the same thing were said in two
languages." (Outlines of Psychology , p. 65.)

SUPPLEMENTARY NOTE.

Of the strong swing of the pendulum in the direction indi-
cated in these papers during the last few years evidence is fur-
nished by the genetic series recently issued by Professor J.
Mark Baldwin and the writings of the so-called Chicago school.
See also the recent writings of Royce and James.

Moore says : " * Life '-experience is one inclusive activity of
which consciousness and habit — the psychical and the physi-
cal— are to the analysis, constituent functions." This is inter-
estingly akin the statement we made above.

Professor Bawden, has, however, made this view more ex-
plicit than any recent writer. See his article, 'The Functional
Theory of Parallelism,' Philos. Review, Vol. XII., 3. " Mind
is not an entity behind the process of consciousness in an organ-
ism, it is that process itself. Mind is just as truly a growth as
any other living thing." (Loc. czl.9 p. 308.) This view finds
its physiological expression in the equilibrium theory of con-
sciousness. (See Baldwin's Diet. Philos. and Psych., Vol. I.,
P- I35-)

N. S. VOL. XIV. No. 5. July, 1907

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

STUDIES FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL LABORA-
TORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

COMMUNICATED BY PROFKSSOR JAMBS ROWLAND ANGELA.

THE ROLE OF THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AuoixiON.1

BY W. V. D. BINGHAM.

This paper reports a case of a person who enjoys good
hearing in spite of the destruction of the * sound-conducting '
mechanism of both ears. When she first came under our
observation, in the summer of 1906, her auditory acuity was
such that a group of acquaintances who had been her constant
associates for several weeks had not suspected any auditory
impairment; and at the present time, although the condition of
her hearing is not as good as it was then, it is still acute enough
to enable her to carry efficiently forward her work as a teacher.

The statement that efficient hearing is still possible after
both drum membranes have been destroyed and the larger
ossicles removed comes as a surprise to those whose attention
has not been previously directed to the pathology of the ear.
It means that the account which Helmholtz gave of the mechan-
ism of sound-conduction is untenable, at least as regards his
theory of the sound-intensifying function of the tympanic mem-
brane. Dissatisfaction with this theory has been rife in oto-
logical circles for some years, owing to its inadequacy when
confronted by the facts of aural pathology. Beckmann2 in

1 The MS. of this article was received April 8, 1907.

2'Zur Theorie des Horens,' Verhandl. der deutsche otoL Ges., 1898. See
Treitel, 'Recent Theories of Sound-conduction,' Archives of Otology, 1903, p.
385. Treitel gives an admirable summary of the literature up to 1902, and con-
cludes that the problem of the middle ear has not yet been solved.

229

230 W. V. D. BINGHAM.

1898 went the length of maintaining that the tympanic appa-
ratus is not a sound-conducting device, but is merely a damping
mechanism. Zimmermann1 also substitutes a damping for a
transmitting function, but holds, contrary to Beckmann, that
the damping operates only with sounds of unusual intensity.
He assumes that the sound waves are transmitted by air con-
duction across the tympanic cavity to the promontory wall, and
thence through bone to the basilar membrane fibers. It is the
function of the round window to make possible the most subtle
reaction of these fibers. The ossicles and the stapedius muscle
serve to regulate the intra-labyrinthine pressure. Secchi2 finds
in the round window the sole pathway for sound through the
tympanum to the labyrinth. The tympanic membrane and
ossicles together with the intrinsic muscles protect the inner
organs against detonations and also serve to regulate the intra-
tympanic pressure during attentive hearing. Of the defenders
of modified forms of the Helmholtz theory, Bezold and Lucae
are the most able and active. They are agreed that for high
tones conduction through the larger ossicles is of little impor-
tance. Lucae 3 insists that the round window as well as the
plate of the stapes is capable of receiving sound-waves. Both
movements could exist together, a compensatory opening for
minimal pressures produced by the inward movement of the
stapes being found in the aquaeductus vestibulas, and for the
fenestral membrane in the aquaeductus cochleae. Bezold4 does
not hold to the Helmholtz account of the sound-intensifying
action of the drum membrane, but he contends vigorously for
the theory of conduction through the ossicular chain. When
the skull is set in vibration by direct contact with a sounding
fork, the labyrinth as well as the chain is actuated, yet only
those waves are effective which, on their way to the labyrinth
have actuated the chain to transverse vibration. The function

1 In addition to the articles summarized by Treitel, cf. 'Der physiologische
Werth der Labyrinthfenster,' 1904, Arch.f. Physiol., Suppl. Bd., S. 193. Also
S. 409 and S. 488.

2 Arch.f. Ohrenheilk., LV., Heft. 3-4. Cf. Treitel, /. c.

3 Arch.f. Physiol., 1904, Suppl. Bd., S. 490.

4"Weitere Untersuchungen uber ' Knochenleitung ' und Schallleitungs-
apparat im Ohr.," Zeits.f. Ohrenheilk., XI, VIII., 107.

THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AUDITION. 231

of the tympanic mechanism is the conversion of longitudinal
sound-waves into transverse vibrations, which alone are capable
of setting into sympathetic vibration the receiving apparatus of
the cochlea. Bezold is reported as saying " that there is no
hearing for the lower half of the tone scale without a tympanic
membrane and an ossicular chain, and that in the case of the
upper part of the scale the sound-waves are transmitted to the
labyrinth by vibrations of the stapedial foot-plate."2 The
earlier part of this conclusion is controverted by the existence
of such cases of audition as the one here described.

Thirty-six years ago, when Miss Evans, as she may be
named, was five years of age, a siege of scarlet fever left her
with a middle-ear discharge (suppurative otitis media) which
ruptured both ear drums. In the right ear this chronic dis-
charge has never healed : and in the left, except for two brief
periods of temporary cessation, it continued until the fall of
1906. During girlhood the only method of treatment which
was tried, that of syringing, proved very painful and was little
used. The earliest aurist's record available was furnished by
Dr. Clarence J. Blake, otologist of the Harvard Medical School,
who treated the case in 1888-90. His records show partial de-
struction of both drum membranes at that time. " Hearing was
effected by direct transmission of the sound waves to the base
plate of the stapes. There was no evidence of cochlear involve-
ment." An accumulation of cicatricial adhesion hindered the
free vibration of the stapes, so that hearing was considerably
below normal. (Note that the decreased acuity is not explained
by reference to the condition of the tympanic membrane or the
' sound-conducting ' mechanism. Dr. Blake says: "In the
great majority of suppurative cases the decreased mobility of the
stapes either from altered position of the ossicular chain or from
tissue changes within the fenestral niche is the essential thing.")

In 1898, Dr. M. D. Jones, of St. Louis, operated upon the
right ear, removing the remnant of the tympanic membrane,
the accumulations of cicatricial adhesions and the two larger
ossicles which had become much necrosed. No operation has
been performed upon the left ear, but the incus has been lost

2Hartmann, in report of German otological society in Wiesbaden, May 29
and 30, 1903. Archives of Otology, XXXII., 286.

232 W. V. D. B ING HAM.

and the drum membrane is almost totally destroyed. In each
ear the stapes is imbedded in an accumulation of scar tissue,
and in the right, poorer, ear is completely hidden from view.
The Eustachian tubes are completely closed at times, prevent-
ing the draining of the mucous of the middle ear into the throat,
and causing an accumulation which interferes with hearing.
Miss Evans states that her hearing varies with her general nerv-
ous condition.

In August, 1906, at the time of making the first of the audi-
tory tests here reported, the ears were discharging very slightly
and were therefore probably at their best as to function. Dr.
J. B. Shapleigh, of St. Louis, who has had the case under ob-
servation for the past two years, informs me that usually " im-
provement in the local inflammatory conditions in these cases
brings better hearing, but it is not uncommon to find that when
all secretion ceases and the ear becomes dry, the hearing be-
comes less. This is undoubtedly due to the dry tissues being
more rigid and stiff than when moist since with a recurrence of
slight discharge an increase in hearing is noticed." These vari-
ations in hearing doubtless have their cause in "the varying
mobility of the stapes and the membrane of the round window,
but especially of the former. In many cases of exhausted
middle ear suppuration with large loss of the drum membrane
and with absence of the incus — the conducting chain being thus
broken — very fair hearing may exist, provided the stapes is
freely movable and not hampered by adhesions or thickened
tissue in the niche of the oval window." A considerable dimi-
nution in Miss Evans' hearing ability has taken place since she
was tested in the summer of 1906. This is due, however, to a
recurrence of the old inflammation of the membranes brought on
by a severe cold, and is not traceable to a complete cessation of
the discharge with consequent lack of the moisture which seems
to be essential for maximum flexibility of the annular ring of
the stapes and the membrane of the round window. No use is
made of * artificial drums ' or other mechanical aids to hearing.1

1 The best ' artificial drums ' so called are mere pledgets of cotton, deftly
adjusted to increase the pressure upon the stapes to precisely the right amount.
Sometimes, when the drum membrane is lacking, a bit of vaseline placed upon
the head of the stapes serves to weight it properly and considerably augment
hearing.

THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AUDITION. 233

In the laboratory Miss Evans was first tested in auditory
acuity, tonal limits, pitch discrimination, localization of sound
and analysis of clangs. It is regretted that, owing to the brief
period which elapsed between the discovery of the case and the
necessary departure of Miss Evans from the city, some of the
tests had to be rather fragmentary. Six months later it was
possible to make a few supplementary tests which were directed
in part to determining whether the subject's general sensitivity
is supernormal. Some additional data were also gathered on
the hearing of difference-tones.

In this connection it ought to be remarked that cases of audi-
tion somewhat resembling this one are not of extremely rare
occurrence in the records of otological clinics. The additional
features which give to this case an especial value for purposes
of experimental observation are to be found in the high intel-
ligence, the more than ordinary powers of concentration, and
the facility in introspection which the observer brought to her
tasks.

The Rinne test was negative : that is, a sounding fork which
had become so faint as to be no longer audible by air conduc-
tion could be heard again if placed against the mastoid process
of the temporal bone. The Weber phenomenon was prominent ;
when a vibrating fork was pressed against the top of the head,
the sound was localized in the right, poorer, ear, even when the
fork was placed much nearer to the better ear. Such results
indicate that the hearing defect is due to trouble in the mechan-
ism of the middle ear and not in the sound-receiving apparatus
of the cochlea.

In testing auditory acuity, the Seashore audiometer was used,
and also the whispered-word test. The audiometer gives a
simple noise of fairly constant quality and of an intensity varying
from o to 40 units of an arbitrary scale. The normal threshold
lies somewhat below the middle of this scale. Eight students
with apparently normal hearing were tested at the same time
with Miss Evans, and their thresholds of acuity were found to
range between 15 and 25. l At the first day's trial Miss Evans'

1 On the standard instrument of the C. H. Stoelting Co., an acute ear can hear
intensity 13. A comparison of our instrument with this standard, after the tests

234 W. V. D. B ING HAM.

threshold was determined as 26 for the left ear and 28 for the
right. Later this was reduced to 25 and 27.

Since it sometimes occurs that good hearing for conversational
speech is accompanied by poor hearing for certain simple noises,
and vice versa, the audiometer test was supplemented by the
whispered-word test. For determining comparative auditory
efficiency in this way, Andrews l has prepared ten lists of ten
numerals each, which contain the different varieties of conso-
nant and vowel speech elements in much the same proportion in
which they are found in spoken language. The use of numer-
als presents the advantage of uniform apperceptive value for all
observers and for all the words. This is so well recognized
among aurists that whispered or spoken numerals are almost
universally 'employed in diagnosis. The traditional method of
using this test is to determine the maximum distance at which the
observer can hear the numerals. Auditory acuity is expressed
by a fraction of which this distance is the numerator and the
normal distance is the denominator. For purposes of accurate
determination, Andrews criticises this method on the ground
that its validity rests on two assumptions which his experiments
have led him to question ; first, that intensity of the sounds of
speech decreases with approximate regularity as the distance
from the speaker increases ; second, that the sounds used as
test words undergo with change of distance merely a quantita-
tive and not a qualitative alteration. As an improvement upon
this * method of extreme ranges,' Andrews recommends the
* method of degree of accuracy/ in which auditory acuity is
determined by comparing an observer's percentage of accuracy
at a given distance with the normal percentage at the same dis-
tance under identical acoustical conditions.

Andrews' lists of numerals were pronounced to Miss Evans
and six control observers at the same time. They were seated
with the left ear toward the speaker, Miss Evans being given

had been made, showed that the magnet of the telephone receiver had lost some
of its strength, and that in consequence the click was not quite as loud as it
should be. This point should be borne in mind if comparisons are made be-
tween the figures given above and readings taken with other audiometers.
1 Am. Jour. Psy., 1904, XV., 36.

THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AUDITION. 235

the central position. Each was provided with paper on which
the numbers were recorded as heard. If the observers had been
tested separately it would have been possible to have them hear
the words from identically the same place in the room ; but that
plan would have sacrificed something of uniformity in enunci-
ation. Even when the usual precautions, of using the residual
breath after exhalation, etc., are taken, some differences in
intensity must still remain. In the method here used, these
inequalities were minimized. Accidental distractions, such as
outside noises, were also the same for all the observers.

At a distance of three feet Miss Evans' degree of accuracy
was 97.5 per cent. That of the others varied from 98.5 per
cent, to 100 per cent., only one observer hearing every syllable
correctly. At fifteen feet Miss Evans heard 70 per cent, cor-
rectly, while the record of the others varied from 88 per cent,
to 99.5 per cent., the average being slightly less than 95 per
cent. These figures show clearly by how much Miss Evans'
hearing is less than normal. It would be entirely incorrect to
characterize her as ' hard-of-hearing.'

The question may arise whether in Miss Evans* case the
auditory nerve may not be more sensitive than that of the aver-
age person. Tests made in several different sense realms
failed to disclose any general hypersensitivity. Both eyes are
very slightly astigmatic and far sighted. Bright illumination
is often painful. Tests with an oculist's chart showed that the
visual acuity of the left eye was normal and that of the right
eye a very little less than normal. Sensitivity to differences of
brightness was tested by means of a Masson disc rotated in an
illumination of diffused daylight. Miss Evans pointed out a
gray ring which differed from the background in brightness by
1/150 and was uncertain as to the next ring which differed from
the background by 1/214. The four other observers tested at
the same time pointed out both of these rings correctly, and one
saw a ring which was even fainter. Miss Evans' sensitivity to
differences of brightness is then certainly not supernormal.
Tests in matching Holmgren worsteds disclosed an unusually
well cultivated color discrimination. ^Esthesiometer tests on
the forearms revealed nothing unusual in her tactile discrimina-

236 W. V. D. BINGHAM.

tion of two points ; and tests with small lifted weights indicated
no peculiar muscular sensitivity. The only tests which point
to a sensitivity above the average were with the Cattell algom-
eter. The transition from the sensation of * pressure ' to that
of ' pressure-plus-pain' was unambiguous. The threshold on
the nail of each index finger was i kg. (average of six tests at
different times ; average deviationt .1 kg.). On the right thumb
nail the threshold was 1.5 kg. ; on the left, 1.2 kg. ; on the right
and left temples, each i kg. While these results do not fall
within the range of hyperaesthesia, they are belowthe average
for women.

Although Miss Evans manifests no general hypersensitivity,
it is natural to suppose that her auditory sensitivity has been
developed to a high degree during the many years of middle-
ear difficulty when it was necessary to exercise more than ordi-
nary efforts of auditory attention.

In testing for the upper tonal limit, an Edelmann-Galton
whistle was used. If Edelmann's calibrations on this particular
pipe hold good for the light bulb-pressure used, and for the pre-
vailing barometric pressures and temperatures of Chicago, a
majority of observers can hear tones of from 44,000 to 49,000
vibrations per second (the pipe-length being from 0.32 mm. to
0.16 mm. and the width of lip 0.62 mm.). These are, roughly,
the pitches^"8 and g"8. Miss Evans heard on the first day tested
22,000 vibrations (2.17 mm. with same width of lip) with the
right ear, and 24,000 vibrations (1.87 mm.) with the left. These
tones are not far fromy7 and g1. A few days later Miss Evans
could hear 32,000 vibrations (i.oi mm.) with the left ear.
While this is half an octave below normal, it is well within the
range where perfectly healthy ears of middle-aged persons often
reach their higher limit.

The lower limit for the left ear was below 32 vibrations or
within an octave of normal. With the right ear no tone could
be heard from any of the Appunn forks, the smallest of which
gives 64 vibrations. At the organ, it was possible to hear a
pipe of 64 vibrations with this ear, if the swell box was open but
not otherwise. When three pipes were sounding pedal Cof the
contra-octave, 32 vibrations, the observer could detect a sound

THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AUDITION. 237

with the better ear closed, but it is probable that what she heard
was a clang of upper partials. One of these same low pipes
sounding singly could barely be heard with the better ear at a
distance of 25 feet, while two other observers could hear it at
70 feet. In these tests it required an appreciable length of time
for Miss Evans to decide whether a pipe were sounding or not.
With pitches and intensities near her lower limit of hearing, her
discrimination time was often as long as a second and a half.

A test for the integrity of the scale between 32 and 32,000
vibrations revealed no discontinuities or tonal islands. A series
of tests to discover the fundamental tones of the tympanic cavi-
ties which the absence of an accommodatory apparatus would
make prominent was not completed.

Miss Evans has not a ' musical ear,* and had had no prac-
tice in pitch discrimination. When first tested she made errors
in gross musical intervals ; but with a little practice she devel-
oped considerable accuracy in telling which of two tones was
the higher. On the third day she was able to discriminate cor-
rectly differences of one vibration per second (1/32 tone) from
cl of 256 vibrations. In these tests heavy Koenig forks mounted
on resonators were used. It is much easier to approximate uni-
formity of intensity with these than with the unmounted forks
sometimes employed.1

In the tests on clang analysis, the chief interest centered
about the hearing of difference-tones. It will be recalled that
a tone arising from the simultaneous sounding of two tones from
independent sources does not actuate a resonator tuned to its
vibration rate ; consequently it must have its origin within the
ear. To account for these so-called subjective difference-tones,
Helmholtz advanced the theory that the asymmetrical form of
the tympanic membrane necessitates that when it is set in vibra-
tion by two different sounds it must vibrate also at a rate equal
to the difference between the rates of the two primaries, and

1 Such instances as this one, where excellent discrimination of small pitch
differences accompanies a total lack of natural musical ability and interest, call
attention to a fallacy involved in Seashore's suggestion of using rough tests of
pitch discrimination in determining whether a public-school pupil has a suffi-
ciently ' musical ear ' to make it worth while for him to be given any musical
education. (Univ. of Iowa Studies, II., 55, and Educ. Rev., XXII., 75.)

238 W. V. D. BINGHAM.

thus generate the difference-tone. A secondary hypothesis
based upon the looseness of articulation between malleus and
incus was held to be applicable when the primaries are very
loud. Later workers in this field, notably Stumpf , Ebbinghaus,
ter Kuile, Max Meyer, Hurst and Ewald, have developed
theories of audition which seek to explain the facts of differ-
ence-tones by a mode of functioning of the structures within the
inner ear, but no one of these theories has succeeded up to the
present time in commanding general assent by meeting all of
the facts.

Recently K. S. Schaefer1 has shown that a telephone dia-
phragm will generate difference-tones which set in vibration
properly attuned resonators ; and the suggestion has been made
that Schaefer's experiments point toward a rehabilitation of
the Helmholz theory that subjective difference-tones take their
origin in the tympanic membrane.

An instance of good audition in which the tympanic mem-
branes and larger ossicles are lacking presented the opportunity
for a crucial experiment. The results were unequivocal : Miss
Evans hears the so-called subjective difference-tones.2

For preliminary practice use was made of small Quincke
tubes and high-pitched organ pipes. The observer was soon
able to distinguish the first and second difference-tones. Then
she was set the task of tuning a Stern tone-variator to unison
with the lower difference-tone arising from two organ pipes
actuated from independent sources of wind supply. On the
first trial she succeeded. The second trial was a failure, the
variator being tuned not to the pitch of the difference-tone, but
to a pitch closely consonant with it. The observer was much
fatigued by the taxing strain of these experiments, and her error
is not surprising, especially when one considers the dissimilarity

1 ' Ueber die Erzeugung physikalischer Kombinationstone mittelst des
Stentortelephons,' Annalen der Physik, 1905, XVII., 572.

2 Dennett, in reporting his experiments with interruption-tones ( ' Akustisch-
physiologische Untersuchungen, ' Arch.f. Ohrenheilk., 1887, XXIV., 173), says :
" Ich habe nun Patienten ohne Trommelfell, auch solche ohne Trommelfell,
Hammer und Amboss, mit nur erholtenem Steigsbagel, auf dieses Verhalten
hin gepriift und gefunden, dass sie ebenfalls Combinationstone horen.' ' Unfor-
tunately he gives no further information regarding the hearing of his patients
or the manner in which the tests were made.

THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AUDITION. 239

of timbre between the difference-tone and the objective tone of
the variator.

On the following day the procedure was varied in two par-
ticulars. Heavy Koenig forks mounted on resonance-boxes
were used to produce the primary tones, and the observer,
who never sings, was asked to choose on a harmonium the
tones corresponding to the first and second difference-tones.
She would begin with the lowest note on the harmonium and
try each one in turn until she found the desired pitch. While
the observer was searching for the correct pitch the experi-
menter was careful to stand out of her field of view, to exclude
the possibility of an unconscious choice on the basis of some
involuntary movement on his part. At another time the ob-
server was told that among the thirty odd forks before her were
two which had the same pitch as the difference-tones, and she
was asked to find them. In all of these tests she was uniformly
successful.

The pitch-numbers of most of the forks used were in simple
ratios, so that the difference-tones were in close harmonic rela-
tion to the primaries. Lest it should be objected that the
observer, knowing in a vague way what was expected, had
sought among the available tones until she found the ones that
fused most perfectly with the primaries, two forks were selected
whose vibration rates were as 5 to 7. The lower difference-tone
would then be 2, and the higher 3. If the observer were
selecting her tones on the basis of fusion she would have chosen
the lower octaves of the primaries : but as a matter of fact she
tried these when she came to them and rejected them as
promptly as any of the others.

The successful issue of these experiments shows] that sub-
jective difference- tones may be generated without the aid of the
tympanic membrane or any mechanism of the middle ear. This
in no way reflects upon Helmholtz's mathematical proof that
asymmetrical membranes must vibrate under the influence of
two sound-waves of sufficient amplitude in such a manner that
one, two or more additional pendular vibrations are generated.
But it does prove that such an explanation is not an adequate
account of the phenomenon of subjective difference-tones.

240 W. V. D. BINGHAM.

The question at once arises whether the tympanic mechanism,
while not essential to the hearing of difference-tones, may not
augment them. It is conceivable that combination-tones may
have a physical origin within the labyrinth, as Schaefer urges,1
and also in the tympanic mechanism, as Helmholtz held. It is
possible that wherever two sonorous vibrations of sufficient
amplitude simultaneously actuate the same body, they may
generate a pendular vibration of a rate equal to the difference
between their rates. Lord Rayleigh is authority for the state-
ment that practically all bodies manifest the required asymmetry
even in the case of aerial vibrations. He says, " Whether we
are considering progressive waves advancing from a source, or
the stationary vibrations of a resonator, there is an essential
want of symmetry between the condensation and rarefaction,
and the formation in some degree of octaves and combination-
tones is a mathematical necessity." 2

It was thus desirable to establish whether, in comparison with
observers who possess tympanic membranes, Miss Evans is able
to hear difference-tones relatively as well as she hears the
primaries.

An attempt to determine this point was made when, in
February 1907, an opportunity occurred to perform some addi-
tional tests. As has been already indicated, Miss Evans' hearing
had considerably diminished since the first experiments were
made. The audiometer showed an acuity of 31 and 4O(?)
instead of 25 and 27. Whispered words were heard with diffi-
culty at three feet which had been heard at fifteen feet. The
upper tonal limit was reduced to 3.45 mm. and 4.46 mm.
(17,000 and 14,000 vibrations). The lower limit for the better
ear had risen to 48 vibrations. Bone conduction for tones of
64 and 128 vibrations was as good as before, if not better; but
the negative Rinne was greater in each case.

The procedure adopted was as follows : two mounted forks
were selected whose vibration numbers were 768 and 896, a
ratio of 6 to 7. Miss Evans correctly located the pitch of the

1 ' Eine neue Erklarung der subject! ven Combinationstone,' Arch.f. d. ges.
PhysioL, LXXVIIL, 505.

2 The Theory of Sound, second edition, 1896, Vol. II., 459.

THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AUDITION. 241

lower, louder difference-tone. By means of two auscultation
tubes leading from a common stem, Miss Evans and a control
observer well trained in auditory discrimination listened to the
sound of the same fork. The experimenter, by moving the
mouthpiece of the tube to and from the resonating box of the
fork could make the sound appear and disappear irregularly.
The observers, who were seated back to back, indicated by a
movement of the finger when they heard the sound and when
they did not. This made it possible for the experimenter to
determine, with the aid of a stop-watch, the difference in the
ringing-off time for the two observers. Lest there might be an
inequality in the carrying-power of the two auscultation tubes,
their use was alternated between the observers.

In eight trials with the lower fork, the control observer could
hear it for an average of 13.5 seconds longer than Miss Evans ;
average deviation i second. The higher fork died away more
rapidly, and here the difference in ringing-off times for the two ob-
servers averaged 7 seconds, average deviation less than i second.
Lastly the two forks were sounded together, and the length of
time that the difference-tone could be distinguished was re-
corded, together with the time between the disappearance of the
difference-tone and the disappearance of the primaries for each
observer. The experimenter had no check on the introspec-
tions of the observer as to the length of time the difference-tone
was audible, as it was impossible for him to vary its intensity
without modifying the primaries. Under such circumstances
the imagination is certain to be a dangerous factor, and the
difference-tone will sometimes continue to be reported as heard
after it has passed below the limit of audibility. The higher of
the two forks always died away before the lower, and if it were
actuated lightly again, immediately after the difference-tone was
reported as lost, the difference-tone did not always reappear,
although if this primary were made as loud as the other, the
difference-tone was once more reported as audible. Now for
Miss Evans, the difference between the ringing-off times of the
separate forks, 6.5 seconds, was only one second shorter than
the average time between the disappearance of the difference-
tone and the vanishing of the louder, lower primary. Appar-

242 W. V. D. B ING HAM.

ently the difference-tone could be heard nearly as long as both
primaries continued to be audible. This was not the case with
the control observer, who lost the difference-tone six seconds
before he ceased to hear the weaker primary. One is forced
to suspect that Miss Evans continued to hear the difference-tone
in imagination after it had passed below her limit of audibility.
She herself remarked upon her uncertainty in distinguishing
between vanishing sensation and vivid image. How difficult
this discrimination is, those who have practiced clang analysis
well know. Because this undetermined factor was present, the
quantitative results are unreliable, and one cannot assert with
confidence the conclusion which the experiments strongly sug-
gested, that Miss Evans' hearing for difference-tones is rela-
tively better than that of a normal observer with intact tympanic
membranes.1

A few tests in auditory localization in the horizontal plane
were made in August, 1906. Use was made of the relatively
pure tone of a tuning fork, the clangs of a stopped pipe and a
reed: pipe and the noise of a metallic click. The ease and accu-
racy of localization was in proportion to the complexity of the
sound rather than to its intensity. Of the errors made with
sounds not in the median plane, somewhat more than half were
on the right side. At the present time, Bard2 is championing
the theory that the middle ear contains a mechanism which
accommodates to distance and direction. The nature of the
rhythmic movements of the chain of ossicles is in part deter-
mined by the angle of incidence of the sound-wave upon the
membrane, and the perpendicular and tangential components of
this motion supply elements to the inner ear which are significant
for orientation of the origin of the sound. The tensor tympani
adapts the tension of the drum-membrane to weak or loud sounds.

1 Since the above was placed in type the writer has learned that K. S.
Schaefer has found in Berlin several cases of patients who hear without drum
membranes, and some who lack the larger ossicles ; and all are able to hear dif-
ference-tones. A full description of these interesting cases with a discussion of
their bearing upon theories of difference-tones may be expected soon from Dr.
Schaefer's pen.

2 'Des diverses modalites des mouvements de la chaine des osselets, ' Jour.
Physiol. Pathol., 1905, VII., 665.

THE TYMPANIC MECHANISM IN AUDITION. 243

The stapedius however, according to Bard, is autonomous and
not antagonistic. It draws backward the head of the stapes,
and with it the whole chain and the handle of the malleus,
making tense the anterior portion of the drum-membrane, relax-
ing the posterior portion, and adapting for the distance of the
sound. The significance for such a theory of data obtained
from an observer who lacks this accommodatory mechanism is
obvious, and it is regretted that it was not possible to carry
through an extended series of localization tests.

Summary. — A person who through disease and operation
lost the tympanic membrane and most of the ossicular chain of
both ears is not ' hard-of-hearing ' but possesses very efficient
auditory acuity. The foot-plate of the stapes in each ear is
covered by scar tissue, and it is possible that if the vibrations of
the stapes were not thus hindered, auditory acuity would be fully
normal. Sensitivity in other sense realms is not supernormal.
Absence of the tympanic membranes does not prevent genera-
tion of * subjective ' difference-tones.

As to the significance of the tympanic mechanism in au ii-
tion, such a case as this one suggests that the physical sound-
conducting functions have been quite generally over-emphasized ;
while the physiological, protective functions have been treated
with neglect. What the eye-lid does for the eye, the drum
membrane does for the ear. It protects delicate structures
against irritation and injury, and permits the inner membranes
to be kept moist and in a condition of maximum efficiency.1

1 The writer desires to express his gratitude to Professor B. B. Breese for his
kindness in granting, for the second set of tests, the privileges of the psycho-
logical laboratory of the University of Cincinnati.

ON THE METHOD OF JUST PERCEPTIBLE
DIFFERENCES.1

BY F. M. URBAN.

If a subject is required to compare two stimuli Sl and S2
many times the judgments vary without any apparent order, so
that one is unable to tell what the judgment will be in a given
experiment, but in a great number of experiments each judg-
ment tends to occur in a certain percentage of all the cases.
This is the formal character of random events and we introduce
the notion of a probability of a judgment of a certain type, as-
suming that there exists a definite probability in every experi-
ment that the experiment will result in a judgment of a certain
type. Let us denote by the letter^ the probability that S2 will
be judged greater than S}9 and by q the probability that a judg-
ment will be given which is not a ' greater ' judgment. The
latter group contains all those cases in which S2 is judged
smaller than St and those cases in which the stimuli seem to
be equal.

In applying the method of just perceptible differences one
starts from two stimuli which seem to be equal, increasing one
stimulus until a difference is perceived ; this difference is re-
corded as a determination of the just perceptible positive dif-
ference. Then starting from inequality of the stimuli one
diminishes the stimulus of greater intensity until the two stimuli
seem to be equal ; this difference is put down as a determina-
tion of the just imperceptible positive difference. Both these
results are combined into a mean, which is called the limen or
threshold of difference in the direction of increase. By a sim-
ilar series of experiments one determines the just perceptible
negative difference and the just imperceptible negative differ-

1 Delivered at the meeting of experimental psychologists at Philadelphia,
April 17 and 18, 1907. This paper is an abstract of a chapter of a monograph
on psychophysical methods, which is to appear in the monograph series of the
Psychological Laboratory of the University of Pennsylvania.

244

METHOD OF JUST PERCEPTIBLE DIFFERENCES. 245

ence, the average of which is the threshold in the direction of
decrease. A considerable number of such determinations for
each standard stimulus is required, because a single determi-
nation is not very reliable. The discrepancies between the re-
sults are eliminated by means of an algorithm which is nothing
else but an application of the method of least squares.

The method of just perceptible differences requires that the
subject compares pairs of stimuli which have one stimulus, the
standard stimulus, in common and that these pairs are ordered
according to the magnitude of the comparison stimuli so that

r, < r, < - - . <rn.

There exists for every pair a certain probability that the judg-
ment ' greater ' will be given and we call these probabilities

A. A. ---A

where pk is the probability that in the comparison of the stim-
ulus rk with the standard the judgment < greater' will be given.
The probabilities that a judgment will be given which is not a
' greater ' judgment are correspondingly

1 ~ A = ?i
1 - A = 4*

Presenting this series of stimuli to the subject the first pair on
which the judgment 'greater' is given, all the previous pairs
being judged * smaller ' or « equal,' is a result for the method of
just perceptible differences. The probability that a stimulus
will be noted as a result of the method of just perceptible dif-
ferences is, therefore, identical with the compound probability
that this stimulus is judged greater, and that on all the smaller
stimuli judgments are given which are not « greater ' judgments
Denoting these probabilities by Plt Pz, •• - Pn we find

246 F. M. URBAN.

In a considerable number of determinations each pair will be
obtained as an observation of the just perceptible difference in
a number of times which is proportional to this probability, and
the results of N series of experiments, after being brought in
proper order, will have the following form :

The stimulus rl occurred JVPl times, which gives for the final
determination r^N.

The stimulus r2 occurred JVP2 times, which gives for the final
determination rJP2N.

The stimulus ^occurred NPn times, which gives for the final
determination rnPnN.

The method of just perceptible differences requires that the
average of all the values;- ^TVbe taken as a final determina-
tion of the threshold, which is

M- jf(

The technical name of this expression is the mathematical ex-
pectation for the result of this series.

A number of interesting conclusions may be drawn from this
analysis of the method of just perceptible differences, but its
immediate psychological importance becomes clearer by the fol-
lowing considerations. Taking the average of a series of observa-
tions has the signification of determining the most probable value
of the quantity observed. This interpretation, however, can be
given to the arithmetical mean only if the distribution is sym-
metrical. It is obvious that such a supposition is not justifiable
for any particular series of comparison stimuli. The distribu-
tion of the P's depends entirely on the values of the ^'s, which
in turn depend on our choice of the comparison stimuli. It may
be that the distribution is symmetrical in a particular case, but
generally it will not be. The average of our observations,
therefore, will not have the character of the most probable
value, if we use only one series of pairs of comparison stimuli.
For the further interpretation of the method one circumstance
which is of the greatest importance, has been observed in almost
all serious investigations without its importance being recog-

METHOD OF JUST PERCEPTIBLE DIFFERENCES. 247

nized. As a rule one does not work with one series only, but
different comparison stimuli are used and the results of all these
determinations are combined. For such a combination of inde-
pendent distributions the theorem holds which Bruns calls the
conservation of the 0(r)-type, and which may be formulated in
this way : The mixture of independent distributions tends
towards the 0(r)-tyPe» If we are careful to use several dif-
ferent series of comparison stimuli the average of all the results
will have the signification of the most probable value. The
most probable value is the one for which Pk is a maximum.
One can show without difficulty that Pk is a maximum inde-
pendent of our choice of the following stimuli if p = |. We
come to the conclusion that the average of all the observations
is that amount of difference for which there exists the probability
one half that the judgment ' greater' will be given. By a series
of similar considerations one finds that the quantity which we
determine by the algorithm of the method of just perceptible
differences as the just imperceptible positive difference is that
amount of difference for which there exists the probability one
half that the judgment * greater' will not be given. The com-
bination of the just perceptible and the just imperceptible differ-
ence, i. e., the arithmetical mean, gives a more refined determina-
tion of the same quantity.

These considerations have some bearing on the practical
application of the method of just perceptible differences. The
first is that one must record all the judgments given in order to
get the most out of one's results. In this way one obtains a set
of results in the working out of which one may step over from
the method of just perceptible differences to the method of right
and wrong cases at any moment. If one records only the first
pair of the series on which the judgment greater was given, one
will obtain good results, but the little saving of clerical work is
more than compensated by the loss in the lucidity of the results.
The second important point is to vary the steps * by which one
approaches the threshold/ because otherwise one can not make
the supposition of a symmetrical distribution. The third point
is that the value of the JP's is not changed by the order in which
the pairs are presented. It is, therefore, not essential to let the

248 F. M. URBAN.

pairs follow in the order of the magnitude of the comparison
stimuli. One may give the stimuli rl9 r^ ... rn in any order
whatsoever. All the judgments are recorded and from the
records one finds the smallest stimulus on which the judgment
' greater' was given, and combining the results of several such
experiments one obtains a result which is identical with that of
the method of just perceptible differences. The method of giving
the pairs in irregular order has the advantage of eliminating the
influence of expectation on the part of the observer and there
is no difficulty in working out the results since our discussion
has shown that the order in which the stimuli are presented is
not essential for the method of just perceptible differences.

This method was frequently the object of severe criticism
and it is perhaps not void of interest to make some remarks on
how its accuracy compares with that of the method of right and
wrong cases. The empirical data of both methods are the same,
namely empirical determinations of probabilities. The accuracy
of such determinations depends on the so-called coefficient of
precision in Bernoulli's theorem. This quantity depends on the
probability which is to be determined in this sense, that it is
smallest for the value one half and it increases when the prob-
ability which is to be determined approaches zero or the unit.
In the formulae given above the P's are products of them's, and
Pk is always smaller than fk except for k = i where Pl =f^
The precision in the determination of the P's is, therefore,
greater than in that of them's. The method of just perceptible
differences makes use of the P's and, with the same number of
experiments, its accuracy will be greater than that of the method
of right and wrong cases which starts from the p's.

We will illustrate these theoretical considerations by some
results of a series of experiments on lifted weights. The
standard stimulus of 100 gr. was compared with weights of 84,
88, 92, 96, 100, 104, and 108 gr. The standard was always
the first to be lifted and the judgments were given on the second
stimulus. In the experiments a terminology was used similar
to that suggested by Martin and Miiller, but for the present
purpose the results are classed as* heavier ' judgments and
judgments which were not « heavier' judgments. Table I.

METHOD OF JUST PERCEPTIBLE DIFFERENCES. 249

TABLE I.
PROBABILITIES OF A ' HEAVIER ' JUDGMENT.

rk

h

not-h

»H

h

not-h

84

88

92
96

0.0222
0.0244
O.IIII
0.2933

0.9778
0.9756
0.8889
0.7067

100
104

108

0.5289
0.8156
0.9044

0.47II
0.1844
0.0956

TABLE II.

VALUES OF Pk FOR THE DETERMINATION OF THE JUST PERCEPTIBLE
POSITIVE DIFFERENCE.

84

O.O222

88

0.0238

92

o.i 060

96

0.2487

100

0.3169

104

0.2302

108

0.0471

2

0.9949

RI

O.OO5O

shows the observed relative frequencies of ' heavier ' judgments
in the column marked * h ' and in the column * not-/z ' the differ-
ences of these numbers from the unit for one of seven subjects.
These numbers of relative frequency are empirical determina-
tions of the underlying probabilities of a ' heavier ' judgment and
one may compute oft this basis the value of P for every com-
parison weight. The results of this computation are given in
Table II. This table shows that the P's increase at first and
then approach zero very rapidly after having attained a certain
maximum. Multiplying these numbers with the intensity of the
corresponding comparison stimuli and adding these products
gives what we have to call the just perceptible difference, if the
distribution is symmetrical. This result is given in Table III.
We must get the same result within the limits of accuracy of an
empirical determination, if we count how many times it occurred
that each weight was the lightest weight of the entire series to
be judged * heavier/ This means that the judgment * smaller '
or < equal ' is given on all the preceding weights and that this

250

F. M. URBAN.

VALUES OF

TABLE III.

FOR THE DETERMINATION OF THE JUST PERCEPTIBLE
POSITIVE DIFFERENCE.

84

1.8648

88

2.0944

92

9.7520

96

23.8752

100

31.6910

104

23.9408

108

5.0868

I,

98.3050

weight is judged * heavier.* The results of this observation are
given in Table IV., where under the heading rk the intensities
of the comparison stimuli are given and under the heading JVk
the number of times each stimulus was the smallest on which
the judgment * heavier ' was given. These results are given for
four different series each one comprising 100 experiments with
each pair of comparison stimuli. It will be noticed that in some
of the columns the sum of all these numbers is somewhat
smaller than 100. This is due to the fact that those series in
which no 'heavier' judgment is given do not yield a result by
the method of just perceptible differences, which is also expressed
by the fact that the Pk do not add up exactly to one as shown
in Table II. The combined result of all the four series together
is given in Table V. The difference between the computed
value and the observed values is very small.

TABLE IV.

RESULTS OF OBSERVATIONS ON THE JUST PERCEPTIBLE POSITIVE DIFFER-
ENCE IN FOUR SERIES (IVA., I., III. AND IV.) OF 100 EXPERIMENTS EACH.

IVA.

I.

in.

IV.

rk

"*

1^1

**

'&

»*

'***

xk

'***

84

4

336

2

168

i

84

I

84

88

3

264

4

352

3

264

92

8

736

18

1,656

7

644

12

1,104

96

IOO

25
30

2,400
3,000

26
23

2,496
2,300

11

2,592

2,800

23

37

2,208
3,7oo

104

24

2,496

19

1,976

3i

3,224

21

2,184

108

8

864

6

648

2

216

2

216

2

99

9,832

97

9,5o8

IOO

9,912

99

9,760

Average

9947

98.02

99.12

98.59

METHOD OF JUST PERCEPTIBLE DIFFERENCES. 251

TABLE V.
RESULT OF THE COMBINED SERIES.

r*

Nk

84

8

672

88

10

880

92

45

4,140

96

101

9,696

IOO

118

11,800

104
108

?58

9,88o
'i,944

2

395

39,012

Observed result

98.714

Computed result
Difference

98-305
0.409

In a similar way one may find the just perceptible negative
difference from the same series of experiments. For this pur-
pose one first has to find the numbers of relative frequency for the
' lighter ' judgments and the relative frequencies of judgments
which are not * lighter ' judgments. From these numbers which
are given in Table VI. one may find the probabilities .Pthat a

TABLE VI.

PROBABILITIES OF ' LIGHTER ' JUDGMENTS.

r

/

not-l

rk

l

not-l

84

88
92
96

0.8622
0.7000
0.4489

0.0667
0.1378
0.3000
0.55H

IOO

104
108

0.2311
0.0956
0.0156

0.7689
0.9044
0.9844

certain comparison weight will be obtained as a determination
of the just perceptible negative difference (see Table VII.). By

TABLE VII.

VALUES OF Pk FOR THE DETERMINATION OF THE JUST PERCEPTIBLE
NEGATIVE DIFFERENCE.

108

0.0156

104

0.0941

IOO

0.2058

96

0.3073

0.2641

88

0.0976

84

0.0145

2

0.9990

R

O.OOIO

252

F. M. URBAN.

multiplying these probabilities with the intensity of the corre-
sponding comparison stimuli one finds the number with which
each stimulus is most likely to come down for the determination
of the just perceptible negative difference, and by adding these
numbers one finds this difference itself. Table VIII. gives
the course of this computation and Table IX. shows how the

TABLE VIII.

OF rjtP* FOR THE DETERMINATION OF THE JUST PERCEPTIBLE

NEGATIVE DIFFERENCE.

92

96

100

104
io8

1.3104
8.5888
24.2972
29.5008
20.5764
9.7864
1.2180

2

95.2780

computed result agrees with the observations on the same sub-
jects. This table shows how many times it happened that each
stimulus was the greatest to be judged * lighter,' z*. e., how many
times this stimulus was judged * lighter ' when all the stimuli of
greater intensity were judged * heavier' or * equal.' The coin-
cidence of the observed results with the computed results is very
close as it is seen especially in Table X. The same experi-
ments were made on six other subjects and the general outcome
was invariably the same : the coincidence of the observed results

TABLE IX.

RESULTS OF OBSERVATIONS ON THE JUST PERCEPTIBLE NEGATIVE DIFFER-
ENCE IN FOUR SERIES (IV A., I., III. AND IV.) OF 100 EXPERIMENTS EACH.

IVA.

I.

in.

IV.

rk

A*

'***

"k

r&

"*

'*»k

fk

Ifc^l

84

2

168

I

84

2

1 68

4

336

88

6

528

12

1,056

13

1,144

17

1,496

92

30

2,760

23

2,116

28

2,576

33

3,036

96

29

2,784

29

2,784

24

2,304

30

2,880

100

21

2,100

19

1,900

28

2,800

14

1,400

104

10

1,040

13

1,352

I

104

2

208

108

2

216

3

324

4

432

I,

100

9,596

100

9,616

100

9,528

IOO

9,356

Average

95.96

96.16

95-28

93.56

METHOD OF JUST PERCEPTIBLE DIFFERENCES. 253

with the theoretical results is very close in all the cases ; in some
cases it is less, but in other cases it is considerably greater than
in our example.

TABLE X.
RESULT OF THE COMBINED SERIES.

»Tl

A*

r*Nk

84

88
92
96

100

104
108

48
114

112
82
26

9

756
4,224
10,488
10,752
8,200

2,704
972

400

38,096

Observed result
Computed result
Difference

95.240
95.278

0.038

We come to the conclusion that the experimental procedure
which was described by Fechner and Wundt as the method of
just perceptible differences, by Miiller and Titchener as the
method of limits, is peculiarly well adapted for its purpose. It
may be handled in such a way as to yield experimental data
which can be worked out as well by the algorithm of the method
of right and wrong cases as by that of the method of just per-
ceptible difference despite the fact that the pairs of comparison
stimuli are not presented in the order of their intensity which
seemed to be an indispensable feature of this method. The
theoretical basis of the method of just perceptible differences is
the same as that of the error method, namely empirical deter-
minations of the probabilities of judgments of different types on
given differences of intensity. The result of the so-called
method of just perceptible differences is that amount of differ-
ence for which there exists the probability one half that it will
be recognized.1

1 The MS. of this article was received May 27, 1907. — ED.

THE ULTIMATE VALUE OF EXPERIENCE.1

BY PROFESSOR STEPHEN S. COLVIN,
University of Illinois.

In a brief article appearing in this REVIEW last November,
I pointed out what seemed to me to be certain essential charac-
teristics of experience, emphasizing particularly the thought
that experience is the ultimate essence of the universe, and as
such is subject, and never object. Hence it follows that this
most fundamental of all activities cannot be known, since we
can know only objects. The experience of the moment is pure
being, immediate and underived, while objects experienced are
always conditioned being, mediate and derived ; yet only through
these, can experience as such be described or comprehended.

This experience, however, as subject,while thus distinguish-
able from the objects of experience is not something separable
from them. Without them it could not exist as experience. It
is not something left over and above them, but becomes an ac-
tuality only through its objects. Just as light is invisible where
there are no objects for it to illuminate, so experience vanishes
when the objects of experience are no more. Yet, although
experience becomes actual only in its objects, it is not merely a
logical shadow of these objects themselves. It actually ts9
although itself it is incapable of being experienced. To give it
a mere formal existence to satisfy the demands of thought
would be absurd. It is more actual than any or all of its ob-
jects. It belongs to another order of being, unknowable be-
cause unmediated, final, undefined.

Nothing, then, can be said of this experience except to deny
to it certain qualities which its objects possess. Its objects flow
and develop ; they are limited by temporal and causal categories.
With them nothing is final ; all is relative and incomplete.

1 This paper was read before the Western Philosophical Association ,
Chicago, March 30, 1907.

254

THE ULTIMATE VALUE OF EXPERIENCE. 255

They have no values in themselves, but possess worth only in
terms of their origin and goal. Their significance is acquired
in the process of their development into and integration with
other objects of experience. Experience as ultimate being,
however, cannot be limited, or dependent on anything else for
its value. If it possesses worth and significance, this cannot be
because it leads anywhere, nor because it serves any ulterior
purpose. If it has value that value must be ultimate and com-
plete.

Little satisfaction, however, can come from such negative
determinations as these, and we might well let the whole matter
drop here, were it not for the fact that among the objects of
experience there exists a group which, although clearly derived
and secondary in their nature, still in a way function for this
unknowable, absolute experience, and come to take its place.
This group of experienced objects which I refer to, forms the core
of our objective existence. They reside largely in those sen-
sations that are at the basis of instinctive expressions, that lend
color and warmth to more external objects — they combine into
emotions, and give the notion of the self as a feeling and active
being ; they are subconscious ; they suggest a beyond ; they
point, as they vanish from a world of conscious objectivity to a
realm of completed being which contains all and conditions
reality.

These subconscious experiences, then, functioning for an
absolute into which they seem to recede and from which they
appear to be derived, may be studied by the psychologist, an-
alyzed and defined, and this analysis may be taken in a certain
way as representing the pure, subjective experience of which
they are symbols. These concrete experiences, however, should
never be identified with the subject of experience, as is often
the case. They are subjective only in a relative sense. Even
the self-experience itself is an object among other objects and
cannot be considered as anything more than a phase or aspect
of experience, certainly not the experience as such.

This relatively immediate aspect of this group of objects of
experience is, I take it, the psychological entity to which Pro-
fessor James has given the name of * pure experience ' ; it is the

256 STEPHEN S. COLVIN.

part which may be called simple sensation, mere feeling, unde-
fined longing, objectless impulse. It is as such an abstraction,
because it never exists in its purity, or if it does so exist it is
essentially unknowable. This pure experience is that part of
the total experience which is least objectified, that tends the
least to develop ; that, however, as far as it does develop, gives
up its original character, and passes into something quite dif-
ferent. In so far as it remains undeveloped, however, it resists
analysis and hence comes to be regarded as quite apart from the
clear-cut objects of experience in the center of consciousness.
Thus, vaguely defined and relatively unknowable, it has been
the fruitful source of mysticism and absolutism in philosophy.
Here is found, for example, Fitche's Absolute Ego, which re-
fuses to reveal itself completely in the personal me, and of
which no assertion can be made.

Such, then, is this phase of objective experience which may
be studied by the philosopher and psychologist as representative
and symbolic of the unconditioned subject of experience, or ex-
perience as such. One of its most striking and interesting
characteristics is that it in a certain sense possesses an ultimate
value. This core of our objective world does not readily pass
over into the more fleeting objects to which it gives value and
degrees of worth ; it tends to remain in itself and to be satisfied
with itself. Its worth, like that of the absolute experience, is
in the moment, non-temporal and in a sense eternal. Its value
is simply because it t's, not because it grows into something else.
It is not good or bad because it is pleasurable or painful. As
experience, it is good ; it can be bad only in the sense that it is
not as rich an experience as might be possible. The good of
the universe from this standpoint is not summed up in the
thought more pleasurable experience, but rather more experi-
ence. Common sense recognizes this fact in often cherishing
those experiences that have been full of pain and trouble because
they have given glimpses of realities unknown to more mild and
pleasurable states of mind. " To have loved and lost is better
than never to have loved at all," for the experience itself with
all its bitterness has an ultimate value because it is an ex-
perience.

THE ULTIMATE VALUE OF EXPERIENCE. 257

In these days, however, we seem to be in danger of losing
sight of this fact, not in our practice probably, but very possibly
in our theorizing. We see this tendency to forget that imme-
diate experience has a value in and for itself exemplified in the
modern theory of utilitarian and prudential ethics, and in its
companion theory, in intellectual philosophy, twentieth century
pragmatism.

This is perhaps somewhat striking when we remember that
utilitarianism is the legitimate offspring of hedonism, which in
making pleasure the norm of action, affirmed the ultimate value
of experience. For pleasure is pleasure of the moment. It is
the eat-drink-and-be-merry-for-tomorrow-we-die variety. Only
when it began to rationalize pleasures, put some above others
as more worthy or satisfying, did hedonism and modern utili-
tarianism depart from its original position and seek values not
given in the experience as such.

The same seems to be true of pragmatism to an ex-
tent. It also starts with immediate reality in the pure experi-
ence of James, and seems clearly to reaffirm this principle
of immanence in the doctrine that truth is satisfaction. My pur-
pose here is not, however, to dwell on this phase of the incon-
sistency, but rather to point out that in the rational development
of these two philosophies they seem at times to have very thor-
oughly forgotten the immanent basis from which they alike
originated. To emphasize this latter point we may consider
more definitely modern utilitarianism in some of its teachings.

The essence of this doctrine may be summed up, I believe,
in the statement of * voluntary general altruism ' (so called), that
the end of virtuous striving is to secure the greatest good for
the greatest possible number on the whole and in the long run.
This demands that any act, if it be truly ethical, shall consider
all the consequences that may flow from it, and thus justify or
condemn itself. On the surface there seems to be no possible
objection to such an ethical philosophy, except perhaps the
difficulty of securing any satisfactory criterion on which to base
an evaluation of conduct. This, however, is no real objection
to the theoretical bearings of the system. If we look more
closely, however, I believe we can detect an inherent weakness

258 STEPHEN S. COLVIN.

in the doctrine, which relates itself to the general topic under
discussion in this paper, and which shows this school of ethical
theorizers to have been better logicians than they were psycholo-
gists. I can perhaps make my point clearer by a concrete
example.

Let us suppose that a person has fallen into the water and
is in danger of drowning. Someone standing on the bank may
have an impulse to jump in and attempt at the risk of his own
life to rescue the other. Now if the man on the bank chances
to be an utilitarian philosopher he must consider the conse-
quences of his deed in terms of the general good. Perhaps the
man that is drowning is of little value to the world, while the
person who feels moved to risk his own life in order to save the
unfortunate in the water may occupy an important place in the
affairs of men. Then he should refrain from the attempt, since
the greatest good demands his own safety be considered as of
primary importance. This seems a simple case of logic, but I
am persuaded that it is too simple. In the analysis something has
escaped that is more valuable than that which has remained, an
act of heroism and a heroic impulse have perished. Clearly this
has worth — a worth arising not merely from the consequences
that flow from heroic deeds, but a worth in itself. It is good to
be heroic. As an ultimate experience heroism has value ; con-
sidered in a mere timeless relationship it is good.

So the utilitarian philosopher must revise his reasoning in
this particular emergency. He must include in his calculations
of ultimate benefits this impulse of heroism and find its place
in his scale of values. He must see to it that it finds its due
place. Now this readjustment may seem to satisfy the demands
of the situation. Logically the system may be thus justified ;
but psychologically such an attempt would prove an absurdity.

For let us assume that the utilitarian philosopher attempts in
the evaluation of his act to consider the worth of the impulse
that prompts it ; let us suppose that he brings into his focal con-
sciousness his instinctive heroism. In that moment the impulse
vanishes, the instinct dies. No one can be heroic if he analyzes
his heroism. As has already been pointed out it is impossible
to bring these subconscious tendencies and feelings into atten-
tion and have them remain in their true value.

THE ULTIMATE VALUE OF EXPERIENCE. 259

Thus it happens that utilitarianism can never evaluate this
element. It falls into an obvious dilemma. If the impulse is
to exist, it cannot form a part of the ethical scheme, which thus
becomes inadequate ; if rational analysis attempts to place it in
the scale of values it disappears from experience. Its value as
an ultimate reality precludes the possibility of its entering into
the mediate world of rationalized and clearly objectified expe-
rience.

Of course it would be quite possible in retrospect to evaluate
this impulse. This, however, would not give it a place in the
realm of ethical values in the moment of their existence, and
would not help, therefore, in the actual situations of life.
Further this evaluation, in retrospect or in prospect, of impulses
tends to destroy these impulses as such. If we lay bare our
affective life it becomes deadened and mechanical. The real
enthusiasm, the spontaneity of expression, fail us ; sympathy
becomes mere prudence ; courage, rational foresight ; just
indignation, calculating expediency, and so on. This is one
of the greatest faults of the practical ethics of our present age ;
over-analysis has often eliminated the * Schone Seele ' and even
the 4 Categorical Imperative.'

If we turn from a consideration of utilitarian ethics to utili-

i

tarian epistemology we find a parallel difficulty. It is here in
the noetic realm exactly on a level with hedonism in the conative
realm ; for hedonism says pleasure is the norm of goodness^
pragmatism says that satisfaction is the measure of truth. So
any pleasure that is genuine is good ; any satisfaction that is
real is truth. Here is pure immanence, a genuine absolute,
self-contained and unconditioned. Yet soon we find these two
philosophies seeking to go outside this immanence to distinguish
between pleasures and satisfaction in order to rationalize their
view-points and organize their thinking. Naturally such a pro-
cedure is necessary if a system is to be built up. My sole criti-
cism here would be that their immanent starting point would
never in itself have developed into such a system without the
injection of something quite foreign to it in its original form.
Hedonism and pragmatism can be attitudes of feeling and
action, but never in their original forms ethics or epistemology.

260 STEPHEN S. COLVIN.

Although in the discussions on pragmatism which have
appeared during the last few years truth has been often spoken
of as a feeling of satisfaction, the pragmatist has not actually
held to this description of the experience without soon going
beyond it. Ethical utilitarianism was long ago forced to depart
from its immanent starting point to evaluate goodness ; so, too,
pragmatism has continually sought justification by measuring
satisfaction in something outside of the immediate satisfaction.
It has recognized that it could not consider satisfaction as such
the badge of truth, but only that satisfaction which is based on
wide experience and clear intelligence. Otherwise the satis-
faction of the unthinking dogmatist would stand for a greater
truth, generally speaking, than the more mild and less perma-
nent contentment of the critical seeker after reality. Clearly
this further evaluation is quite desirable and necessary. It is
not, however, in accord with that aspect of pragmatic philosophy
that has its basis in pure experience.

In its growth pragmatism like utilitarianism has gone very
far from a subjective basis ; it has become indeed the complete
opposite of absolutism, whether subjective or objective. It is a
philosophy of development, it has no finality, no abiding, no
permanence. Its only universal truth is that there is no uni-
versality to truth. What is good in the scheme of utilitarian
ethics to-day may be bad tomorrow ; what is true in the fabric
of utilitarian epistemology to-day may be false tomorrow.

The parallelism between the two doctrines may be carried
still farther. It has already been pointed out how the ethical
utilitarian in attempting to evaluate conduct and to arrive at the
greatest good, leaves out of necessity the very impulses from
which good actions spring, which impulses are of themselves of
final worth, not because they lead anywhere but because as
immanent experience they have an ultimate value. So, too,
intellectual utilitarianism in carrying out its principle that truth
depends on relationships is compelled to ignore that factor
which gives truth its final value, namely that sense of convic-
tion that comes with every conclusion. This impulse to assert
that the truth we arrive at is not a merely relative affair, and to
believe that in some way it has a transcendent value is charac-

THE ULTIMATE VALUE OF EXPERIENCE. 261

teristic of all thinking that ends in a proposition. There is a
feeling that in some way an abiding fact has been reached.

Of course in the next moment, the thinker may find his
assertions unsatisfactory and incomplete, and thought may
develop toward a new resting place. However, in the moment
that we have an experience of truth, we possess a feeling of con-
viction. This conviction is quite at variance with the attitude
that holds%to relativity and incompleteness. This intellectual
emotion does not thrive well under pragmatic logic. Enthu-
siasm for truth does not tend to abound and spread over the
earth, when it is made known that truth as such is not to be
gained. The utilitarian who confidently asserts that a situation
is true because it works (o*- i -ause you can work it), is not apt
to realize that the very reason why the situation works is because
there goes with it a feeling of conviction. Action does not
develop in uncertainty. To hesitate is here as elsewhere to be
lost. The feeling of certainty is necessary but is not easily in-
cluded in the pragmatic scheme ; here it tends to lose its instruc-
tive force and immanent value ; for like the tendency toward
right action, this impulse toward true action vanishes as soon as
it is forced into the world of partial and conditioned values.
The instinct of certainty will not work if it is valued only as a
thing to be worked ; but, since it is at the basis of all workable
propositions, nothing will work without it being present; yet no
pragmatist may say, — " Go to, I need this certainty, in order
to have my situation work out truly, therefore I will possess
myself of this feeling in order that I may work it to my practical
advantage." And even if the pragmatist could accomplish this
impossibility ; even if by such a means he could make his situa-
tions work as best satisfy his demands, he would have failed to
have gained that ultimate experience of truth, which knows no
relativity in the moment of the experience and which in the scale
of human values has a final and abiding worth.

Such a humanizing experience can never come to the phi-
losopher nor scientist who believes that the truth he now pos-
sesses, at this moment, is merely a relative affair, and true only
in the sense that it fits temporarily into a scheme of workable
relations. As in ethics speculation on a moral impulse helps to

262 STEPHEN S. COLVIN.

destroy it, so in logic reflection on the instinct of certainty tends
to remove all certainty, and thus to hinder intellectual progress.
The result is the same in either case, a moral or an intellectual
sophistry.

To sum up the foregoing:

Ultimate experience as such cannot be known, since only
objects can be known ; yet such ultimate experience is an
actuality. Of it as such nothing can be said, except to deny to
it the characteristics of the objects of experience. There^ is,
however, in every experience a group of objects that function in
a sense for the ultimate experience (the subject of the objects
experienced), and which may be taken as symbolic of the pure
experience that does not reveal itself. One of the most im-
portant characteristics of this relatively subjective and immediate
aspect of experience is that it seems to have an ultimate value
and finality in itself. In modern times two philosophic creeds
have arisen out of this immanent experience, the one utili-
tarianism and the other pragmatism. Both have in a sense
assumed the validity of this immanent experience, the one in
the doctrine of pleasure as the ultimate end of striving, the other
in the assertion that satisfaction is the badge of truth ; yet in the
development of their philosophic beliefs both have departed at
once from the immanent point of view, thus ignoring their origin.
Further, these two systems in their evaluation of goodness and
truth have not taken account of the goodness that is good in and
for itself, and the truth that is self-contained and unconditioned.
They have in other words, disregarded the ultimate worth of that
part of our experience that is relatively subjective and which ordi-
narily does not enter into the flux of a constantly changing
world.

The true point of view seems to be that there are elements
in our experience that have what may be termed a final value
in the moment of that experience, that point back to no condi-
tioning reality, nor forward to a growing system of facts.
Here are found impulses and feelings that lie at the basis of
our moral and intellectual judgments and give all experience its
significance, not only because of that which is to follow, but
also because of that which actually is. These impulses and

THE ULTIMATE VALUE OF EXPERIENCE. 263

feelings are necessary for our right living and true thinking.
They give a final worth to action and an abiding value to truth.
An utilitarian philosophy should evaluate them, and find a place
for them in its world of contrasts and relations. This, how-
ever, it is singularly incapable of doing, since when it attempts
such an evaluation the very being of these impulses vanishes.
Thus there must always be an inadequacy in this philosophy.
It can never give more than a partial view of the world because
it ignores one of its most essential constituents. On the other
hand, an intuitive ethics and an absolute logic, while not free
from errors, both consider the immanent aspect of experience in
which these impulses are found. Here a moral impulse and an
intellectual thrill are given their worth. Rightly or wrongly,
too, they are held to function for a pure experience, outside of
the objective flow of consciousness, that contains absolute worth
and abiding truth. Here is the psychological basis for a
philosophy of permanent values and transcendent significance.

ON TRUTH.1

BY PROFESSOR J. MARK BALDWIN,
Johns Hopkins University,

I. THE MEANING OF CORRECTNESS.

Our discussion of truth may be considerably abbreviated in
view of the preceding genetic discussions ;2 for the lines of pro-
gression converge very plainly to a consistent point of view. It
has become evident that the progress of mind is marked by the
differentiation of control spheres into which the classified and
dependable and typical modes of experience fall. All this has
been traced in terms of the development of * dualisms.' We
find certain great psychic dualisms developing and undergoing
constant transformation and restatement with the development
of the mental life as a whole.

Further, it is simply a necessity of this development of
dualism, as between the inner and outer control factors, that
there should arise modes of what we have called ' conversion.'3
This is necessary since the progress of consciousness is toward
setting up its constructions as under mediate control, that is as
relatively remote from the original experiences with their direct
coefficients. The entire development of inner control is, as we
have seen, toward the more and more independent construction
of a content of presentation and thought, which has its reference
however back through some process of mediation to the sphere
in which it is to find its direct confirmation again. Images are
• read as memories, and not fancies, according as they are converti-
ble into experiences of the perceptual type. Private experiences
make good only as they are convertible in turn into the corre-
sponding experiences of other persons besides. Thoughts are

1 Being part of Chap. XIII. of Thought and Things or Genetic Logic, vol.
I., 'Experimental Logic', somewhat modified to make reference to criticisms

of vol. I., by Dewey and Moore (see the ' Comment ' below in this issue, p. 297).

2 See Chap. XI. of vol. I. of Thought and Things.
*Ibid., Vol. I., Chap. IV., \\ 3, 4.

264

ON TRUTH. 265

true and valid when they find confirmation in some more direct
mode of experience that they are true to.

We have, therefore, the rise of two modes of meaning —
one that of mediation, and the other that of lack or failure of
mediation. The fact of mediation is just that of relative refer-
ence to the further and more direct control which the given con-
struction mediates. The lack or failure of mediation, while
not a negative thing in itself, yet arises from the same motive as
that whose positive requirement is mediation.

Now we have found it necessary to recognize at least two
great cases of outright mediation — cases in which the evident
value and role of a construction is to present an original con-
trol and conserve its force, at the same time that it is made rel-
atively remote and mediate. These typical cases are those to
which we have already given the character of ' mediate control' ;
namely, memory, taken in the broad sense of reproductive im-
agery, and thought. Memory is a context that mediates per-
ceptual control by possible conversion into it ; this we have
shown in the three great cases of the physical, the social or
personal, and the merely temporal (the memory of events).1
Thought, too, is a context set up in a way that mediates the
control of the spheres from which its materials come, whatever
that may be.

Here we may add, that to deny this character to these two
modes of construction — whatever else we may deny of them --
is to destroy them, as the modes of psychic meaning that they
are. To make a memory inconvertible into direct experience is
to make it no longer a memory, but a fugitive or fanciful image,
an illusion, a dream ; for such states are differentiated from
memories just in that they lack this mediation of the coefficients
of perceptual or other simpler control. The character of mem-
ory, then, that makes it what it is in the actual progression of
cognition, is its correctness , its accuracy, its way of * matching
up ' with the experiences whose control the memory mediates.

So it is with thoughts. Their first and essential character,
as a system of meanings set up in a mind, is this : they have a
content that is not capricious, fugitive, disconnected, but one

* Ibid., Vol. I., Chap. IV.

266 /. MARK BALDWIN.

that mediates the sphere of control from which the contents were
drawn. Thoughts are correct or incorrect, according as they
are referable or not to something or other in a world in which
there is a matching with the simpler contents whose control is
thus mediated. The correctness or incorrectness of memories
we call their ' accuracy ' or inaccuracy ; that of thoughts we
call their * truth ' or falsity.

I use the word « match ' deliberately, only to discard it later
on for the case of truth, since it is actually applicable to mem-
ory, and has suggestions that are valuable throughout. In
memory there is an actual image, a sort of visual or other pic-
ture, constructed on the lines of the original perceptual content,
and we can often bring it up in mind so definitely that the real
thing can be compared with it, and the details actually matched
one upon the other. I know when my memory leaves out a
note, when my visual image leaves out a feature, so soon as I
have the actual tune or shape reproduced for me, so that I can
directly match the two.

In memory, the need of correctness is evident enough.
Action in the larger sense, on the part of the knower, depends
upon the accuracy of the image that stands for the actual thing.
The individual acts upon the thing ; then he acts similarly on
the memory of the thing ; this he can do because the memory
has this prime character of mediating the thing.

Admitting the analogy between the cases of memory and
thought, we may then suggest for memory a pair of questions
that are much discussed with reference to thought. Are the
memories, we may ask, correct because we can act on them in-
stead of on the things, or is the proper account the reverse — that
we can act on memories instead of the things because they are
correct f In reply, I should say that the latter is the proper way
to put the case ; since, while we cannot act successfully on
what is not correct, we can establish correctness without impli-
cating the motive to the specific sort of action. That is to say,
granted that action is implicated, and that it is necessarily carried
out in actually securing the matching that confirms the correct-
ness, still it is not genetically the motive to the acceptance of
the memory item as correct. The same is true of truth, in my

ON TRUTH. 267

opinion, and so it may be well to examine the case of memory
more fully here.

Suppose we take a case recently used by others l in advo-
cating the opposite view. One is lost in the woods, and has a
* thought ' — in this case it would be largely a memory — of the
way to get out. Of all the possible plans of direction, turnings,
etc., he acts on the one that seems 'right.' He comes out at
his home. Now what has constituted the correctness, or truth,
of his plan ? — why is the thought of the situation on which he
has acted to be labelled * correct ' ?

The ' action theory ' — so to call it briefly — says the plan is
true or correct because it has led to successful action : but for
his success in getting out, his plan would have been false.
The essence of the correctness or truth of the thought or mem-
ory is to be found, then, in its being a plan of successful action.

But certain difficulties with this are so evident that they ' fly
up and strike one in the face.' Suppose we ask, how the case
would have differed if the man had not got home ; would he
not still have used the thought as a plan of action? Yes, it is
said, but not successfully. Then the critical point is not merely
the action, but the success of the action. Now what is the
mark of success of the action? — how does the man know his
action is successful? The only answer is, by what he sees
or otherwise finds before him when he recognizes the familiar
surroundings ; that is, by the -perceptual experiences found to be
what the thought or memory presented in image. Without this
recognition or identification, action is vain. The test then is a
perceptual experience fulfilling2 the details of the -plan that
guided his action. Instead then of the action establishing or
guaranteeing the correctness, it is the correctness alone that
justifies the specific form of action. In other words, we are
correct in our first proposition made just above, namely, that
action cannot get to its appropriate goal without the preliminary
presumption that the thought that guides it is correct. Accu-
racy of imagery and truthfulness of thought are the conditions

1 Russell and Dewey,/0«r#. of Phil os., III., 599, and IV., 201.

2 That is, establishing, confirming, realizing, in the sense of giving the same
contents with the perceptual coefficients.

268 /. MARK BALD WIN.

of the substitution of these constructions for the original things,
which as guides to action they mediate. If the man fails to
recognize his home when he sees it, the plan may still be true
though to him his action has not been successful.

The * success ' necessary, therefore, does not attach to
acting thus or so, but to the mediating of the original physical
control for the individual's experience, or for a larger social ex-
perience with which the individual's normally agrees.

Now let us take up the second statement, to wit, that correct-
ness may be established without the motive to specific action.
Suppose a school boy is put to drawing a map, and draws one
that the teacher pronounces correct or truthful, using only the
data of his history and geography books, together with verbal
hints and instructions from others. Wherein consists the * cor-
rectness ' of the map ? We are told by the action theory that it
is correct or true because one might well act upon such a map,
in going say from Baltimore to Washington . Very good, but is this
the reason the boy made this map just what it is in its details ;
is this his motive for accepting the details as correct? Suppose
instead of doing what his teacher told him to, he had placed
Washington north of Baltimore instead of south. Apart from
any experience he has had, any promptings to action on his
part, that would do just as well. What then has determined
him, what has motived his actual construction in respect to cor-
rectness, what has guided and controlled the making of the map?
Evidently the fact that he did what he was told to do, what all
his copies required, getting what, in other words, could be con-
verted into experience of a different cognitive order — in this
case into the reported experience of other persons. All this is
what we have called * secondary conversion/ It accepts the per-
sonal control of another person's thought as mediated by one's
own present thought. This makes the thing accurate for one-
self.

Here the successful mediation of a socially common control
has established the correctness of the personal thought, apart
from any further mediation of the actual physical control in the
country represented in the map.

Suppose again, instead of making a map, the boy is to give

ON TRUTH. 269

an account of a historical scene, or to narrate a series of past
events. Here, as we have seen, the events, the transitive parts
of the thought context, are -per se subject to no further con-
firmation than that given by concurrent testimony.1 It is the
larger social control that mediates the by-gone events as true.
The truth is tested by its social acceptability — its corroboration
by testimony, written records, etc. — the process of verification
being that of secondary conversion into a recondite context of
original testimony. In some vague sense, we might say that
this could be tested by action ; it does have, as all knowledge
has, its following, its dynamogeny of active impulses, always
proper to the thought ; but the motive to the acceptance of the
result as correct is not that of doing something or going some-
where, but that of matching the details of one person's thought
with those of another's.

We may put this a little differently in order to sharpen the
essential issue. To act on a plan is to set up the plan as an
end for realization. The action is merely a means to this end.
Successful action is action that gets the end thus set up — no
longer as mere presentation but as fact. Now how is one to
know when he gets it? — certainly this confidence is not given
in the mere action, in the means. It comes only in the realization
of the thing, the something of fact that the construction repre-
sented, the fulfilment that the end prophesied. The correctness,
the truth, then, is the end-realizing character of the presenta-
tion set up.

These points seem to me very plain in the case of the control
mediated by memory. I say to you that your memory of this
or that is correct or incorrect. Or course, you can use it for
practical purposes, to get the original things, if it is correct ;
and you can take the risk if it is not correct. Your justification
in either case resides in your acceptance of its right to mediate
a sort of experience called fact, reality, or existence.2

1 A part from the remote possibility of tracing out physical effects — sub-
stantive changes — following upon the event.

2 It may be said in objection that by action is not meant alone the gross
activity of going to or handling things, but also those functional processes of
attention, etc., by which the presentation is constituted what it is. ' What is
true ' is only another name, it may be said, for ' what is,' under these determin-

270 /. MARK BALDWIN.

We may observe too, before going further with the discussion
of truth, that correctness is independent of the mode of origin,
and the degree of validity for theory, of the original control
meanings thus mediated by conversion processes. However con-
sciousness got the meaning ' physical control,' and however
there arose the secondary or mediate controls by which this and
others are mediated, still the relative modes remain what they
are in their respective progressions. Given a process that has
memories, then the entire place and role of that mode would be
destroyed if there were no conversion of it — no mediation into it
of the coefficients already made up in the earlier processes.
There are in the progress of consciousness ways of returning
to a relative immediacy ; this appears in the play and sem-
blant modes ; but the character of such modes is shown just
in this to be different from that of memory : their differentia does
not consist in relative correctness and incorrectness. They are
not held to the original dualisms as memory is. Memory has
its justification just in the relative correctness with which it
mediates the coefficients belonging to the worlds of fact or
existence.

In an important sense this is true also for thought ; it mediates
but does not banish dualisms. Yet the processes whereby the
mediating control of thought or reflection arises are so complex
and their subsequent meanings so legislative and seemingly
independent, that the discussion becomes very much more
complicated.

Before going on, however, I may point out a distinction that
sums up the opposing interpretations suggested above, and shows
itself sharply in the two current uses of the term ' control/ As

ing processes. This recurs below where we find the ' truth ' to be just the
'what is ' when the 'is' is the control in which 'the what' is acknowledged.
But there our analysis is the same as here (as is anticipated in Vol. I., Chap. III.) ,
i. e., we find that the control sphere is determined by coefficients of various
sorts of existence and is not resolvable into the motor processes that operate
with and upon them. As soon as there is a control meaning at all it is a dualis-
tic or pluralistic control meaning. There is no valid sense in which these co-
efficients can be called ' habits ' or * motor complexes ' ; for habit belongs at the
pole of ' inner ' as over against external control ; and conflict of habits or of
habitual selves is within the entire inner sphere that encompasses them (as in
the larger synergetic process of attention).

ON TRUTH. 271

used in my work it means any coefficient or character of a
content that classifies and delimits it, giving it a sphere in which
it is or might be present as itself. We may say of any presenta-
tion that it is or might be present in its proper class or sphere
of presence or existence. Now on this view the development of
knowledge is by the formation and development of these spheres
of control ; and however far away from the original control
coefficients a representative or ideal content may be, it still has
the meaning that gives it its assignment to that and no other
control. From this point of view knowledge develops within
the distinctions of control ; there is development of knowledge
in idea or thought only through the original controls mediated
by these modes — as we have just seen to hold of memory.

Calling this the theory of knowledge through control there
is a variant upon it that may be called the theory of control
through knowledge — the 4 control ' of action, and through it
of experience, by means of the mediating context of thought.
This is, as I understand it, the 'control' of the Studies in Log-
ical Theory and other works of the so-called Chicago school.1
It is control of a personal sort, management — considered actively
- or effective handling of the details of experience through
knowledge, reflection, etc. This distinction is, in the sequel,
important.2 Both phenomena are real, < knowledge through
control ' and ' control through knowledge ' ; but here it may be
easily seen that to the latter theory control is what is to the former
'inner' or personal control, one of the sorts of control in general
found actual by the former. The ' control through knowledge '
is a concept of this active functional relation between self and its
world of experience ; that of * knowledge through control ' is
one of logical or content relation between different modes of
experience.

It is of the utmost importance, in my opinion, that this dis-
tinction should be clearly understood. We may, therefore,

1 1 hope here and below I am not again misrepresenting Professor Dewey. On
the whole, though unfortunate, such experiences are frequent, generally mutual.
The writers mentioned accept so much that I also hold to, that it is desirable
that we keep on ' discussing.' My use of ' control ' goes back to my address on
' Selective Thinking ' given in December, 1897.

2 It is developed in detail in a later chapter of Vol. II. of Thought and
Things.

272 /. MARK BALDWIN.

seek to sharpen the line of cleavage between the two concep-
tions — * control of knowledge by facts,' and ' control of facts or
experience through knowledge' — by showing the fundamental
way in which the present day distinctions are really based upon
their implicit recognition.1

Let us take a detached point of view for the consideration
of the context of thought or ideas. Here is a set of presenta-
tions hanging before us for interpretation. We may consider it
in the greatest detachment simply for itself, as having its own
organization and relationships ; so considered it is the content of
formal logic. Formal logic strips thought of its references, its
implications, both of material truthfulness and also of worth for
appreciation. For it, inference is purely a matter of relation,
whether or not it be about something true or something good.
There is then a neutrality as to further intent in both aspects ;
the ideal of such a discipline is pure validity. For it thoughts
are subjects and predicates and nothing more.

Now it is evident that there are two ways of leaving formal
logic behind. So soon as we ask what further meaning may
attach to such a system of thoughts, we come upon the two
conceptions just distinguished : either the thoughts represent and
so mediate a control in which they are true, or they represent
and mediate a mode of appreciation which they fulfil. In the
one case, there is a recognition of a world of facts to be
acknowledged or extended ; in the other, there is the intent to
find worth or value in experience in and through the thoughts.
By the mediation of control we have the development of the
world of facts, for which the thought is instrumental. Here we

]I give this of course as my way of describing the difference of view be-
tween the two conceptions, not ' saddling ' it on anyone else. I cannot accept
Dewey 's account of our difference without modification — an account that makes
my point of view ' epistemological ' and his own ' logical ' (Journ. of Philos.^ May
9, '07, p. 255). For while my own is epistemological, recognizing a dualism of
self and not-self meanings, his view, while, as having only the dualism of idea
and fact in view, it can be called logical, yet as theory of control and reconcilia-
tion of the terms of the dualism, it is in its implications more epistemological ;
for it implicates control entirely of the inner or active sort. It postulates in other
words a closed inner process, thus making the entire movement of experience
' inner. ' To do this is I think to mutilate thought by banishing the ' outer '
control while clinging to the ' inner ' ; but the position is still epistemological.

ON TRUTH. 273

have experimental or instrumental logic — the science of the
control of thought through facts , or the extension of knowledge
as truth.

This science may be looked at in two ways according as
facts or thoughts are made primary. We may consider the
motive to be the establishment of thought by appeal to fact,
giving ' experimental logic,' as a method of the proving of
thoughts ; or we may consider the motive to be the establish-
ment of facts in thought, when we have the science of the
development of knowledge as controlled by facts : this is epis-
temology. We may with confidence write down both instru-
mental logic and epistemology as sciences of 'truth' — the
sciences of the control of thought through facts. Facts of any
world, is meant, of course ; and facts are experiences of an
original order of control coefficient.

But now in contrast to this set of motives and the sciences
that issue from them, there is the other great way in which the
context of thought has meaning. The neutrality of purely
formal logic may be departed from not alone in the way of
establishing truth by the control of thought by facts ; there is
the other departure from neutrality found in the intent to fulfil
personal purpose and interest. The system of thoughts is now
set up not merely for discovery or confirmation; it is made
means of the fulfilment of ends. All the selective and pur-
posive motives to individuation come up in the further reading
of the context preferentially and so to speak * axiologically.'1
The mediation of thought is now not the control by fact and the
embodiment of truth, but the acknowledgment of worth. Truth
is now means to satisfaction. All the interests besides the
theoretical come into their own ; and the theoretical interest
itself appears as a personal and selective motive.

This is what, I take it, such phrases of current discussion as
* control of experience,' * control of a situation,' ' dealing with
things profitably,' * readjusting conflicting habits' — phrases
used by the new school of theorists of the instrumental order —
really come to. Their emphasis is on the management of situa-

JThe term 'axiology ' was suggested, I think, by W. M. Urban for the sci-
ence of worth-predicates as contrasted with predicates of fact.

274 /• MARK BALDWIN.

tions, the manipulation of experience, through the use of a
context of knowledge. Knowledge enables us to cope with the
worlds of things, facts, experiences, situations, to get good? and
we use knowledge as means to an end. The inner control
factors — habit, attention, disposition, interest, constituting the
self — by which the whole movement is motived, are left
strangely unexplained. These are not logical terms ; they are
affective-conative contents.

This it is evident is the sort of mediation supplied to the
factor of inner control by the context set up. The ideas are
said to guide conduct, the knowledge to become practical in-
sight, the concrete situation to yield to the interpretation and
use that thought suggests. All these expressions deal with the
relation of the reflective to the concrete, of the idea to the fact;
but as soon as we use the word control with reference to it, we
see that the 'self of judgment — the selective, purposive, set of
factors — is the control that is mediated. By the knowledge,
the insight, the facts are interpreted, the judgment guided, the
self factor, whatever its constitution, determined and advanced.
There is then the control of facts through knowledge, by the
inner synergetic process that counts as 'self.'2 The motive is
the personal one of reaching an end ; a meaning is set up as a
desire, a remote worth, and the ideas are accepted as means.

Even the phrase * solving a problem ' used most often by
these writers invites this criticism ; for the ' solution ' of the
problem is in terms of ' readjusted habit,' ' successful action/
etc., all factors of just what I recognize as advancement of
'inner control' or 'self.' Such a 'solution' actually gives an
expansion of self-feeling, and a sharpened objective plan of
the truthful facts ; it is dualistic to the core.

2. WHAT TRUTH is.

We may introduce the discussion of the mode of truth as such
by asking what would be necessary to constitute an active con-

is the suppressed premise of the whole theory. It substitutes
'good ' for 'true,' and fails to recognize the nature of the inner control, for
which the good is 'good.' As soon as this is allowed, the correlative dualistic
term, the ' external ' control, returns also, and the problem is the epistemo-
logical one of truth — of • knowledge through control.'

•The organized self over against impulse, partial habit, etc.

ON TRUTH. 275

trol process — a mode of action — as the sole criterion or
mark of truth, and then ask whether thought or reflection
realizes such a requirement. In this way, we throw into relief
the differences between the two points of view already spoken
of and secure the added interest that comes from having current
theories in mind.

If then we ask what would be necessary to banish the re-
quirement of correctness, considered as agreement or corre-
spondence with some control read as external or foreign to the
process, our answer would be — simply the banishing of the
coefficients of externality. The question then would come back
to one which we asked and answered in the first volume of our
work — the question as to whether the active dispositional
processes could be conceived as entirely making up, and hence
as fully fulfilled in, the psychic object, apart from data
having coefficients requiring reading as ' external.' This we
found to be unrealizable for consciousness such as it is ; for
the existence both of things of the physical order, and of per-
sons apart from oneself, requires the operation of the motives
that mature in the mind-body dualism. In other words, the
dualism of existences, as meanings of separate control, forbids
a purely active determination of things ; and replica of ' the
things — the image-objects — together with the variations in
the correctness of these latter, are meanings that testify to the
truth of this. Now, how is it with the higher mediation, that
of truth, in which the terms of the dualism are those of reflection
or thought?

It must be admitted that we find here remarkable progress in
the sort of mediation which would banish the external control
factor, and so tend to reduce all controls finally to one, and that
the control of active inner process. This aspect of the devel-
opment may be spoken of first, before other motives are
taken up.

Two great movements are to be noted : one that whereby
the control of reflection as mode of inner experience is consti-
tuted, and the other that whereby the individual judgment be-
comes * synnomic,' that is, competent without further control
from that of other persons. Let us look at these two move-
ments in turn.

276 /. MARK BALDWIN.

The process whereby thought, functioning in acts of judg-
ment, becomes a mode of mediate control, has already been
described. It establishes a heightened and unified conscious-
ness of self, as inner control function, which is in a dualism
with all the objects of thought. These objects mediate the
inner control which the self in judging exercises over the mate-
rial it deals with. On the other hand, this inner control process
arises by a unification of those more partial factors which rep-
resent the inner aspects of prelogical meanings. There is,
therefore, a redistribution of the objective meanings also, their
resetting as outer pole of the dualism of subject-object. The
question now urgent is as to whether the original controls by
which the objects of thought were set up and recognized as
outer, etc., are now in any sense still operative, when the whole
context is made one of thought.

There is, in fact, from the point of view of the personal life-
process, no motive that arrests the original control factors, so
that we can say that they are banished. The objects of
thought, like those of memory, seem to require the sort of ful-
filment, in fact of some kind, that the objects of memory do.
Yet we find certain complications now for the first time present.
For whereas the objects of memory were in a sense * liftable '
from the original things they reported, and also on occasion
actually lifted from them ; yet this was merely an incident to
the essential fact that whether thus separated or not, the two
series dovetail together, submitting, on occasion, to all sorts of
vicariousnesses and substitutions without confusion.

In the redistribution found in reflection there is no such
continuity with fact. The mode of inner control through
thoughts establishes itself in a much more radical way. The
contents are not only * lifted ' from things and constituted as
a different mode of meanings, having a way of mediating the
original control, but this is done by a mode in which the whole
dualism is established in the inner world. The dualism is one of
conscious reflection. In its mediation of the original existence
spheres it sets its own form of dualism — a new and character-
istic one. The question at issue now is whether, by becoming
a system both of whose terms are within the one inner control,

ON TRUTH. 277

thought loses the intent to refer to spheres of control other than
itself. Put in terms of action this would read : granting that
the control processes of the inner world are active — motived by
purposes, ends, satisfactions, efforts, etc. — can this set of con-
trol processes find fulfilment in the mere contents it sets up, or
must there be still a recognition of the external? If the former,
then any * truth ' attaching to these contents would be derived
from their relative worth as fulfilling personal purposes and in-
terests. That is, there would be no necessity of going to a
sphere of fact, to any sphere of simpler perceptual or memory
process, to secure further fulfilment.

Only on such a supposition, I conceive, can an action theory
of truth be put through — or any theory distinctively pragmatic.
It would require the elimination of transcendence as meaning,
the loss of the external meaning of objects, that is, of any con-
trol-reference beyond the set of ideas themselves. Only if
ends were fully fulfilled in thoughts and thoughts had no further
meaning than to serve as ends — only in such complete coinci-
dence of thoughts and ends would further reference be unnec-
essary as corrective or control of either.

Now thought does not accomplish this — no more than does
memory. Thoughts do not satisfy purpose ; purpose runs up
against hard facts foreign to it. " If wishes were horses the
beggars would ride." Interest does not stay with thoughts ; it
seeks fulfilments in various external-seeming modes. The
thought system mediates these remote controls ; it does not
banish them.

The struggle of mind, however, to do what the pragmatists
attribute to it, is interesting and pathetic. It develops a system
of meanings that approximate and personate the completely
' lifted ' and self-contained.

Yet it cannot finally absorb all contents as only ends of action,
completely dominated by processes of inner control, and rest
with that. Not so. It marks its failure indeed by falling into
the diametrically opposite extreme. It aims to banish dualism
of controls and so suggests the effacement of ' self/ For it
develops the neutrality of a purely theoretical interest, and sets
up a theoretically valid system of thoughts — a system that is

278 /. MARK BALDWIN.

valid not because it can be acted upon, nor because it is true to
anything else, but because, simply and only because, it is
reasonable and self-consistent.

We have seen this motive in operation, and have described
it as the prime and only progression proper to thought.1 It is
all the while recognizing the necessity of control from fact. It is
inductive, tentative, experimental, schematic, quantitative, ex-
istential. But in the very bosom of this recognition of foreign
controls, it hits upon the contradictions and limitations in the
body of its data that motive the validity of .thought proper.
The whole, set up as identical and self-consistent, then floats
off in the ocean of logical form as such. Its validities take
the place of former inductive confirmations ; its relevancies
establish themselves within its own body ; its beliefs propagate
themselves in the form of syllogistic conclusions ; and a body
of implications is born that dispenses with any further control
than just its own constitution as a system of related meanings.

Now what has happened? It is clear that something impor-
tant enough has happened. It would seem that thought, the
system of implications, has won a victory. The flow of valid
relation would seem to take the place both of the concrete ap-
peal to action, and of its dualistic mess-mate, the matching of
thought by fact in a world of foreign control. Personal interest
has become theoretical, and a body of logical validities has
arisen to fulfil this personal interest.

This movement is analogous to the similar swing of the pen-
dulum— just where we should expect it — in the mode of
imagery, where the same two factors work out their respec-
tive places on a lower plane. Mere memory is everything, fancy
is worthless ; memory is the thing to be interested in, it guaran-
tees correctness and action ; it reports what actually is and must
be. Therefore let us rule out preference, personal interest,
the vagaries of desire ; let us recognize the ' is,' and banish the
vain * might be.' So here also ; thought sets up a system of
relations that become for it the valid simply by being linked up
together as they are.

But this of course is not final. Personal desire, purpose,

!In chapters before this (Thought and Things, Vol. II., Part III., Chaps.
X. ff.).

ON TRUTH. 279

action, * find themselves* in the very process by which theoretical
interest asserts its exclusiveness. A new dualism arises, one of
a self that thinks over against the system it thinks about. The
selections for action are not annulled even when the dictations
of fact seem to be. Thought even when most abstract is after
all a system of acceptances, beliefs, personal satisfactions ; and
the demands of such intent are charged into the abstract forms
of the syllogism. A whole world of valuation comes to find its
embodiment in the system of thoughts. Thoughts are thus
made ends in turn* just as before, and the external controls, the
things of fact, are reestablished for the ' realization ' of those ends.
We have to recognize, therefore, two general movements in
this progression of truth. First, there is the development of
validity pure and simple taking the place of the inductive match-
ing and conversion processes of external control. And second,
there is the persistent return of the control of fact through the
demands of action and appreciation in all the matters of concrete
life. Both of these are in so far irreducible. The satisfaction
of active tendencies reasserts fact, while the demands of abstract
validity tend to mediate truth in a system of static relations.

In short, if things were different, if the life of purpose and
action did find complete fulfilment in thought, so that thought
had no further reference than just this fulfilment, then such a
meaning as * truth ' would be impossible. The * valid ' too
would have no meaning. The * good ' would take their place.1
Thought fulfils desire and desire arouses and propagates
thought. There would be no further question as to the exis-
tence of the desired in any realm other than or beyond thought.
For to suppose such a realm would open just the question of a
sphere other than that of purpose or action, giving something
beyondybr the true to be true to.

I think we may safely conclude, therefore, in this matter of
the birth of personal judgment as a control mode, that while it
seems to show the possibility of bringing all the objects of
thought under a unifying principle of control by self, and so to
subject the whole content of reflection to the rule of personal
action and purpose ; yet it works out differently when we con-
Opening James* Pragmatism, which has just come to my table, I find this
heading in the Table of Contents "Truth is a good, like health, wealth, etc."1

280 /. MARK BALDWIN.

sider the actual result. Over against the self of control there is
developed a system of implication which is universal, self-con-
sistent, and relatively independent of the processes of individual
control and judgment. With the growing personalizing of the
knowing process comes the depersonalizing of the content of
thought. And thereupon there arises the new mode of inner as-
sertion through purpose and appreciation.

From another point of view, also, we reach results of some
interest — the point of view of the 'community,' the common
meaning, of thoughts. This introduces a somewhat neglected
but withal important set of considerations.

We found it necessary, it will be remembered,1 to recognize
as attaching to all judgment two modes of intent both of which
come under the general character of ' community ' ; there is
community in the two senses covered by the statement that the
judgment is a content having both a « by whom ' and a 4 for
whom ' force. Whatever is asserted is ' synnomic ' in that it
intends to be true j or everybody ; and it is also * syndoxic' in
that it is actually held only by somebody. And these two aspects
of community are not coincident. One gives the force of the
judgment as fit for acceptance; the other assigns the degree of
actual prevalence. One indicates the universality and validity
of the implication contained in the whole meaning ; the other
indicates the aggregate or catholic process that acknowledges
this validity.

Now the question of truth is necessarily a question of truth-
to-whom as well as of truth-for-whom ; of acceptance in a social
group, as well as of worth for acceptance by any single mind.
And the interpretation of the nature of the truthfulness or falsity
of a body of implications must not be one that mutilates the full
two-fold intent of community.

First, then, looking at the synnomic force — the intent for-
whom — of a logical content, we find the state of things just de-
scribed allowing of certain further extensions. The solidifica-
tion of the inner control, by which a self is determined over
against the objects of thought, goes far to bring about the domi-
nance of the selective and active control processes ; especially
1 Again alluding to a chapter not yet published.

ON TRUTH. 281

in the pursuit of hypothetical and inductive research. For
here the schematic meaning rendered as hypothesis is largely
a matter of personal interest and active pursuit. Allowing this
— despite the fact that in the result this tendency yields to
that of setting up an independently valid relational content,
as remarked just above — allowing, that is, that the processes
of active control are thus greatly emphasized in the individual,
still a further question arises as to the determination of the self
in these active terms. Is the self that now judges, one of
merely individual and private action and purpose ; is the con-
trol of the self-of-reflection in any sense a private control ?

No, it is not. All our work of analysis — and that of recent
social psychology — goes to show that the self of judgment is
the self of common function, of syndoxic control, of processes
so interknit as among individuals that it is reached only by the
elimination of personal and private factors. The self of judg-
ment is not the private self of appreciation and valuation; that
is expressly excluded in the terms whereby judgment is achieved.
The factors of inner control are generalized inner data, read back
and forth in the dialectic whereby the ' socius ' arises. All the
way along, the child's self is not one that asserts his crude first
preference or impression, but the disciplined and chastened self
that has grown, by continuing processes of secondary conver-
sion, into agreement with others. The opposite process also
shows the same result : 'the self that judges legislates its own re-
sult, so far as now and here accepted, back into the minds of
others, being obliged to intend it to hold for everybody.

The result for our theory of truth is clear. Truth is not a
matter of individual interpretation at all, whether in terms of
action or of cognition. Suppose we remove the factor of ex-
ternal control altogether and say that truth consists in availability
of knowledge to minister to action; still the question comes up,
whose action? Certainly not any individual's action ; this would
reduce the ' for-whom ' to the realm of private preference and
impulse, making the true that which ministers to personal grati-
fication in a narrow and private sense. This directly contradicts
the requirement of synnomic community. The interpretation
in terms of action would require the sort of common function or

282 /. MARK BALDWIN.

action that would support and guarantee the intent of universal
acceptance.

But this it is evident would again, in the larger social whole
of meaning, destroy the distinction between true and good. If
the truth is to be the socially available, in a pragmatic or utili-
tarian sense, it is then identified with the social end or good.
What is good in the larger social sphere of welfare is the social
end ; and this would then coincide with the thought, determined
as fulfilment of that end. The same result is reached then on
this construction, as on that stated above in individualistic terms,
— the determination of truth in terms of good — except that
now both terms are socially controlled.

This result does seem to be fairly reasonable and just. The
derivation of ethical good from social usage and habit, the
reflection of social utility in individual conscience, does seem to
result in a correspondence, in the processes of natural history,
between the accretions to truth and the accretions to good. But
the further difficulty would seem to be precisely that which we
found in the similar correspondence between individual good and
truth ; the difficulty of eliminating the factor of external con-
trol which appears in this case also in the realization of the
ends. Social or common thought could not of itself fulfil the
social end : that could only come from * things ' that realized
the thought. Social welfare is not — just as individual purpose
is not — if so facto fulfilled in the setting up of ends, in this
case of common ends. There is still here also the need of con-
verting the social ends set up into actual conditions of social life ;
just as there is the corresponding need in the case of the indi-
vidual's purpose. In other words, while the socially true is
always that upon which social action may go out ; still there is
the recognition of actual social fact , -whether or not it is what
is desirable for action.

The conclusion, then, is that the recognition of the synnomic
character of the judgment function, while broadening out the
reference * for-whom ' to judgment process generally, does not
remove the essential dualism between end and fact.1 The

1 This is my line of answer to Professor Moore's attempt to restate the case
in 'social ' terms (see below in this issue, p. 294).

ON TRUTH. 283

demands of action are not fulfilled, but only mediated, by the
thought context. So too with the coefficients of fact ; they are
mediated, but not banished, in a socially available system of
thoughts. The system, the entire accepted mass of social
judgments, thus mediates both controls , the socially inner or syn-
nomic and the external, physical and other,1 in a new dualism,
that of fact and end. Truth is still a relative conversion of the
contents of social acceptance into the facts of a system of ex-
ternal controls. Socially considered, truth has an existential
reference that is not removed by the statement of social desid-
erata. As of the individualistic formulation so of the * social '
— the criticism is the same — the determination of the true is
not entirely through the -postulates of conduct.

This result is further enforced from the point of view of the
other aspect in which all judgment has an intent of ' community '
— the aspect * by whom/ the aspect of relative catholicity.

Catholicity means relative actual -prevalence of acceptance^
or quantity of aggregate belief. It is that aspect in which
meaning is always for a hearer no less than for a speaker, for
further propagation no less than for repeated statement. We
have seen that in this aspect, as embodied in the linguistic forms
of thought,2 logical meaning never loses its hypothetical or
schematic force ; there are always in the social whole indi-
viduals still to instruct or convince, always a future of genera-
tions yet unborn to whom the linguistic is to be the mode of
essential training into competent judgment. What shall we say,
as to the interpretation of judgmental matter as true, from this
point of view?

We have to recognize at once that in this intent of renewed
« proposal ' to others the meaning is reduced from the logical -
the fully accepted or ' synnomic ' — to the prelogical, the sche-
matic and personal. That which is not yet accepted is, to the
intelligence not yet convinced, problematical and personal. The
question then becomes, how can such meanings, set as sugges-
tion or * proposal,' become for that person truth. Evidently only

!The other including the other persons who are read as the centers of
active and appreciative process just as the one individual is.
2 See the PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, May, 1907.

284 /. MARK BALDWIN,

by the processes of confirmation essential in all such cases of the
passing of hypothetical proposal into judgments of acceptance.
The processes are those of material confirmation, of experiment
and induction. But this means a direct resort to those coefficients
of control by which fact is established. It is a resort to the
sphere in which the hypothesis set up finds its relevant control.
The whole affair, then, the possibility of advance in the matter
of diffusion, propagation, gain in prevalence and catholicity —
the process by which more individuals concur in a statement as
true — is one that reasserts the external controls by which the
judgment secures its classifications and limitations. I see no
escape from this conclusion.1

It means that the essential process by which relatively
catholic acceptance, by -whom, passes into * synnomic ' accept-
ance,y#r whom, a matter absolutely requisite to the availability
of judgments for social use — that this process is one of direct
resort to the controls of fact. It is, once for all, not a resort to
the sphere of end or action. For the assertion at this stage of
the individual's purpose or desire would only emphasize that
divergence that would keep the meaning forever in the selec-
tive and a-synnomic stage of personal preference. Suppose I
decided every matter placed before me in the line of my per-
sonal interest and preference ; then the agreements by which
common truth and value alike are reached would be impossible.
There could be no truth, because there could be no judgment at
all in the mode of * synnomic community' — no judgment of
that universal import which implicates general agreement.

The consideration of the community intent of judgment,
therefore, reinforces, on both counts, our theory of truth. As
synnomic meaning thought is available for action in so far as it
is true — it is not true because available for action, either social
or individual or both. Of judgment in the forming, of meaning

1 It has been brought against me that in my address on ' Selective Thinking '
(chap. XVII. of Development and Evolution}, I made truth ' not what is selected
because it is true, but what is true because it has been selected.' But this does
not at all contradict what I now say ; for in that address I explicitly made the
' test of fact ' — the gauntlet of external coefficients — part of the process of
selection, just as ^1 do here. Truth is what is selected by the whole experi-
mental judgmental process.

ON TRUTH. 285

having a progressive intent * by whom,' this is all the more true ;
for the content not yet accepted could never be accepted, were
the rule of determination anything else than confirmation in the
sphere of control or fact in which the * truth ' is finally to be
acknowledged as open to common inspection.

There is, moreover, a further point to observe in this matter
of community. It is a point that comes up in connection with
catholicity considered as being a motive that recognizes the in-
dividuality of the single person. We say that it is impossible
to construe thought entirely from the point of view of the com-
munity of synnomic intent, that is, as a body of completely
established and once for all given truths. The reason is that
there is always also the intent of further propagation and ac-
ceptance in a growing social whole. The other aspect or intent
of community must come into its own as well, -and this recog-
nizes further judgment process not included in the generaliza-
tion of the personal attitudes, * for whom,' whereby the synnomic
meaning was constituted. This brings up the singularity and
separateness of individual judgment centers in a curious and in-
teresting way. The reference of the meaning to the singular
persons who do not believe is as real as that to the community
of persons who do believe.

Of course, we are not concerned here with the implications
of the acknowledgment of single individuals by others ; here we
have to enquire only into the effect of such acknowledgment
upon the theory of truth. This is shown in two ways that we
may now point out.

In the first place, the process of conversion, whereby the
proposed meaning passes over into judgment, is one of recog-
nition of personalities. It consists in one's taking their thought
as source of supply for one's own. The act of getting social
confirmation proceeds always by such recognition of others as
resourceful selves, whose knowledge is to be drawn upon.
Thus the very process by which thought is accepted as true im-
plicates the recognition of a set of judging selves reaching a
common result. The inference is that no theory of truth can
stand that does not involve a mode of consciousness having not
only the subject-object dualism — myself and what I think

286 /. MARK BALDWIN.

about — but also a plurality of subject individuals having a
common body of acknowledged objects, or a common body of
truths. There is then a common -presupposition in the implica-
tion of truth) but an individtial presupposition in the implica-
tion of belief. Truth is one ; knovvers of the truth are many.
The commonness of any item of truth is achieved by the act of
judgment ; but the progress of judgment, and with it the exten-
sion of truth, implicates a set of persons individuated as singular
selves.

The second point is that the individuals so implicated are,
each for himself, a center of inner control process ; and so are
they all in their meaning to each — a set of objects having this
character. The social selves are, therefore, truths in the same
sense that any body of contents are. For me, it is true that
you are Mr. Brown, just as it is true that my hat is white. The
essential singularity of you, as Mr. Brown, resides in the mean-
ing I must give you, of being a self which besides being a true
meaning to me, also has the common fund of true meanings with
me. The true context of thought as a whole for each then, in-
cludes in it all the others who are also reaching the same true
context of thought.

Here is a snag upon which the current instrumentalist
theories often strike (e. £*., Moore, in this issue of the REVIEW).
The readjustment of ' conflicting habits ' is depicted as a proc-
ess of attention, a process of restoring equilibrium of action
which, if more than a figure, must be in the individual. But
when it is pointed out that this is individualistic, resort is made to
the social force of the content and of the social character of the
self (often quoting my * social dialectic n). But this is not a reply ;
for there is no social attention , no process of reconciliation of
socially conflicting ivills, except by a return to the individual as
a center of action and thought. This problem, whether set in
terms of action (especially) or of thought (no less finally) must
be solved in terms of the individual's experience, however fully

1 My earlier work shows the common character of the self-content, but does
not for a moment deny the later logical individuation of singular selves. In
my present work I trace out this latter movement. Moreover I am disposed to
agree ( and in fact I argued for it in the paper on ' Selective Thinking ' ) that
the mechanism of subjective control is, as Mr. Moore claims, that of attention.

ON TRUTH. 287

it may also implicate common meaning. Either all controls
(other persons, as well as external things) must be entirely and
finally reflected in the common character of individual judgment,
or thought in the individual will reassert itself in a mode of
self-notself dualism, which is also one of -personal -pluralism.
This latter is the outcome in the mode of thought as such, the
mode of truth. Any essential reconciliation by an act of judg-
ment is impossible, since judgment sets up its own dualism of
reflection. The position that objectivity arises only when con-
flict is not mediated by judgment, and that judgment brings a
new immediacy, seems to me flagrantly untrue (see the exposition
of Miss Adams, The Esthetic Experience^. For when I judge,
I set up and acknowledge a content as object over against myself.
The dualism of fact and idea is mediated, in the establishing
of truth ; but just this it is that also erects the further dualism
of self acknowledging and things acknowledged, together with
that other most pregnant dualism between fact and end.

The true, then, is simply the body of knowledge, acknowl-
edged as belonging where it does in a consistently controlled
context. The characters of truth are those attaching to the con-
tent of judgment as being under mediate control. The mean-
ing of truth is its intent to mediate the original sphere of exist-
ence meaning in which it arose. It is possible and necessary,
just as any other sort of relative correctness is, wherever there
is an original experience having coefficients which the mediating
later experience intends and invokes. It is strictly an experi-
ential mode, since the controls which it mediates are those of
developing psychic meaning.2

1 1 suppose Miss Adams' is as accredited exposition — and I should say a
very clear and able one — of the position of the 'Chicago School.'

2 Further paragraphs follow on ' How Truth is Made,' ' What Truth is True
to,' 'Falsity and Error,' 'What Truth is Good For,' 'Relative and Absolute
Truth,' etc. — topics for which space cannot be taken here. The solutions all
depend, however, on these fundamental positions (i) that truth is a system of
objective contents set up and acknowledged as under a variety of coefficients of
control ; (2) that this system is socially derived and socially valid, though ren-
dered by acts of individual judgment ; (3) that the whole movement issues in
a dualism of self-acknowledging and objects-acknowledged, a dualism from
which thought as such cannot free itself.

DISCUSSION.

A FURTHER APPLICATION OF A RESULT OBTAINED
IN EXPERIMENTAL ESTHETICS.

In a recent experiment on the aesthetic value of a series of repeated
units in architecture and design,1 a certain marked difference in the
introspection of my observers suggested opposing ideals in their aes-
thetic appreciation, which, it has seemed to me, may have a wider
application than was claimed for them in that paper.

The difference was this : In looking at designs consisting of a
dozen or fifteen repeated figures, which together made a band of
simple decoration, the observers described their reactions in two dis-
tinct ways.

The first, whom I have called the rhythmic type, enjoyed the units
solely in terms of their rhythmic sequence. The activity of moving
the attention uniformly from one unit to the next like it was the only
charm, and they could not describe their pleasure in the repeated
design in other terms than those of simple temporal sequence, anal-
ogous to their pleasure in auditory rhythm.

The observers of the other type, from the first described their ex-
perience in different terms. They said the passage from one unit to
the next had no part in their enjoyment, but was often in fact a hin-
drance. Their pleasure depended on the satisfaction they got from
any unit as a fixation point, with a marginal amount of attention
bestowed on the other units extending both sides of the central fig-
ure. The experience was a stable one, on any figure for itself. The
fact that any one could enjoy rhythm of succession for its own sake,
apart from the value of the individual unit, they could not understand.
This divergence in method of apperception was at first puzzling, but
it ran systematically throughout the experiment. The rhythmic type
had little choice as to the unit of the series, provided it was repeated ;
the static type could not enjoy the repetition if the figure was nat in-
trinsically agreeable — otherwise repetition only made matters worse.

The rhythmic type could not enjoy the series unless enough time
was allowed them to look along the design and get accustomed to its
rhythm ; the static type enjoyed it more if they were not forced to look

1 'Esthetics of Repeated Space Forms,' Harvard Psych. Studies, Vol. II.

288

DISCUSSION. 289

along its length, but could keep one figure, whether for a long or short
time, as the center of balance.

As might be expected, the rhythmic type was more sensitive to
uniform spacing between the units. If these interspacings were
altered so that there were, irregularly, longer breaks between some
than others, the entire rhythm was broken ; the static type, however,
could not detect that they felt the interspacing to be equal, although
they knew it to be. They spent so much attention on each unit for
itself that they lost any impression of a rhythm in going from one to
the next.

These and other differences between the two classes of observers
have suggested that their two ways of enjoying decorative design are
typical of a deeper difference which characterizes two opposing demands
of art as well as of life. Many other conflicts in taste may perhaps
grow from this fundamental difference of attitude, but I have taken as
a possible illustration the characteristic art-appreciation of two great
classes of people, the American and the Japanese.

That there are both types of observers in every race and in every
community is of course indicated by this laboratory experiment. But
it is easier to point out wide divergencies in a national than in an in-
dividual taste, and I would suggest that in an average of many cases,
the Japanese would fall preeminently into the static division, while the
American would fall with more probability into the rhythmic. This
anticipation seems justifiable since every one of the apperceptive
differences among the laboratory subjects, points to a more extended
but similar difference in the ideals of the two nations.

There is a most interesting account of the aims of the Japanese
artist in two books * by Mr. Okakura, sometime director of the Imperial
Art School at Tokio, and now of the Hall of Fine Arts in the same
city, and they illustrate in a striking way the apperceptive method of
the extreme static type, as opposed to the more rhythmic ideals of
America.

These examples are the more interesting since we look to Japan
especially as the leader in decorative art. It might seem thus, that
uniformity in repeated designs would be its prime characteristic, but
on the contrary, it is just the reverse.

It is western Europe and America that have adopted uniform
repetition in design, but it is Japan and the East which demand varia-
tions to a degree that is confusing at first to one educated on the other
basis.

1 The Ideals of the East and The Book of Tea.

290 RESULT OBTAINED IN EXPERIMENTAL ESTHETICS.

The Japanese artist may embody the same idea over and over
again to suggest infinity, but in his decorative series, the figures and
often the interspacings, are not uniform. His method of apperception
is to immerse himself completely in each unit — which is, of course,
utterly opposed to the active hurrying from point to point which the
rhythmic observer feels essential to his pleasure.

It is indeed possible to go through the list of characteristics as they
appeared in the laboratory observers, and apply them with equal cor-
rectness to the art of the two nations. Much of America's improved
taste has come directly from Japan, so the styles which our public has
adopted, and which it has, so far, refused to adopt, show distinctly
where falls the division line, between the two typical tastes.

1 . The rhythmic types were but little affected by the beauty or
ugliness of the unit, so long as it was repeated.

We are certainly familiar with this taste in every-day architecture.
Rows on rows of undifferentiated pillars, windows, and machine-made
decorations valueless in themselves are tolerated; but the tiresome
character of the units does not shock us, as would one or two placed
above the level, or at unequal distances. Contrast with this the horror
of monotonous repetition in the mind of the Japanese (p. 96, Book of
Ted). "Uniformity of Design was considered fatal to freshness of
imagination." u In the tea-room the fear of repetition is a constant
presence." This dislike of repetition has gone so far as to center the
skill of Japanese artists on birds and flowers, rather than on the human
figure; for a human spectator being always implied by an art- work,
there would be a repetition of a similar form, if one were also repre-
sented in the picture ! The Japanese cannot understand our habit of
decorating dining-rooms with pictures of game or fruit. Since we of
necessity eat in the room, it is the place of all others where food should
not be duplicated in the pictures. One finds continually in cloisonne"
vases different designs within the same pattern, as if the designer were
impatient of that very recurrence to which we are accustomed. In
any art, observers of both types would agree that in proportion as a
unit has individual value, serial repetition becomes less allowable, so
it would naturally follow that to the observer whose every art-object
is an end in itself, repeated series would be intolerable.

2. The rhythmic observer in demanding a given amount of time
to feel his rhythm, demands necessarily that the succession be not
hampered by unequal attentive periods on the different units. On
the other hand the ideal of the Japanese is to ' catch a glimpse of
infinity ' in each beautiful figure, and the notion that he is bound to a

DISCUSSION. 291

time limit to move from one unit to another similar one, is abhorrent
to him. Each figure speaks for itself, and involves submersion in it,
not activity in moving from it.

Even the single art object must avoid symmtery (p. 17, Book of
Tea} since that implies a repetition of equal distances two sides of a
middle point. This in itself is in striking contrast to the American
habit of decoration.

3. Another interesting tendency of the rhythmic observer in the
laboratory was to greatly overestimate his interspacings. Both types
were asked to arrange a set of figures at distances from each other
equal to the width of the figures. Since these units had groups of
lines within themselves, they had the character of an optical illusion,
and both classes overestimated the spacing, but in an average of three
trials, the rhythmic type overestimated twice as much. Apparently
the very motor activity which constituted his pleasure, carried the
rhythmic observer beyond his limits and made him 4 see large,' where-
as the static type, more absorbed in each unit for its own sake, had
not the same motor impetus to overcome, and saw smaller.

Could there be a more obvious distinction between the tastes of
the two nations? The heavy fa9ades, long colonnades, many steps
and wide doors which characterize American architecture contrast
strikingly with the delicately small proportions of the Japanese build-
ings. We do not mean to imply the superiority of the 4 static ' de-
mand ; certainly the simple repetitions of the Greek temple make that
impossible ; but the common American 4 commercial decorating '
illustrates the rhythmic ideal without the balance of the opposing ten-
dency; and it maybe that degenerate Japanese decoration might show
the opposite fault of confusion, though as yet they seem to have pre-
served better their artistic conscience.

If one might generalize even more on this laboratory suggestion, it
would seem as if the Westerner's love of activity for its own sake was
an expression of his rhythmic life, his enjoyment of every experience
in terms of regular accented successions ; while the isolated absorption
in the unique experience of the Oriental was an equally characteristic
indication of the static method of apperceiving life as well as art.

There are both kinds of observers in every race, but in a general
sense the rhythmic activity of one leads to music, rhymed verse forms,
and regularly repeated designs, even to athletics and science, since
these are relative activities, never the perfect moments of repose.

On the other hand the static type tends more to the visuul arts,
especially to exquisite materials, color and workmanship, to small

292 EXPERIENCE, HABIT AND ATTENTION.

detail and endless variety in design. Moreover it is in the East that
mystic philosophy and religions flourish, since they express not rela-
tivity but absolute values, where temporal successions have no meaning.

Now that Japan is open to the west and gaining our scientific
activity, she is having to fight hard for her national art, while we are
learning from her the value of unique beauty as distinct from the
relative.

Perhaps the perfect art-lover as well as race, will represent a union
of both apperceiving types.1

ELEANOR HARRIS ROWLAND.

MOUNT HOLYOKE COLLEGE.

EXPERIENCE, HABIT AND ATTENTION.

In my review of Professor Baldwin's Thought and Things, Vol. I.,
in the PSYCH. BULLETIN for March of this year, I referred to Professor
Baldwin's criticisms of the attempt to state cognitive experiences as
part of the whole process of the readjustment of conflicting habitual
and instinctive activities through attention. Professor Baldwin's objec-
tion was that such an account cannot take care of the case of 4 a new
and unwelcome object which simply forces itself upon us, * * 4
which rides full armed through our walls and compels its recognition.'
My reply was to the effect that this very 4 new,' ' unwelcome,' involun-
tary, c forced ' character of the object, when analyzed instead of being
accepted as ultimate and quasi-miraculous, turns out to be just as much
a function of habit and attention as the 4 voluntary ' cases.2

Without any further attempt at analysis, Professor Baldwin in the
May number of the BULLETIN reaffirms his objection and adds another
edition of it from the standpoint of volitional instead of cognitive expe-
rience to the effect that in such a conception of experience there is no
4 motivation.' He says c I can't rest content with a dynamic that has
nothing outside to move it and no reason inside for moving.' This
sounds wonderfully like an appeal to the outside 4 unmoved mover' the
insoluble difficulties with which our Greek forebears, to say nothing of
Locke, Hume, Kant, et al., discovered. To rehearse these would, I
take it, be an unpardonable anachronism. As for ' no reason inside for

1 The MS. of this article was received April 4, 1907.

2 Most of this discussion was in MS. when Professor Dewey's article, which
more than anticipates the main point of this paper, appeared in the Jour, of
Philos., Psychol., etc., for May 9. But as Professor Dewey in that article points
out the necessity ' for constant dripping to wear down the stony hearted ' I send
this to print as a contribution to the 'drip.'

DISCUSSION. 293

moving,' what better reason could there be than the conflict of the
habitual and instinctive activities with its accompanying dissatisfac-
tion.

Again, Professor Baldwin asks : "If experience proceeds by
readjusting to situations, whence comes the situation that ' puts it up '
to it to adjust" (italics mine). Now the use of the preposition ' to '
both locates and at the same time begs the whole issue. In the view
which Professor Baldwin criticizes experience proceeds by situations
#/" readjustment, not by adjustments to situations. The situation to be
readjusted is one in and of experience, not one which is ' put up ' to
it from without. That Professor Baldwin must be aware in some
measure of this view seems implied in his next question : c Why does
it (experience) grow discontent with its own habit world ' (italics
mine) ? This certainly assumes that somebody regards the readjusting
situation as made by the discontent of experience with its own habit
world.

As for the answer to the question : 4 How this discontent can arise,'
that is not far to seek. As has been pointed out again and again, it is
due to the fact that habits are constantly coming into conflict. In
more general form experience has constantly to face the results of its
own work and utilize them as the material of its own further develop-
ment. And if it be further asked how this conflict reveals itself, the
answer is; through dissatisfaction and pain.

The same point is involved in the following questions on my answer
to which Professor Baldwin says he ' will stake the whole business ' :

" First. How can experience of the dynamic-relative type secure or
utilize knowledge that is socially valid without at the same time rein-
stating other things as valid, as the social fellows, including the thinker
himself?

" Second. How can an experience that has no environment except
its own habit and no reality, save its present function, set up any
dynamic at all ?

" Or to put these two questions in one : In what sense is the will
of the mother spanking the child part of the habit of the child, and
why does the child's experience take on this particular phase of rela-
tive dynamic — this occasional and very disconcerting phase of habit ?""

In this last inclusive and very concrete form of his question I
assume that Professor Baldwin does not intend to put me at any empi-
rical disadvantage by having the ' mother ' instead of the father do the
spanking — an arrangement which, personally, both as a child and as
a parent I have always favored. As for 4 staking the whole business

294 EXPERIENCE, HABIT AND ATTENTION.

on my answer,' that happily is not necessary, as that is a responsibility
already shared by many others.

In general, Professor Baldwin's questions all reveal the chronic
and apparently incurable determination of most critics of pragmatic
doctrines to take, at any rate in their criticisms, the terms c experience/
* consciousness,' 4 habit,' 4 attention,' etc., in the sense of the ' experi-
ence,' 4 consciousness,' 4 habit' and ' attention' of some one individual.
Whereas all these terms, when they are used without explicit reference
to a particular individual, refer to the entire world of activity in which
all experiencing individuals have their being — ' experience ' being the
general term for that world of activity, the other terms meaning partic-
ular modes or functions of that activity.

This does not mean that these particular modes or functions, such
as habit and attention, may be regarded as some sort of disembodied
4 things in themselves,' capable of an existence apart from individuals.
They are the functions, the modes of the activity of individuals —
habit being the conserving, the mechanical, the structural mode, atten-
tion the reconstructive, reforming, readjusting activity. While this
conception does not then in any sense attempt to substitute experience,
habit, or thinking in general or at large for the experiences, habits and
thinking of individuals, it does protest just as insistently against re-
garding these activities as shut up within the epidermic confines of
some one individual. However much John Smith's habits and ideas
belong to him, they belong also to the whole community in which
he lives and which is affected in any way by them, be that as large or
small as it may. Conversely, just this community center of habits and
ideas is John Smith. That this is to be taken literally and not figura-
tively, Professor Baldwin himself shows in his volumes on Mental
Development.

Now if this conception of the habits and ideas of the individual as
also functions of the whole community life, be kept steadily in view,
it would seem that the impossibility of framing such questions as the
above is as obvious as their answer.

Turning to the first question, Why should anyone speak of ; rein-
stating social fellows ' and ' other things ' ? Who has turned them out ?
Surely not those who teach that problems arise, run their course and
find their solution not in the solipsistic realm of John Smith's habits
and ideas as a complete world in itself, but in the habits and ideas of
John Smith as a conserving and reconstructive agent of the whole
community life.

As for the second question, in view of what has already been said

D7SCC7SS/ON. 295

of the place of habit in experience, it seems redundant to add: (i)
that habit cannot be regarded as an external enviroment to experience,
or (2) that experience does not have to ; get up' any dynamic. The
4 dynamic ' is already there : (a) in the obviously active character of
the habits; (3) in their coming into conflict; and (c) in the recon-
structive work of attention.

Professor Baldwin's putting of the c spanking ' question lends itself
somewhat temptingly to facetious treatment, but as the case is really a
serious one for all parties concerned, I prefer to treat it so and to ob-
serve ; first, that in urging the distinction between the experience of the
mother and that of the child, the question seems irrelevant to the orig-
inal issue, which is the possibility of stating the 'whole situation
whether it involves one person or a thousand, few or many things, in
terms of a conflict of activities resolved through attention. It insists
that the 'whole situation, including the mother, the child and the spank-
ing, whether regarded from the standpoint of the mother, the child or
both, is a system of conflicting activities undergoing reconstruction.
And from this standpoint there is no more need for identifying the
ideas or will of the mother and the habits of the child in the sense of
making them the same thing or making one a 4 part ' of the other, than
of identifying habit and will in the mother, or in running together
distinguishable functions or aspects of any other process.

Admitting, freilich then, the distinction between the activities of
the mother and those of the child, we must yet keep hold of the fact
that if they are not 4 parts' of each other, yet they are ' parts ^ in the
sense of constituent interacting activities, of one situation. This is
reflected, in general, in the very terms in which we state the case.
The performance as a whole may be stated either as ' the mother spank-
ing the child,' or 4 the child being spanked by the mother.' It depends
on the point of view. Again, the term ' mother ' implies that one of
the individuals is the kind of an individual that has the habit, the atti-
tude of caring for ' her child.' And the term ' her child' implies that
the other is the kind of a individual that is to be protected by the
mother even to the extent of being spanked, if need be.

Following the analysis still further, and still speaking from the
standpoint of the whole situation, how can c the will to spank ' be re-
garded as the exclusive production of the mother ? It surely is the
outcome of the conflict between the mother-attitude of perceiving and
keeping the child in safety and the child's present activity of, say play-
ing with the fire. It is a joint product of these two sets of activities,
and one is as essential as the other. The attempt to regard the will-

296 EXPERIENCE, HABIT AND A TTENTION.

ing as the exclusive production of the mother alone transforms the con-
crete will to-spank-this-child-now-playing-with-the-fire into an ab-
stract ' will to spank ' uberhaupt, with nothing particular to spank, —
the essence of a profoundly tragic situation.

But Professor Baldwin may say, after all ' the spanking ' is ' forced '
on the child as the perception of the-child-playing-with-the-fire is
forced on the mother, to which I would rejoin : (i) Even so, this but
sustains the original contention that however ' new ' or ' forced ' or
' unwelcome ' the experience may be, it still is statable in terms of the
readjustment of conflicting habitual activities through attention, and
even if for any reason one wished to state the case from the standpoint
of the mother or the child alone there are no other terms so far as I
can see for the statement. (2) The spanking is no more ' forced' on
the child than on the mother. In fact, psychically it may be much
less so. However skeptical, we may have been about it as children,
we have since learned that our mothers spake truly when they said :
"I am sorry that I am 'forced 'to punish you." (3) For both,
neither ' the spanking' nor the playing-with-the-fire viewed as an oc-
currence is any more ' forced ' than anything else that may have pre-
ceded, as running, talking, sewing, etc. Even the image of the child
playing with the fire is no more forced upon the mother than her own
breathing, her impulse to rescue the child, or her will to spank it. In
this sense, all those activities which constitute the ' self of the mother
upon which other things are said to be ' forced ' is as much ' forced '
as the things. In this sense everything is 'forced.' 'Forced' here
means simply ' happens.' And in this sense things are no more and
no less ' forced ' upon us than we are ' forced ' upon things, or ' forced '
upon ourselves. What goes on 'within our ' walls ' is as much ' forced '
as the thing ' which rides full armed through them.' As a matter of
fact, this mere happening of things, however ' new ' or ' sudden,' e. g.,
Professor James' classic thunder-clap, is not experienced as ' forced '
unless it conflicts with activities or attitudes already going on. And
even then the ' force ' obviously is not all on the side of the ' new '
factor. It is met by the force of the activities already there. Pur-
suing the figure, the forces behind the ' walls ' are not asleep waiting
to be aroused from without. They are already active. And if the
new factor be recognized as an improvement, it may be made the
basis, the ideal, of the reorganization, in which case the old habits
instead of the ' new ' content, will appear as the ' opposition.' It is,
then, only when there is a conflict of happenings and some content is
selected as an end, that the other activities, the readjustment of which

DISCUSSION. 297

this end demands, seem ' opposed ' and ' external ' to the end, but not
opposed or external to the ivhole situation or to 4 experience.'

As these remarks are already beyond their alloted space I cannot
take up the other and relatively minor points to which Professor
Baldwin refers. However, regarding my complaint of confusion in
the use of terms I should like to ask what is meant by ' trans-sub-
jective ' and ' extra-psychic ' realities in view of the following : " The
envelope of the developing psychic process is nowhere ruptured. The
controls, 'foreign' as well as 'inner' are all psychic meanings."
(BULLETIN for May, p. 126). A foot-note, p. 12, Thoughts and
Things, says extra-psychic 'means independence merely from the
individual's p§ychic process.' But a foot-note on the psychic ' enve-
lope ' in the above passage says : " It is, however, an envelope of
inter -psychic or common, in no sense private, meaning." So far as I
can see these passages use ' psychic ' in three senses: (i) As mean-
ing ' the individual's psychic process'; (2) as including other indi-
viduals ; (3) as including all ' foreign controls ' whether other persons
or things (italics mine).

A. W. MOORE.
THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

COMMENT ON PROFESSOR MOORE'S PAPER.1

Professor Moore's position assumes 'habit' and 'instinct* and
also ' conflict,' and withal ' attention ' to ' readjust ' them. But genesis
must account for all these things ; the same question of accommodation
vs. habit arises in the simplest organism and the ' motivation ' of a proc-
ess is not explained by the assumption of its whole machinery. It is
this that leads us — the critics — to say that the scheme is thoroughly
individualistic. It would seem necessary to restate it in social terms.
To this Professor Moore agrees ; but then, as I think, he fails to give
us a coherent restatement in social terms. The point at which he fails
is one indicated in the article above and in detail in my book ; in brief,
the social process has no ' attention,' the conflict of wills gets no sort of
readjustment in such terms as habit and instinct — save by a superficial
analogy — and the whole mediation must go back to the individual proc-

1 As it happens a proposed contributor to this issue deferred sending in his
paper ; and I take the space to print part of a chapter of volume two of the
work that called out Professor Moore's remarks. In that article (above, p. 264)
I answer both his and Professor Dewey's criticisms (Journ. of Philos., May 9,
1907) more effectively, by expanding my own view, than I could in such more
fragmentary discussions as this.

298 COMMENT ON PROFESSOR MOORE'S PAPER.

ess again, dealing now with socially derived and socially valid mean-
ings. That is, social truth must be rendered in individual judgment
— must be what I have called synnomic. But just here the individual
factors of the whole mode of personal judgment reassert themselves, and
the new dualism of self and things, knower and known, is consti-
tuted. In other words, the factor of foreign control again arises, in
the constitution both of things and of the persons of the objective world
of reflection.1

I am, as Professor Moore is, seeking for a reconciling mode of
experience; I do not, however, find it where he does. I cannot avoid
seeing that for the knower there is a very compelling and intruding
sort of experience — that is what the much criticised sentence about
the * unwelcome presence that rides full-armed through our walls *
means, and about all it means. This is for and by him, the knower,
read as a c foreign control ' over against the tendencies — habits, instincts,
volitions, etc. — that come to mean, all the way through, inner control.
Judgment bridges this chasm, but opens another one — that of the
dualism of reflection. The real mediation is found in the c semblant*
consciousness as I intimated in my closing remarks on Professor
Moore's review (Psychological Bulletin, April 15, pp. 124-6).

J. MARK BALDWIN.

JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

1 In this connection I may answer Professor Moore's question as to the
meaning of 'psychic.' It is as he says " (i) the individual's psychic process,
(2) as including other individuals [among the meanings it gets and entertains]
and (3) as including all 'foreign controls ' whether other persons or things
[also among the meanings it gets and entertains]. My explanations are inserted
in brackets. It is all ' psychic ' in the one sense ; and that hits upon the re-
quirement noted above, that even when the common or 'social ' point of view
is taken, the function of readjustment, of advance, of mediation must be in-
terpreted as going on within the ' psychic-envelope 'of the individual's mind.

N. S. VOL. XIV. No. 5. September, 1907.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

THE NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL AND
THEIR RELATIONS.1

BY PROFESSOR WILBUR M. URBAN,
Trinity College.

i. THE PROBLEM.

The problem of feeling and will and the nature of their
relations is perhaps the most difficult within the entire field of
psychological analysis. The reason for this is not far to seek,
for nowhere is it more important that the distinction between
appreciative and non-appreciative description should be realized
and a true theory of their relations formed, and nowhere is there
such confusion on these points as precisely in this sphere.2

To illustrate my point in detail, the distinction between feel-

1 In two recent articles entitled Definition and Analysis of the Consciousness
of Value, PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. XIV., Nos. i and 2, a definition of
feelings of value and an analysis of the different modes of worth experience
were developed which, as was explicitly stated, presupposed a theory of Feeling
and Will not fully given in those papers. The present article, while in a sense
an independent discussion, nevertheless serves to answer certain questions left
unsolved in those studies.

2 The consequence has been the widely divergent analyses with which psy-
chologists have been scandalized. The original distinctions within this sphere
were made from the appreciative point of view because analysis of feeling and will
first began with the worth problem (Plato and Aristotle and later the English
Utilitarians). As the original interest became secondary to that of non-appre-
ciative description, the distinctions developed in appreciative description, when
the meaning of the feeling, i. e., its presuppositions, was taken into account,
were applied without reflection to hypothetical feeling abstracted from its
presuppositions. Tradition was all powerful here (for we are naturally conser-
vative in all that affects the feeling and worth side of experience), and when at
last independence of analysis appeared, the question of the retention or elimi-
nation of these distinctions seems to have been determined largely by personal
inclination rather than by considerations of scientific method, and hence again
the divergence in analyses.

299

300 WILBUR M. URBAN.

ing as passive and will as active is an appreciative distinction.
One concrete attitude is relatively more passive with reference
to its meaning in a series of attitudes, with reference to what
succeeds or precedes ; but when we abstract from the meaning
of the attitude and apply the distinction to hypothetical content,
it involves us, we shall find, if it is made absolute, in contradic-
tions, and is far from representing the facts. The distinctions
between affect, impulse, desire, wish and will are primarily
appreciative, made with reference to the meanings of the atti-
tude and, as we shall see later, go back to certain cognitive
differences in presuppositions. And finally, the distinction
pleasantness-unpleasantness, and its selection as the dominant
in the feeling complex or attitude to the exclusion of other
aspects, is one which has been determined largely by apprecia-
tive purposes, t. e.9 it is the abstract aspect which appears empha-
sized when the attitude (subjective) is transformed into a state,
as object of another attitude. Now when these appreciative
distinctions, which are largely concerned with the intent of an
attitude rather than with the content of a state, are taken to
apply to content from which meaning has been abstracted, in-
teresting difficulties and contradictions arise. When the distinc-
tions between passive and active, and feeling and conation (will),
are taken as non-appreciative ultimate distinctions, we have a
ualism in affective-volitional meaning which the several dif-
^erent dualistic theories seek to bridge by establishing relations
of causal determinism between the two aspects. One finds
feeling, as a distinct element (passive pleasantness or unpleas-
antness), the necessary antecedent of all conation ; another,
giving the primacy to conation, finds in the passive feeling the
sign of the satisfaction or arrest of some antecedent active im-
pulse or desire ; or, finally, the dualism may be pressed so far
(as in the recent work of Schwartz) as to admit the existence of
volition without feeling.

The extent to which these fundamental conceptions color all
worth analysis and theory is obvious. Psychological hedonism,
with its incapacity to explain a good part of worth experience,
is the result of the first. A theory which is unable to include
the aesthetic in the sphere of worths is the result of the second.

NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL. 301

From the third we get the strained formalism of Kant and
Schwartz. In view of these difficulties, no theory of feeling
and will and of their relations (and some theory is necessary) is
of any value unless it is formed with a clear consciousness of
the problem involved in the relation of the appreciative to the
scientific description of the psychical.

There are two views which have been formed with this clear
consciousness of the methodological presuppositions involved.
On the one hand, Meinong tells us, to take him as typical,
the relation of feeling and will can only be determined from the
worth standpoint, while Wundt, to take him again as typical,
looks upon the distinctions introduced from the point of view
of worth analysis, such as the distinctions between feeling,
desire and will, as * pure logical artifacts, not in the least, how-
ever, psychical ultimates distinct from each other.' As a con-
sequence, the distinction between feeling and will is for the
former ultimate, while for Wundt's monistic theory, there is a
fundamental identity (of feeling elements) underlying all these
retrospective artificial distinctions.

Between two such divergent views, with such different
methodological presuppositions, there would appear to be no
middle ground and yet to my mind both have a relative validity
and are susceptible of reconciliation. More than this, I am
inclined to think that the Identity theory, developed from the
standpoint of analysis of content, is the only one which will har-
monize with the distinctions in affective volitional meaning,
developed from the worth standpoint or the standpoint of func-
tional intent.

2. DUALISTIC THEORIES OF FEELING AND WILL. CRITICISM.
We may begin our study, then, with a brief critical exami-
nation of those views which, upon the assumption of absolute dis-
stinction between feeling as passive pleasantness or unpleasant-
ness and conation as active, seek to establish a relation of causal
psychical determination between them. If the distinction is one
of content viewed apart from its intent or meaning, then it is
necessary that experience shall show us either passive feeling
as the necessary antecedent of all active states which are called

302 WILBUR M. URBAN.

conative or, on the other hand, that all passive states of feeling
have as their necessary antecedents arrest or accommodation
of conscious impulse or desire, in its very nature, as content,
different from feeling.

(a) The first of these dualistic views, in its original form of
psychological hedonism, was beautiful in its simplicity. Feeling,
as a passive state, is always an effect of content, sensation and
idea, and their relations. The aspects, quality and intensity,
vary with the changes of sensational and ideal content, and the
intensity and quality determine impulse, desire, etc., the active
side of consciousness.

A very superficial examination of the facts suffices to show
us that, if by feeling we mean simple passive pleasantness or
unpleasantness with certain intensities, it is by no means the
necessary antecedent of any given impulse or desire. On the one
hand we have simple impulses for which there is no such con-
scious hedonic antecedent. When the impulse to take exercise
comes over me at a given time, introspection will show me that
it is necessarily preceded neither by a conscious feeling of
unpleasantness nor by an anticipation of pleasantness, although
either may be the antecedent. On the other hand there are
phenomena of a more developed conation which we have seen
described as * intensitiless ' acts of preference where affective
disturbance is at a minimum, and which, if feeling be described
as passive hedonic intensity, certainly show no such feeling ante-
cedent. Impulses with the note of obligation in them are fre-
quently of this character.

That there are changes in affective volitional meaning (Ge-
muthsbewegungen, in the broadest sense), described as im-
pulse and desire, which do not presuppose an antecedent passive
hedonic consciousness or consciousness of hedonic difference, is
clear. If we include in feeling other qualities such as tension-
relaxation, restlessness-quiescence, it is merely a verbal quibble
to raise any question of antecedent and consequent. We have
already attributed to the concrete feeling state the essential
character of the conative side, a virtual acceptance of the Iden-
tity theory.

This fact, that there are numerous impulses and desires which

NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL. 303

follow immediately upon presentation and judgment without
appreciable hedonic consciousness intervening, is, moreover,
admitted by the upholders of this theory of dependence, without
however sacrificing the theory. Thus Kreibig speaks of dispo-
sitional feelings below the threshold as determining impulse and
desire, while Ehrenfels speaks of desire as determined by feel-
ing or feeling-dispositions. And even when it is actual feeling
which is conceived as causally determinative, it is not, as we
have seen in our previous analysis of Ehrenfels' worth defini-
tion,1 feeling as a separate antecedent state, but the feeling dif-
ference as determined by the object as existing or not existing
and the feeling disposition of the subject. In the case of the
impulse to exercise it would be — not necessarily the unpleasant-
ness of the present state nor the anticipated pleasure — but the
difference between the two which constitutes the necessary pre-
supposition of the impulse or desire.

But it is precisely in these admissions, and consequent modi-
fications of the original theory, that we see the failure of this
entire theory of dependence growing out of the separation of
feeling from conation. For a feeling which does not rise above
the threshold is a pure conceptual construction. So also is the
feeling difference when made the presupposition of desire.
For a feeling difference can be an actual psychical determinant
in only two ways : either it is a presentation constructed upon
two presented feelings and then we have presentations as the
presupposition of the desire, or else this difference is felt as
tension or restlessness, as an expectancy generated by the hypo-
thetical disposition, the active conative moment supposed to be
determined by the feeling, in which case there is no need for
such duplication of phenomena. In the latter case then, where
feeling difference is conceived to be the presupposition of cona-
tion, it is either not distinct from conation or else it is a purely
conceptual construction.

(3) The second theory of dependence, which has been
developed upon the assumption that feeling and conation are
ultimates from the point of view of content, is that all feelings
have as their necessary antecedent some phase of conscious co-

1 Cf. articles already referred to.

304 WILBUR M. URBAN.

nation, and that feeling is the sign of arrest or satisfaction of
desire. Here, again, if conation is conceived to be an aspect of
consciousness which, as content for non-appreciative description,
is distinct from feeling, it is difficult to establish a thorough-going
relation of dependence. It is true that affective attitudes on the
plane of worth suggestion presuppose the activities of acknowl-
edgment or rejection, but even here it cannot be said that the
relation is one of antecedent and consequent, nor can it be said
that the worth feelings are passive pleasantness and unpleasant-
ness. But it is by no means easy to include in such a general-
ization all the phenomena of feeling. There are in the first
place the feelings which accompany simple sensations, the
agreeable or disagreeable affective tone of an odor or color.
There are also the sudden emotions of surprise and fear and
finally the instinctive emotions, inherited and appearing at first
without any conative experience as their antecedent.

As to the first group of phenomena, those who hold the view
that feeling has its rise in arrested conation insist that even these
phenomena fall under the general law. So also does the func-
tional theory in general when it is consistent and sharply distin-
guishes feeling and conation. Thus, in a recent article written
from this point of view, unpleasantness is conceived to follow
upon arrested conation while pleasantness appears only when
conation is accommodating itself after arrest. States which do
not contain conative moments are neutral.

Nevertheless, the difficulties in the way of such an answer
are not to be minimized. If we examine the reasons given for
this inclusion we find that they are of two kinds — the first being
analytical and introspective, the second functional. The first is
to the effect that it is impossible to get the feeling tone of a
simple sensation uncomplicated with the aspects of tension-relax-
ation, restlessness-quiescence, with their suggestion of conative
presuppositions ; the second, the functional argument to the
effect that the law of decrease of affective tone through habit
and repetition of stimulus, is primarily a law of adaptation
of tendency to stimulus, and that, when an odor or tone loses
its affective tone through repetition, it does so because the tend-
ency, or need of excitation of the organism, produced by arrest,

NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL. 305

has been satisfied. When we look more closely at these argu-
ments, the difficulties referred to appear. Here again, as in
the preceding theory, the relation can be made universal only
by going beyond immediate experience and supplementing it with
hypothetical conceptual constructions. The aspects of tension-
relaxation, of restlessness-quiescence, if they appear in the simple
feeling tone of sensation, are analytically separable from the
feeling as antecedent content, intrinsically different from feel-
ing. Impulse and desire are not conscious presuppositions of
the feelings. When the intensity of feeling tone diminishes
with repetition, it does not necessarily mean that actual
impulse or desire gradually disappears but merely that some
disposition or tendency diminishes in strength with repetition of
the stimulus. The proposition that all feeling presupposes cona-
tion holds only when modified to read, or conative disposition
and tendency.

The same reflections hold good for the other phenomena
of feeling, the sudden emotions of surprise and fear and for the
inherited instinctive emotions.1 When, upon walking through
the woods, I am surprised with the odor of flowers, this surprise
has as its presupposition no specific experience of impulse or
desire. Such surprise is possible with relative passivity of con-
sciousness although, were there complete passivity, even sur-
prise would be impossible. The situation seems to be that at
least some general conative tendency toward objects other than
the flower, objects of presentational activity, must be arrested in
order that surprise shall arise. The surprise is not occasioned
by the odor directly but by the arrest of some other conative
interest or tendency. It does not, however, presuppose actual
desire. The same may be said of the instinctive emotions.
Such affects presuppose dispositional or instinctive conative
tendency, not actual conation : they are themselves experiences
which may with equal right, be described as feeling or arrested
impulse. Finally there is the aesthetic feeling in which, while
conation is presupposed dispositionally, certainly no conscious
impulse or desire necessarily preceeds. Analysis shows the
aspects with conative connotation, relaxation and repose, as
well as the merely hedonic, but these are aspects of the total
attitude, not different states except for retrospective analysis.

306 WILBUR M. URBAN.

(c) The conclusion of these reflections is then that a thorough-
going dependence of feeling, as distinguished from conation,
upon conation can be established only when we modify our
proposition to read conation or conative disposition or tendency.
This is practically the conclusion reached in the examination of
the theory which makes conation determined by feeling. But
when we have introduced the dispositional concept, that is when
we have gone beyond the distinctions of immediate experience
and supplemented them with conceptual constructions, it does not
matter greatly whether these dispositions are described as feel-
ing or desire dispositions. As Ehrenfels wisely recognizes, for
worth theory — which is concerned with the changes in valua-
tion and their laws, as determined by changes in dispositional
presuppositions — it does not matter whether these dispositions
are described as affective or conative : the laws of valuation
will hold on either assumption. The conclusion which is of
importance is, however, that the distinction between feeling and
will is not one implicit in psychical content, but rather an appre-
ciative distinction due to the intent of that content.

3. MONISTIC AND GENETIC THEORY OF FEELING AND WILL.
The chief outcome of our consideration of two theories of
the relation of feeling to will which start with an absolute dis-
tinction between them, as between the active and the passive,
is that no thorough-going relation of dependence can be estab-
lished either way except by leaving the sphere of psychological
fact and supplementing it with the conceptual constructs of physi
ological dispositions. If, however, in order that we may fill
out this relation of dependence, we include among the attributes
of feeling restlessness-quiescence (which have the conative con-
notation in them) it is doubtful whether anything is gained by
this complete separation of the two aspects of experience. The
* Identity ' theory denies that this distinction is fundamental, but
asserts rather that it arises only from the difference in point
of view from which we look at one primary content of conscious-
ness. My own view is that this theory, rightly understood,
affords the most satisfactory basis for a true theory of vaiues as
well as does justice most completely to the facts of analysis.

NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL. 307

We shall now turn our attention to the development of this
theory.

(a) In its most general form, it has been well stated by
Wundt in the psychological part of his Principles of Morality?
There we are told that these distinctions are purely conceptual,
determined by the point of view from which we observe a series
of inner events, the flow of consciousness itself being not con-
cerned with them. " Every act of will presupposes a feeling
with a definite and peculiar tone : it is so closely bound up with
this feeling that, apart from it, the act of will has no reality at
all. On the other hand, all feeling presupposes an act of will ;
the quality of the feeling indicates the direction in which
the will is stimulated by the object with which the feeling is
connected."

This view is developed in more detail from the standpoint of
psychological analysis of content in the last edition of his Psy-
chology. Here the affect (or Gefiihlsverlauf) is taken as the
ultimate of concrete affective-volitional meaning or intent and
the affect (which as content, is a complex of feeling elements)
may be called emotion, impulse, desire and will according to the
nature of this movement or complex. "The question is no
longer what specific conscious content the will is, but what as-
pect an affect must assume to become volition." This specific
difference he finds (i) in the character of the end feelings of the
affect and (2) in a certain meaning or intent of the total affect
which can be formulated only in retrospective logical terms. As
to the first point, conation or will process is an affect which
through its movement produces a final feeling which in turn
destroys the affect. It is the final feeling of relaxation which
distinguishes the conative process from emotion. Again, in
the entire affect, when experienced as conation, there dwells a
Ziveck-richtung which is realized in the relaxation of the end
feeling. Primary conative processes, such as impulse, are
affects with this meaning ; secondary derived conation, such as
desire and will, are affects in which certain single feelings and
presentations, elements in the total affect, are singled out as the

1 Wundt, Ethics, Vol. I., 'The Principles of Morality,' pp. 6 and 7. Also
Physiologische Psychologic (5th edition), Vol. III., chapters 16 and 17.

308 WILBUR M. URBAN.

motive for the final feeling of relaxation. This Zweck-richtung,
which we retrospectively find the distinguishing character of
affects with conative meaning, arises from arrest. So that * de-
sire is not so much the preparatory stage of an actual, as the
feeling basis of an arrested conation.' The actual affect which
constitutes desire may be viewed as feeling or conation accord-
ing to the point of view from which it is observed. All these
concepts are finally logical artifacts and not fundamental dis-
tinctions of content.

A similar view was, in all its essentials, developed by Bren-
tano l before Wundt's present formulation, and developed, more-
over, from the point of view of worth analysis. His well known
claim that in a given series of affective-volitional meanings, a
vital series of adaptation passing from feeling to will (as for in-
stance the following, sadness, longing for an absent good, de-
sire to secure it, courage to undertake to secure it, decision to
act), it is possible at no point to make an absolute distinction
between feeling and will. It is rather a continuous series of
meanings in which these two aspects can be distinguished only
relatively and conceptually.

The criticisms passed upon this conception by the upholders
of the dualistic views are instructive as showing the contradic-
tions involved in the theories which make these distinctions
ultimate differences of content. The upholder of such a dual-
ism must put his finger on the point in the series where feeling
ends and conation begins. Ehrenfels finds it immediately after
the first stage of the series. Sadness alone is pure passive un-
pleasantness. All the others have the active principle of desire
in them. But both the superficiality and the contradictions in
such an analysis become immediately evident. For what is in-
volved? Clearly, to make the distinction at this point necessi-

^he considerations which were influential in this analysis of Brentano
were precisely those which we have already taken cognizance of. If feeling be
taken as identical with passive pleasantness and unpleasantness, valuation can-
not be reduced to determination of conation by feeling, to pleasure causation.
Feeling, it is true, viewed merely as pleasantness and unpleasantness, is pres-
ent throughout the entire accommodative or vital series, such as that described
above, but it becomes less and less significant in the latter stages where the dy-
namic tension aspect becomes dominant. Hedonic intensities become irrele-
vant redundancies and we have practically intensitiless conation.

NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL. 309

tates the throwing of the emotions of hope and courage from the
feeling to the desire side of the distinction, as indeed Ehrenfels
does, and the logic of such procedure would be to confine feel-
ing to pleasantness and unpleasantness as passive and unspeci-
fied states. But even if this violence were done to appreciation
and its descriptions, the superficiality of the analysis would
come to the foreground. Can we say that sadness is pure pas-
sive unpleasantness? Certainly not. Already in the relatively
passive state of sadness we have the preliminary stage of the
accommodative reaction, the vital series. This is to be found
in the expansion-tendency of the feeling. The concentration
of images in this phase of brooding sadness, the expansion
tendency of the feeling, contains already an immanent activity,
differing only in degree from succeeding phases of more ex-
plicit conation. The fact of the matter appears to be that feel-
ing seems to be mere feeling, and passive, only when we sepa-
rate it, retrospectively, from the functional whole, the vital
series of which it is the first phase. Prospectively, in the first
phase of expanding feeling, is already contained a sense of the
strength and extent of the conative system arrested, which
passes without a break over into the relatively more active emo-
tions, desire and will, acts which follow as the arrest increases
in strength and duration. From the standpoint of these, the
initial feeling, viewed as a cause, seems relatively passive.

If, on the other hand, we seek, as some do, to find the point
of distinction between the more active affects and decision, at
the end of the series, the only point of difference that we can
find is again an end-feeling of relaxation. The origin of this
end-feeling, and of the characteristic sensations which go with it,
is to be found in the simple fact that the general disturbance,
displayed in the series of affects preceding the moment of de-
cision, has found a definite motor channel in some specific bodily
movement or word-formation. But to separate this final phase,
this end-feeling, from the affects which precede it, is again to
give us a mere torso, an unreal abstraction. The entire vital
or worth series is one, with a continuity of affective-volitional
meaning. Each phase may be interpreted as conation or feel-
ing according to the point of view from which it is observed.

310 WILBUR M. URBAN.

(c) The consideration of these two attempts to mark off the
active and passive aspects of experience — to differentiate, in
terms of elementary content, the affective and conative phases
of a total vital worth series — shows that such an effort must
prove unsuccessful. If we abstract from the meaning which
the attitude has by virtue of its place in such a series, the dis-
tinction between active and passive, and with it that between
affection and conation, lapses. We have in these conclusions
therefore, without further analysis, the grounds for our negative
position with regard to the dualistic theories of feeling and will
which find the worth moment in feeling conceived as passive
pleasantness-unpleasantness or in desire, and for our criticism
of any conception of causal determination between them. They
afford positive grounds moreover, for our definition of worth as
* affective-volitional meaning * and for the view that the worth
experience is a concrete feeling attitude, in which references to
conation are always present and conative dispositions always
presupposed.1

4. INTERPRETATION OF THE MONISTIC THEORY ; ITS RELA-
TION TO THE DEFINITION AND ANALYSIS OF THE

CONSCIOUSNESS OF VALUE.

(a) Nevertheless, while this duality, this distinction between
feeling and will, is not one of elementary content, it is still a
duality of meaning which becomes fundamental from the appre-
ciative point of view. They are two meanings of the same
general content, but what determines the difference in meaning?
How is this differentiation to be understood? Our answer to
this question must be in the general terms of the Identity theory,

1 It is interesting to note that in a recent article, ' The Nature of Conation
and Mental Activity ' ( The British Journal of Psychology, Vol. II., part i) Pro-
fessor Stout, while defining conation ' as a complex experience ' which, how-
ever, contains as one of its elements 'a simple and unanalyzable element
uniquely characteristic of it — an element from which the whole derives its dis-
tinctively conative character' (which'he describes as felt tendency and which is
not identical either with motor sensations or affection), nevertheless admits that
this felt tendency and affection, though distinguishable, do not occur separately,
and he proposes to use the term ' interest ' to express the unity of conative and
affective characters in the same process. I cannot see that this view differs
essentially from the one developed here. As analyzed by Professor Stout, these
two aspects are retrospective abstractions.

NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL. 311

that is, that the difference can be described only in conceptual,
logical, retrospective terms. By this it is meant — to make the
general statement more specific — that this duality, this distinc-
tion, is one of recognitive and selective meaning. The passive
or active meaning is one which the attitude gets by reason of its
place in the vital series and one which becomes explicit only
when the attitude is viewed in relation to preceding or succeeding
phases of the series. They are differences of genetic mode.

If we seek to characterize retrospectively these two modes
— if, in other words, we seek to convey their internal meaning,
after the fact — we find that we can do so only in terms of cog-
nition, by description of the cognitive presuppositions of the
attitudes. According to Wundt, the special aspect which an
affect must assume to become volition, is an immanental Zweck-
richtung, and this aspect can be understood only as change in
cognitive attitude, not in content. In this connection the at-
tempt of Miinsterberg to characterize the distinction is instruc-
tive. " In feeling," he says, " an object, independent of us, is
interpreted through conation (Trieb). This Trieb remains, how-
ever, as overtone and as a help in apperception of the object,
thought of as independent, which we judge in feeling. If we
make the object dependent upon us, so that we perceive it as re-
tained or excluded, then we experience conation and impulse
but not, properly speaking, a feeling." l Now, to make the ob-
ject dependent upon us is to assume its existence or non-exist-
ence, as the case may be, that assumption being motived by
the subjective control of the disposition presupposed. To think
it as independent of us (which according to Miinsterberg's anal-
ysis, we do when we feel rather than desire) is to judge or as-
sume its existence or non-existence, the motivation of the cog-
nitive act being, in this case, a control of a more objective origin
and character. The significance of this analysis is to be found
in the fact that the distinction between feeling and will (conation)
is one which, in the last analysis, is reducible to a difference in
the immediate functional meaning of a germ content and that,
when this meaning is retrospectively described, such description
involves recourse to cognitive presuppositions.

1 Grundziige der Psychologic, p. 360.

312 WILBUR M. URBAN.

There can be no doubt, however, that this difference in im-
mediate functional meaning, though retrospectively describable
only in terms of cognitive attitude, is really implicitly present
prior to explicit cognitive acts of judgment and assumption,
below the level of worth experience — that this duality has its
germs in the simplest types of organic accommodation and habit.
The * dependence upon ' or * independence of ' subjective
control, which on the higher level is explicitly cognized in acts
of judgment and assumption, is implicitly felt in the funda-
mental attitudes of habit, and accommodation after disturbance
of habit. If we view in this more external way such a vital ac-
commodative series as that described by Brentano, we find that
what distinguishes the phases which are predominantly affective
from those predominantly conative is the degree of inhibition
of a presupposed disposition or tendency. Whether we call the
phase in question feeling or will depends upon the point in the
process of accommodation in which we, so to speak, catch the
experience. In the Brentano series the first stages are char-
acterized by the apprehension of the object as relatively inde-
pendent of the subject (in this case the apprehension is judg-
mental)— and in introspection they are interpreted as feeling.
In the later stages, the object is apprehended as more and more
dependent, until in the last phases, the belief or judgment
that it will be accomplished enters, and voluntary decision has
been reached. Likewise, when Wundt describes the relation
in the statement that * feeling may just as well be looked upon
as the beginning of a conative process, as on the other hand,
will may be conceived as a complex feeling process, and that
the affect is a transition between both,' he is distinguishing dif-
ferent phases of one accommodative process.

(V) With this conception of the nature of the fundamental
duality in meaning of feeling (as passive), and desire, volition
(as active), we are in a position to justify our definition and
analysis of worth experience. Feeling and desire are differ-
ences of genetic mode, relative differences of functional mean-
ing, not of content. The worth of an object is therefore its
affective volitional meaning, and is given in feeling attitudes in
which there is always reference, transgredient or immanental,

NATURE OF FEELING AND WILL. 313

to conation. We describe the worth fundamental as feeling, or
concrete affect, because pure passive affect and purely active
conation are limiting terms in the series and really exist merely
as abstractions. But the affective-volitional meaning, or worth,
of an object, namely — its relation to desire and conative dis-
position as interpreted through feeling — becomes explicit only
on the cognitive level where accommodation is in the form of
cognitive acts of presumption, assumption and judgment. It is
the actualization of the dispositional tendency, either in feeling
or desire, through these cognitive acts, which gives to the
feeling or desire that meaning which we described as worth.1

This leads us finally to the question of the relation between
feeling and will, of affective- volitional determination in worth
experience. We have seen from our critical analysis that no
thorough-going relation of antecedent and consequent can be
established between feeling and conation when conceived as
two ultimate content qualities. The only sense in which feeling
may be said to condition desire, or desire feeling, is that feeling
always presupposes conative tendency and desire feeling dispo-
sition. The disposition is the significant concept in our defini-
tion. The feeling and desire dispositions are one and the same
conative tendency and whether, when actualized, the disposition
will give rise to feeling or desire depends upon the cognitive acts
through which the object is brought into relation with the dis-
position, these cognitive acts representing accommodations after
inhibition of habit.

The manner in which feeling is presupposed in all phases of
experience described as desire, and conation is presupposed in
all phases described as feeling, is well expressed in the second
portion of Miinsterberg's analysis already given.2 In feeling
the conation (Trieb) is present with the perception as * overtone '

1 Cf. definition of feeling of Value in papers already referred to.

2 Miinsterberg develops this point more fully in another passage in the same
chapter : "Im Trieb ist die Wahrnemung des Gegenwartigen nur ein mitklin-
gendes secundares Element des Gesamten Inhalts, der sich auf die Zukunft
bezieht, im Gefiihl, dagegen, ist der triebmassige, auf die Zukunft bezogene
Empfindungecomplex nur ein farbunggebender Nebenfaktor der Wahrneh-
mung. Das Gefiihl ist ein Trieb im Dienste der Wahrnehmung, wahrend im
reinen Trieb die Wahrnehmung sich dem Streben uuterordnet."

p. 361.)

3H WILBUR M. URBAN.

as part of the meaning, as means of interpreting the situation.
With equal right it may be said that in the predominantly pas-
sive experience which we call feeling, conation is present (in the
transgredient and immanental references) as overtone, as part
of the meaning of the feeling. The various modes of this
meaning we have already analyzed in the earlier articles.
The importance of this entire conception lies in the fact that it
disposes of that complete distinction between feeling as passive
and conation as active which, when made absolute, leads to the
dualistic conceptions already criticised and to inadequate con-
ceptions of worth determination. It enables us to look upon the
relatively pure feeling and will as limiting concepts and to in-
clude all worth experience, even the aesthetic, under our general
definition of affective-volitional meaning.

In conclusion it may be pointed out that in this conception
of the nature of feeling and will and of their relations we have
a psychological basis for the study of the laws of valuation.
The concrete laws of valuation are not reducible to general laws
of feeling, abstracted from conation, nor of desire abstracted
from feeling, but rather of affective-volitional process conceived
as a whole. If we apply the term interest, employed by Stout
in the connection already referred to, to designate conative
process in its two-fold aspect, we may quite properly speak
of these laws as laws of interest, laws of acquirement of affec-
tive-volitional meaning.1

]The MS. of this article was received in September, 1906. — ED.

A FOURTH PROGRESSION IN THE RELATION OF
MIND AND BODY.

BY R. W. SELLARS,
University of Michigan.

If all signs fail not, the valiant inconclusiveness of philos-
ophy is giving way. No doubt the lists are still crowded and
battle cries resound but there seems to be, withal, a new eager-
ness as of hope long deferred coming to pass. It is, then, nat-
ural, to enquire to what this is due. If a squire who has his
spurs yet to win, may venture an answer, it is, * To science,
especially to psychology.' Now this is not spoken to encourage
that lusty youngster, for he needs none, his boisterousness and
self-assurance being, the rather, a cause of anxiety to the poor
metaphysician who, at times, harbors the suspicion that he is
pitied by this one of his household as a grey dotard. Be that
as it may, the rejuvenation of logic which promises so much,
in the way of a clarifying of our categories, appears to be the
result of the stimulus of social intercourse with psychology and
scientific methodology. (Cf. Baldwin's Thought and Things
which Angell describes as ' a striking example of functional
psychology evolving into logic.' The Studies in Logical Theory
might be spoken of in similar terms.)

With this as a sort of philosophical palinode, giving due
notice of my peaceful intentions, may I advance a criticism of
some recent tendencies by way of orientation? I shall put it
in the form of a question. May not function win out at the
expense of structure through the erection of a false antithesis
between them? Reconstruction, change, experimentation, all
these are of great importance and deserve the recognition they
are receiving, at last, but organization is just as real. " Our ex-
perience is constantly undergoing modification ; there are no
final truths." Yes, certainly ; but our experience is not a flux.
We build up vast constructs whose complexity only the scientist
(taking science in the sense of Wissenschaft) can realize. Of

316 R. W. SELLARS.

course, I would protest against the imputation to myself of a
radical misunderstanding of pragmatism, such as witnessed to
in Joachim's essay on the Nature of Truth. Yet, must not the
functionalist and, with him, the pragmatist widen the scope of
their outlook to history and sociology and behold the slowness
of this reconstruction in many important phases of human life?
I am inclined to maintain that each individual's experience is a
microcosm in the making (at least, this is its transcendental
idea, as Kant would phrase it) and that advance is not linear
but a complex process of development, working through organ-
ization. (Cf. Stout, Analytic Psychology, Vol. II.) That this
is not contrary to functional views is evident from the following.
" Functions, on the other hand, persist as well in mental as in
physical life. We may never have twice exactly the same idea
viewed from the side of sensuous structure and composition.
But there seems nothing whatever to prevent our having, as
often as we will, contents of consciousness which mean the
same thing." (Angell, this REVIEW, March, 1907.)

Howbeit it is not my intention to engage in general criticisms
or commendations, which would be as valueless as uncalled for,
but to re-analyze a problem which lies on the border between psy-
chology and metaphysics and which, therefore, is of peculiar
interest to both. To attack this Gordian knot may argue to
some undue temerity or the breezy rashness of the novice but,
perchance, it may keep the World-Mephistophiles engaged
while a wiser spirit outflanks him. My earnest conviction is
that here is the point where reality is exposed, as it were. Were
I to need further defense, a recent utterance of a leading psy-
chologist would suffice. " No courageous psychology of voli-
tion is possible which does not squarely face the mind-body
problem and in point of fact every important description of
mental life contains doctrine of one kind or another upon this
matter." (Professor Angell, ibid.)

In his brief reference to the problem, Professor Angell makes
such a good analysis of the manner of approach adopted by
recent writers that I cannot do better than quote. " The position
to which I refer regards the mind-body relation as capable of
treatment in psychology as a methodological distinction rather

RELA TION OF MIND AND BODY. 317

than a metaphysically existential one. Certain of its expounders
arrive at their view by means of an analysis of the genetic con-
ditions under which the mind-body differentiation first makes
itself felt in the experience of the individual (Baldwin). This
procedure clearly involves a direct frontal attack on the problem.
Others attain the position by flank movement emphasizing, to
begin with, the insoluble contradictions with which one is met
when the distinction is treated as resting on existential differences
in the primordial elements in the Cosmos." Thus, considerable
unanimity has been developing of late years in regard to the
methodological character of the theories of physiology and psy-
chology in respect to this relation. " Our task in discussing
their relation is not to transcend a given dualism, but to get rid of
one which we have manufactured for ourselves by the manipula-
tion of experience in the interest of certain special scientific prob-
lems. Hence, as Miinsterberg well puts it, we have not to find
the connection which subsists as an actual fact, between body and
soul, but to invent a connection in keeping with the general scheme
of our artificial physical and psychological hypotheses." (Tay-
lor, Elements of Metaphysics, p. 315.) Wundt gives an admir-
able statement of his own position in his Ethics and, since it is to
defend himself against misunderstanding, may be regarded as
authoritative. " Mechanical causality is thus a subordinate form
of psychical causality. But in the case of all empirical relations,
where psychical processes may be regarded from an external
point of view, these processes may either be assigned to the
complex of psychical events by virtue of their immediate char-
acteristics or may be ranked within the causal nexus of mechan-
ical processes by virtue of their external sensible aspect."
(Wundt, Ethics, Vol. III., pp. 44, note, and 51.) " The psychi-
cal and the physical are incompatible only because we have made
them so in the development of our scientific description of the uni-
verse. The distinction is a functional one, instrumental to the
practical ends represented in their methodological demands."
(H. Heath Bawden, Philosophical Review, 1903, pp. 315-16.)
With such agreement, one is, at first, inclined to wonder why the
problem still remains. Why do some thinkers hold still to inter-
action, while others vow allegiance to parallelism? Angell de-

318 R. W. SELLARS.

cidedly hankers after some kind of interaction as he must, per-
force, since he holds that the mind mediates between the environ-
ment and the needs of the organism. As he expresses it : "This
is the psychology of the fundamental utilities of consciousness."
(Cf. also, his Psychology > Ch. III.) On the other hand, Professor
Baldwin advocates parallelism, yet insists on a psycho-physical
evolution since he, too, holds consciousness to be no negligible
factor. (Cf. Development and Evolution , Ch. I.) There must be
some ghost here which will not down and, since metaphysicians
are supposed to prowl about in weird and unseemly realms and
delight in unsolvable problems, this must furnish a situation
peculiarly inviting. My endeavor will be, then, to consider Bald-
win's presentation in the light of recent definitions of the physical
and psychical. I hope to give reasons for a fourth progression
and to deduce some interesting conclusions therefrom.

According to Baldwin (this journal, 1903), there are three
* progressions' : (i) the * projective progression ' which reads
projects become personal-pr. and thing-pr. ; (2) the * subjective
progression ' which reads personal-pr. become subject-self and
object-self ; and (3) the ' ejective progression ' which reads
object-self become mind and body — the last alone representing
complete dualism of body and mind. " We find that to think
of body as presentation is in accordance with progression (3)
to think other minds with it as presentation and this involves by
progression (2) thinking of one's own mind as presentation. In
other words, it is impossible on this hypothesis to take any
other than a purely fhenomenalistic or presentational view of
both sorts of objects, body and mind. The procedure which
involves treating other minds as objective phenomena and,
at the same time, maintaining the psychic point of view with
reference to one's own mind is illegitimate." (Ibid.^ p. 230.)
"It is only in the one case of the relation of one mind to one
body and that its own that such a point of view is still held. In
the theory of interaction the attempt is made to justify this
remaining case." (P. 239. Read context.) Here is where
Baldwin is untrue to the genetic position he otherwise so well
sustains. He does not go far enough. On the other hand, the
psychologist when holding to some form of interaction is seeking

RELA TION OF MIND AND BODY. 319

to adopt a fourth progression which he sees only vaguely. He
is really trying to escape from the physical world considered as
a closed universe, a construction which as Wundt among others
has pointed out is untenable. " In consequence, our experi-
ence of the constancy of objects has crystallized into the notion
of matter as an absolutely permanent substrate of phenomena.
It is a concept purely hypothetical in character, but it has proved
very useful in the establishment of further principles ; and it is,
in particular, the foundation of all those laws of constancy
referred to above as giving to natural causality its peculiar
feature." (Ethics, p. 45.) The very nature of the postulates
involves, a closed system. But, if the physical and the psychical
are merely instrumental distinctions in experience, as modern
logic seems to show, this cosmic character of the physical can-
not be accepted. To resume : in the third progression, the
object-self is looked upon as M' IB. This is read back into
ourselves "because the theory requires that the view reached
should cover the case of the relation of another person's mind to
his body and that would mean his mind presented as object to
an onlooker in the same sense that his body is ^presented as ob-
ject" (Ibid., p. 232.) Baldwin's analysis here is excellent.
Now, what occurs when we move from the psychological
point of view, as this undoubtedly is, to the psychic? (Cf.
Baldwin's Diet, of Philos., sub verbo.) Do we advance to a
higher point of view, genetically speaking, or retrogress? I
am strongly inclined to maintain that a new progression is the
consequence of such a changed standpoint, and I would desig-
nate it the progression of * duplication.' Each individual is now
put on the same basis and regarded as having a unique psychic
life. " The only states of consciousness that we naturally deal
with are found in personal consciousnesses, minds, selves, con-
crete particular Fs and You's. Each of these minds keeps its
own thoughts to itself. There is no giving or bartering between
them. No thought even comes into direct sight of a thought in
another personal consciousness than its own. Absolute insula-
tion, irreducible pluralism, is the law. It seems as if the ele-
mentary psychic fact were not thought or this thought or that
thought but my thought, every thought being owned. * * The

320 P. W. SELLARS.

breaches between such thoughts are the most absolute breaches
in nature." (James, Principles of Psychology , Vol. I., p. 226.)
I advise careful study of these pages. We hear too much of
experience-in-general without mention of the owner. If this be
the change that overtakes M' of progression (3) how must B be
affected by it since the terms must be on the same level. In the
third * progression ' B is my presentation, a part of my psychic
experience, just as M' is. With the advance to this new pro-
gression, B must be reinterpreted. If M' becomes unique,
must not the other also? To many ears, to advocate the as-
sumption of what corresponds to a psychic point of view with
regard to the body, may sound strange, but, before a too hasty
decision is reached, let us ask what it implies. Philosophers
have so long resided in a world of unincarnated sensations and
thoughts, acknowledging, only in their uninspired moments, the
facts of death and birth, that the mere suggestion of such an
attitude may be looked upon as sub-dignitate. The conventional
horror raised by the term * thing-in-itself ' has prevented a thor-
ough reinterpretation of it in the light of recent biological and
neurological facts. It is, however, noteworthy, that here, as
elsewhere, the heretic is to be found preventing stagnation.
Professor Strong has argued at considerable length that other
consciousnesses are ' things-in-themselves ' and James, in the
passage quoted, seems to support similar views ; at least, his
pluralism has, here, its raison d'etre. " Another man's mind,
then, is in the strict sense of the term, a non-empirical existence ;
something real yet inaccessible to my immediate knowledge ; as
much so as material or mental substance and differing from them
only in the nature of that which is inferred." (Strong, Why Mind
Has a Body, p. 216.) The criticism one is inclined to pass upon
Strong is that he did not approach his subject genetically and
logically. Genetic social psychology would have prevented his
famous theory of instinctive belief in other minds, and logic, his
panpsychism. There has been, as a consequence, an unfor-
tunate neglect of this valuable emphasis on the isolation of
minds. To return. Must not B (organism) drop out of my
experience in the same way that M' (mind) does? At present,
there seems to me no possibility of avoiding this conclusion if

RELATION OF MIND AND BODY. 321

our genetic postulate is not to be violated, that the two terms
must be on the same level. Let us cast about, nevertheless, for
corroboration.

It is not difficult to discover. That every individual's ex-
periencing is dependent on what we call his organism is a com-
mon-place of neurology and of pathology to-day. I could refer
to the researches of Kraepelin, Ellis, Flechsig and others, but
it would be a work of supererogation. Neurology not only has
proved cerebral localization, but has discovered that conscious-
ness arises only in a circuit of at least five neurones involving
the Golgi cell type II. (Cf. an article, Journal of Philosophy,
Psychology and Scientific Methods, where the present argument
was given in outline, Vol. IV., No. i.) Now, it would be ab-
surd to assert that another individual's consciousness is depend-
ent on B, my presentation ; at least, we do not usually credit
ourselves with creative power of this kind. From this side,
also, we are, accordingly, forced to admit that B passes out of
my experience, just as M' did. Moreover, B does not, then,
become part of the second individual's experience, else would
his experiencing depend on a presentation in his experience.
Strongest of all is, I think, an appeal to death. Upon the in-
dividual's demise, the body remains. These are trite facts but
their full significance has not, it seems to me, been recognized.

If these arguments are correct, a -peculiar form of Agnos-
ticism results which no one, to my knowledge, has developed.
It will be the further task of the remainder of the article to
accomplish this, and, in so doing, I hope to indicate the possible
solution to two very important problems : What is the individual ?
How can two minds know the same thing?

I stated that this position leads to a form of agnosticism ; I
might better have said it results in a reinterpretation of the
word, * know,' and I wish to develop this to avoid misunder-
standing. As is easily discernible, the thesis is purely natural-
istic in its implications and outlook and has no place for an un-
knowable of the Mansel-Spencer variety. We are limited to
our experience? Certainly; but who would wish to transcend
it? To those who have understood Hegel the very question is
meaningless. The real and vital question is what sort of ex-

322 R. W. SELLARS.

perience have we? In the first place, if my argument holds,
* reality* becomes a more inclusive term than ' experience,' exis-
tentially speaking. Once prove that the organism is more than
the individual's experience and you can't stop short of the other
objects in relation to the body. All metaphysicians seem to
admit this. The organism is in the same complex evolving
world the rocks and trees and air and waters are. The indi-
vidual's experience agrees with reality in the sense that it
mediates the individual's activity in relation to reality. It is as
a lamp unto his feet. It is adaptive. Of course, the accommo-
dation must not be limited to the so-called physical world ; the
environment is also social, but the social is sustained by the
physical, without it, the social could not be made perfect. And
here I may include pragmatism, giving it its due place in a meta-
physics. Thus Professor Dewey's view of agreement as equal-
ling success must be interpreted by subsumption under the cate-
gory of ' accommodation.' Our universe is a process including
organizations of various grades seeking adaptation. " You
cannot get a fixed and definite color sensation, for example,
without keeping perfectly constant the external and internal
conditions in which it appears. The particular sense quality is,
in short, functionally determined by the necessities of the exist-
ing situation which it emerges to meet." (Angell, this REVIEW,
March, 1907, p. 17.)

This doctrine, if granted, does, of course, give the death-
blow to na'ive realism. I do not know how Professor Angell
will relish the deduction of agnosticism from his thesis of the
utility of consciousness, but that it points in this direction seems
undeniable, though the word * know ' must be reinterpreted in
the light of the teleological nature of consciousness. We must
not demand a sort of knowledge that is impossible, even un-
thinkable, and then cry out about an < unknowable.' There is,
first, the selective character of our sense-organs to be reckoned
with. "To begin at the bottom, what are our very senses
themselves but organs of selection ? But of the infinite chaos
of movements, of which physics teaches us that the outer world
consists, each sense-organ picks out those which fall within cer-
tain limits of velocity. To these it responds, but ignores the

RELATION OF MIND AND BODY. 323

rest as completely as if they did not exist. * * * Attention, on
the other hand, out of all the sensations yielded, picks out cer-
tain ones as worthy of notice and suppresses all the rest. * * *
The mind selects again. It chooses certain of the sensations
to represent the thing most truly , and considers the rest as its
appearances, modified by the conditions of the moment."
(James, Psychology ', Vol. I., pp. 284-5.) Thus, to know how
things act and function is all that is necessary. You don't want
to intuit some mysterious essence. Naturally enough, as soon
as the absurdity of the old idea of * knowing ' is realized, one
will not need to use the term * agnostic.' To know about an
ionized solution is not to intuit some mysterious reality or have
a true idea of it, but to know how the ions behave. In short,
we can handle things-in-themselves ; we can tear them apart,
synthesize them, manipulate them in all sorts of ways, but can't
be them. Stout has well brought out the importance of this for
our knowledge of the world. " He may ideally analyze and
combine in a mechanical way what he cannot actually take to
pieces and put together again. He may even assume constit-
uent elements which are beyond the reach of actual perception.
* * Modern theories of atoms and molecules and of the
motions of the particles of ether are examples of the highest
development attained in this direction." (Stout, Manual of
Psychology, pp. 505 ff.) Electricity, which is becoming so
omnipresent, playing an important role in electro-chemistry,
physical chemistry and biology, is not something to be copied.
We desire only to know how it acts under certain definite con-
ditions. It is only in the case of other individuals of like nature
with ourselves that we can speak of knowing, in the sense of
content, for we are in the same stage of evolutionary organiza-
tion. Our agnosticism in comparative psychology in regard to
the experience of the ant or fish should be instructive. As I
said in a former article, ' epistemology must reckon with evolu-
tion, for, only thus, can it explain common knowledge by simi-
larity of organization and relationships.'

We have answered, then, tentatively at least, and, by impli-
cation, the first question, What is an individual? Our con-
clusion is naturalistic, but not materialistic, since matter has

324 R. W. SELLARS.

disappeared and left process. Everything points to the belief
that conscious-experience is a functional part and expression of
this individual in its selective relations to other individuals of
various degrees of organization. Of course, when the grade of
organization is very low we do not use the term * individual.'
We confine it to molar masses usually, though science has a
perfect right to extend its application. This position agrees
with the results of evolutionary science, satisfying its prime
postulate, continuity, and is monistic. This monism grants, how-
ever, James* -pluralism. As I said in the former article, * dif-
ferent individuals cannot have experiences, in any sense, nu-
merically identical.' Moreover, I do not perceive the need of
any world soul or absolute to bind them together. The con-
nection which makes this a universe comes through the organism
and its responsibility to its surroundings, and, here again, it is
a relation of functioning, a dynamic unity, with free interplay
of parts. The higher the grade of organization the greater the
independence ; it is, thus, a freedom which is natural to the
universe, and which is lawful. This will give a hint of the
bearing of this hypothesis on ethics.

There is reason, moreover, to believe that the mind-body
difficulty in methodology will gradually solve itself as biology
and psychology determine more the categories of our thinking.
Body and mind will grow into one another. Habit seems to
offer, at present, some prospect of a mediating factor, for has
it not been called, rightly enough, the pragmatist's thing-in-
itself ? Consciousness was looked upon as mysterious under the
tyrannic reign of the exact sciences, with their impersonal and
dualistic outlook, but it will secure its rights under a broader
and truer naturalism. Organization is the scientists substitute
for secondary qualities and is coming to its own. This offers
a way of escape from the merely quantitative. This may be
seen, in chemistry, in the study of color compounds, in the so-
called stereochemistry, in recent physics, in the examination of
radium, uranium and actinium. Physics is, thus, becoming
evolutionary and cannot escape quality in some form or other.

The answer to the second question follows logically. The
identity involved in the common object must be interpreted

RELATION OF MIND AND BODY. 325

functionally, i. e., * similar organizations in similar relations
will have like experiences * and will gradually come to recog-
nize this likeness. This likeness can only be relative since indi-
viduals differ and cannot get into exactly the same relations.
Genetic psychology will trace out the process. This is a very
simple solution, I may be told, but that is a merit.

But, I shall be asked with some indignation, do you assume
space to be actual apart from the individual's experience? Not
space as an entity or as a form, I reply; still, I believe things
to be mutually exclusive and in dynamic relation to one another.
If, perchance, Kant's old dilemma be brought forward, as vet-
erans usually are, viz., — if space is real how can mathematics
hold? Hence, space must be transcendentally ideal though
empirically real — I shall reply, it may be both transcen-
dentally real and empirically real. Let me explain what I
mean indirectly. In a recent article, Stout advances the thesis
that primary qualities are actually more real than secondary.
He is rather vague and does not succeed in proving his
point. Incidentally, however, he makes a statement that fits
in with the position I have advanced, that we can handle
things-in-themselves and tear them apart. " Finally, how can
the internal content of a solid be resolved into any possible
series of sensory presentations. Slice it as you will, you only
disclose surfaces, not solid content but only the boundaries of
solid content." (Aristotelian Society's Proceedings, 1903-4, p.
156.) Now, if the organism is, in the sense defined, a thing-in-
itself and consciousness adapts it in its relations, we would ex-
pect some mechanism to enable consciousness to shadow forth
these relations. I suggest that Flechsig's theory of the two great
silent areas, frontal and parietal, which are whirlpools of asso-
ciation, the theory of local signs and cerebral localization for
the parts of the body will solve this problem. There appears
to be a sort of correspondence between the nervous system and
the organism and its environment by means of the distance-
receptors which tallies with the correspondence between con-
sciousness and reality. The dominance of the distance-receptors
of the head is very important in this connection. (Cf . Sherring-
ton, Integrative Action of the Nervous System, Ch. IX.) The

326 R. W. SELLARS.

experience of the individual is, accordingly, a * microcosm in
idea ' focalizing itself in special situations to meet the exigencies
of the organism in relation to the macrocosm of reality. Real-
ity bends back upon itself by means of the brain whose terrific
complexity few realize.

If this mirroring in consciousness by space of the dynamic
relations of reality is a valid conclusion, we must not forget that
our space is usually of two dimensions. We are seldom concerned
with space above our heads or below our feet. The universe as
a -process must not, however, be interpreted in this fashion as a
going forward as we go forward. That would be too anthro-
pomorphic. It is a stereometrical process in which various
organizations and systems of organizations beyond our con-
ception are equilibrated, or are mutually conflicting and
adapting. As a consequence, the dynamic relations of reality
which stereometry shadows forth in a too passive way,
because conceptual, appear to me more universal than time re-
lations. Time strikes one as more personal than space. We
always tend to look upon time as a linear process, a stream
with a direction, the past-present-future flow. Accordingly,
the statement that the universe is a process involves, for
many minds, the flux-view or else some t far off divine event.
Hold to this dynamic, stereometrical view of process as primary
and all that is avoided. But, if space has an infinite number
of dimensions, may it not have an infinite number of directions
also? At least two possibilities, therefore, seem to be open.
Time must be interpreted stereometrically, or it cannot be ap-
plied to the universe as a process. Without developing this
into its intricacies, this much can be said, that each irreversible
' process-system ' has a time. Our solar system is an example
of this. Each conscious individual, also, has his time series
which he fits into the larger series. We have, then, perceptual,
conceptual and common time.

It would be impossible in an exposition of this nature to
•justify my thesis in detail, nor shall I attempt it. Contrast and
comparison with some current teachings may serve, however,
to give its general trend. " What, then, is needed, I think, is
a complete renovation of our ontological conceptions of mind

RELATION OF MIND AND BODY.

and matter in terms of a functional psychology of experience."
(H. Heath Bawden, Philosophical Review, 1903, p. 311.) This
seems clear enough and most of us, I presume, would second
the statement but when we find the term * experience ' used con-
tinually in a vaguely impersonal way, we are disposed to ask —
Whose experience? Must not * experience ' be conscious ex-
perience and, if we throw some hypothetical world-soul out of
the reckoning, somebody's experience? If this were accepted,
I would modify Dewey's doctrine of * Immediate Empiricism,'
in accordance with it. " Immediate empiricism postulates that
things — anything, everything, in the ordinary or non-technical
use of the term * thing* — are what they are experienced as."
(Journal of Philosophy, etc., Vol. II., p. 393.) I would restate
this after the following fashion — In an individual's experience
things are what they are experienced as. This would save the
position from the strange reductio ad absurdum of ' Reality as
Experience.' For me, truth, experience, and reality are terms
with different meanings, although, of course, experience is real.

A recent movement, seeking to reinstate realism, seems to
confuse logic and metaphysics. Personally, I do not under-
stand how a functional psychologist, or one acquainted with
Berkeley and Kant, could be a na'ive realist. The view pre-
sented here, is of the critical sort. "I shall, accordingly, use
the word consciousness, to mean experience that is essentially
the private and unsharable experience of one person and I shall
conceive such experience which for each one of us is a certain
streaming of objects of the private type as contrasted with objects
that are public and directly observable by anyone so far as their
own nature is concerned. * * * " (Bush, Journal of Philoso-
phy, etc., Vol. II., p. 567.) Now this is, to me, a logical dis-
tinction more clearly worked out by Baldwin in his Genetic
Logic. (See pp. 146-8.) We are here engaged with distinctions
in the social-individual's experience and, thus, the soi-disant
realists are working out the side of organization neglected by
the pragmatists.

I have confined myself as closely as possible to psychology
and logic. If the progression of duplication holds good, certain
hypotheses might be propounded which would lead us farther

328 R. W. SELLARS.

into metaphysics and science. We are in a world greater than
ourselves and each must say, * De Profundis.'

1 ' Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep,
When all that was to be, in all that was,
Whirled for a million aeons, thro' the vast
Waste dawn of multitudinous eddying light — "

Yet, the reverse is, also, to be pondered — " Does Charidas in
truth sleep beneath thee? If thou meanest the son of Aremmas
of Cyrene, beneath me. O, Charidas, what of the underworld?
Great darkness. And what of the resurrection? A lie. And
Pluto? A fable, we perish utterly." (By Callemachus, Antho
logia Palatina^ 7, 524.)1

JThe MS. of this article was received May 26, 1907. — ED.

SENSORY AFFECTION AND EMOTION.

BY HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY,
Phrapaioom, Siam.

So influential a voice as that of Stumpf raised in favor of
what has been long considered a lost cause in the psychological
world, encourages me to make the admission that for a number
of years I too have regarded the cause as far from lost, and to
add my mite to the discussion. I feel different about doing so
because I am writing in a remote corner of the earth where I
have no library facilities, and only a few of the leading current
periodicals, which reach me irregularly and whose files extend
back but a year or two. If, therefore, even my mite of a con-
tribution proves to be no contribution at all, but a mere repeti-
tion, I must beg for leniency. In any case I am well aware
that I have nothing startlingly new to add. My only expec-
tation was to bring together some of the recent discussions of the
problem of affective processes in a somewhat new way.

The paper which prompted this one is entitled ' Ueber
Gemiithsempfindungen,' and appeared in the Zeitschrift fur
Psychologie^ I. Abt., Bd. 44, s. I. For the benefit of those who
may not have Stumpf s discussion freshly in mind, I will give a
brief summary of it. I wish to make it a starting point for
what I have to say.

Stumpfs thesis is in general that the sensory affections are
themselves another class of sensations, coordinate with those al-
ready recognized. There are two other views which have been
held, one that sensory affections are mere attributes of sensa-
tion, and the other that they are elements of consciousness of a
different order from sensations. The first view he considers
sufficiently refuted by Kiilpe's well-known arguments on the
subject. The second rests chiefly on three distinctions between
sensation and affection, (a) that sensory affections seem to be-
long in the same class with emotions in that both are pleasurable
or painful, and since emotions are not sensations therefore no

329

33° HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.

member of the same class can be ; (b) that affections are sub-
jective whereas sensations are objective ; and (c) that affections
lack the spatial extension and localization which many sensa-
tions possess. As Stumpf points out, (a) has no force for a fol-
lower of the James-Lange theory of the emotions, but he is not
an adherent of the theory. For him, too, however, the argu-
ment is invalid because he believes that the classification of
sensory affections and emotions in the same category is not
justified. The emotions proper are, in his opinion, distinguished
by a peculiar " kernel " which is distinct from the muscular and
organic accompaniments, and which is entirely lacking in pure
sensory affection. The distinction on the basis of subjectivity,
(b) Stumpf considers unsatisfactory because not verified by or-
dinary introspection. The * plain man ' does not regard pain as
subjective in any other sense than some other sensations. He
is entirely ready to admit that the sweetness of an object con-
sists merely in the way it tastes to him, just as the painfulness
of another object consists in the way it affects him. Further-
more, it is not always true that sensations give information
about the external world. There is a whole class of well rec-
ognized sensations, muscular sensations from the internal
organs, which tell us only of the condition of the body itself.
Finally, the distinction between the ego and the external world
rests upon a complex mass of experience and cannot logically
be made the basis for a distinction between classes of elements
of conscious experience. The third argument, (c) is easily dis-
posed of since it contradicts verifiable facts. Pain and certain
kinds of pleasantness and unpleasantness undoubtedly have
both volume and localization as definite as that of many well
recognized sensations. Since, then, none of the arguments in
favor of making affective experiences a separate class of ele-
ments holds, Stumpf regards it as logical to consider them
sensations.

The remainder of the paper is divided into three portions,
a discussion of (i) pain sensations and the pleasure sensations
arising in the skin and vegetative organs ; (2) the affective tone
of the higher senses, and (3) applications.

i. Stumpf of course discards the view that the sense quality

SEWS OR Y A FFE C TION AND EMO TION. 33 1

of pain is a pricking sensation to which is united an affective
element of intense disagreeableness. It seems to him that only
a theoretical prejudice in favor of separate affective elements
has led to this view. The painfulness of a pain sensation is
itself its sense quality. " Pain is simply painful. The most
discriminative psychology cannot change that." If one talks
of agreeable pain sensations, he can only mean a state in which
pain and pleasure sensations coexist. Although Stumpf does
not stop to call attention to the fact, this statement reveals his
opinion of another of the distinctions frequently drawn between
sensation and affection — that there can be but one affection
at a time in consciousness whereas there may be many sensa-
tions. Stumpf, like Royce and Calkins, evidently does not think
the statement introspectively correct. Of course if pleasure and
pain are sensations, there is no more reason why they should
not coexist than there is why one's face should not be warm
and his hands cold at the same time. Very conclusive evidence
for the fact that pain is a separate sensation has recently been
furnished by the experiments of Von Frey, who succeeded in
isolating pain sensations by peripheral stimulation. The exist-
ence of delayed pain, both under pathological conditions, and
normally after certain stimuli such as a needle prick, has long
been known and is additional evidence of its sensory nature.

Though we have made no approach to a similar isolation of
pleasure sensations, Stumpf believes that we have examples of
them in the tickling and itching sensations of the skin, and in
the sense of bodily well-being. Whether these sensations are
due to the stimulation of pleasure nerves, corresponding to the
pain nerves, he leaves an open question. Their assumption he
does not regard as necessary to the theory. Certain pleasant and
unpleasant experiences must be conditioned by purely central
activities, and it is possible that all pleasure is so conditioned.

The algedonic sensations leave behind them memory images
which bear the same relation to the original sensation as in the
other senses. Kiilpe believes that the important difference
between sensation and affection is that sensations can be repre-
sented in consciousness whereas affections can only be reinstated.
As we have seen, Stumpf questions the fact. He thinks it pos-

332 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.

sible to have a memory of a pain in the same sense that one has
of an odor, though the power to call up memory images is not
universal in either case, and images of algedonic sensations
easily pass over into hallucinations.

2. The feeling tone of the so-called higher senses he con-
siders under two headings, the case of excessive stimulation, and
that of moderate stimulation. The former is easily dealt with.
Excessive stimulation affects both the specific nerves and the
pain nerves. The fact is most evident in pressure and temper-
ature stimulations. It is in accounting for the feeling tone of
moderate stimulations, especially in the case of tones and colors,
that the difficulty comes in, a difficulty increased by the very
slight intensity of the affective experience. The theoretical
reasons for regarding the faint agreeable and disagreeable
experiences as accessory sensations are the same as in the case
of the more intense experiences. The greater difficulty in accept-
ing the theory is that it is hard for us to so much as imagine the
agreeableness of a tone or color in isolation from the given sensa-
tion. If it is merely an accessory sensation, it should be possible
with effort to form a separate image of it. Although Stumpf does
not feel sure that such an isolated image has ever been formed,
he thinks it not impossible that it should be. In the case of the
more intense algedonic tone which comes with color and tone
combinations, and with tastes and odors, some observers assert
that it is possible to form an image of the affective tone, quite
independently of the sensation to which it belongs.

3. Stumpf believes that this view of affection has the advan-
tage of offering a natural explanation of many facts which caused
difficulty to the old theory. The complete and partial analgesias
and hyperalgesias become cases of anesthesia or hyperesthesia.
The delayed pain sensations cease to be an anomaly. The
indifferent states cause no difficulty, and the independence of
affective tone from sense quality is easily accounted for. Futher-
more the facts known about sensation and the methods elabor-
ated for its investigation may now become applicable to sensory
affection. This formulation he also considers more helpful in
the attempt to give an account of the genesis, both individual
and racial, of sensory affection.

SENS OK Y AFFECTION AND EMO TION. 333

While I have long felt that regarding pleasure and pain in
their simplest terms as themselves sensations, leads to the most
satisfactory view of consciousness as a whole, I still think with
Stumpf that there are introspective difficulties in the way. To
my mind the greatest of them is in finding any experience of
pleasure which at all corresponds in definiteness and simplicity
with its supposed opposite pain. Stumpf suggests tickling and
itching sensations as the typical pleasurable experiences from
the skin, but itching is to most people a distinctly painful
experience, and tickling easily becomes so. The traditional
view of the two is that both are complexes of sensations. The
nearest approach to simple pleasurable experience from the skin
which I can find in my own case is the sensation arising from a
gentle rubbing with some soft surface. There is something
akin to a faint itching in this sensation, and it is perhaps what
Stumpf has in mind as the typical pleasurable skin sensation.

While granting the introspective difficulties, I still consider
the reasons for Stumpfs view as of far greater weight than
those against. The point at which I find myself at variance
with Stumpf, which is of course the one I wish to discuss
further, is that of the relation between the simple sensory affec-
tions and the emotions. The question is one which Stumpf dis-
tinctly shuts out from the present discussion, but he states his
belief that the emotions are quite a different type of experience
from the simple sensory affections, and that a sharp line should
be drawn between them. The grounds for this belief he has
published more in detail in a previous paper to which he refers,
and to which unfortunately I have no access here. However,,
he does in this paper state the point at which my view of the
emotions, and consequently of their relation to simple sensory
affections differs from his own. Stumpf does not believe that
the James-Lange theory of the emotions furnishes a correct
analysis of them. He holds that stripped of the various ac-
companying muscular and organic sensations, an emotion still
remains an emotion. There is in the emotion of fear a 'kernel*
of fearsomeness which is not destroyed when all the muscular
and organic sensations have been dissected away from it. To
me, and to all the adherents of the theory it seems equally

334 HELEN THOMPSON WOOL LEY.

plain that the emotional aspect of the experience does indeed
consist in the mass of muscular and organic sensations. They
seem to be an integral part of the emotion without which it
would cease to be an emotion at all. In such a deadlock of in-
trospective analysis, argument seems to be of little avail. What
I wish to do is first to state a little more fully the view of the
relation between emotion and simple sensory affection which
seems rational to one who holds that Stumpf has established his
thesis with regard to simple sensory affection, but who also
holds to the James-Lange account of the emotions ; and second
to point out the general conclusion with regard to the nature of
consciousness as a whole which seems to follow.

To one who combines these two points of view the relation
between sensory affection and emotion is merely that between
a simple and a complex state of the same type. As I under-
stand Stumpfs analysis, the composition of a simple sensory
affection, such as a pleasant sweetness, is the two sensations
sweet and pleasant. The total state of consciousness may be,
and probably is, much more complex than this, but none of the
other simultaneous constituents are to be considered as integral
parts of the simple sensory affection. Just how he conceives
the emotional * kernel ' I do not know, but evidently the stuff of
which it is made up is something other than sensation. He
would, I suppose, analyze an emotion into a central cognitive
content, the emotional kernel, and as an adjunct, a mass of
muscular and organic sensations. To which of these constitu-
ents he would assign the pleasantness or unpleasantness of an
emotion, I do not know. If it belongs to the emotional kernel,
and is accordingly non-sensational, it is hard to account for the
common factor between this class of algedonic experiences and
the simple sensory affections. If it is one of the accompanying
sensations, it is non-essential to the emotion itself — a view quite
opposed to all accepted doctrines.

But pointing out the difficulties in a theory which I do not
myself thoroughly understand is probably only displaying my
ignorance. Let me turn to the aspect of the question in which
I feel more confident, the advantages of the alternative view.
According to that view there is no sharp dividing line between

SENS OR Y A FFE C TION AND EMO TION. 335

simple sensory affections and emotions. The simplest con-
ceivable case of a sensory affection, in the usual acceptation of
the term, is a pain sensation without organic or muscular ac-
companiments. It possesses but one quality and that is pain-
fulness. The next simplest case is a state consisting of some
other sensation, for instance, temperature, accompanied by an
algedonic sensation as secondary. Beyond this there seems to
be an unbroken series of increasing complexity occasioned by
the addition of various organic and muscular sensations as sec-
ondary, and by increasing complexity in the central perceptual
or ideational content, which ends only with the most complex
emotion. If then we analyze any simple sensory affect or emo-
tion, leaving aside those simplest limiting cases which exist
rather as logical limits than as actual states, we find the same
constituents — a presentational or representational central con-
tent with an accompanying mass of sensations in which pleas-
antness or unpleasantness and muscular and organic sensations
are prominent. When the central content is largely represen-
tational, and the accompanying mass of sensations is complex
and intense, we call the experience an emotion ; when the cen-
tral content is presentational, and the mass of accompanying
sensations not very complex, we call the experience a sensory
affection. The decreased complexity is usually due to the lesser
number of muscular and organic sensations.

Within this series of experiences -there are many on the
border line between sensory affection and emotion which might
equally well be classed with either one. Consider, for instance,
the state occasioned by a sudden, unexpected, loud sound. As
a very unpleasant sensory experience one would feel inclined
to call it a sensory affection, but in this case there are present
a sufficient number of muscular and organic sensations to give
it an emotional tone. A friend who is peculiarly susceptible to
colors can never describe the experiences they give her without
telling of the cold shivers that run up and down her back. In
such cases shall we call the state an intense sensory affection
or a slight emotion? To me it seems immaterial. In fact, in
most cases of sensory affection, careful observation reveals the
presence of muscular and organic sensations which seem to me

336 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.

to play their part in determining what we call the affective tone
of the experience.

The question is closely bound up with that of the number of
distinguishable affective qualities — a question which is of course
not decided by regarding pleasure and pain as sensations. The
algedonic sense may be, like the temperature sense, one which
possesses but two opposed qualities, or it may possess two op-
posed classes of qualities, though the latter conception offers
logical difficulties which I shall not stop to discuss further.

Stumpf recognizes the possibility that the apparent differ-
ences between the various kinds of sensory pains may be con-
stituted by differences in the groups of organic and muscular
sensations accompanying them, together with variations in the
intensity and extensity of the pain sensations themselves, but he
finds this explanation unsatisfactory in the case of the higher
senses. It seems to him impossible to regard the unpleasant-
ness of a bad odor or of a discord as having the same quality
as a pure pain sensation. Most psychologists admit that even in
the states usually classified as simple sensory affection there are
present a certain number of muscular and organic sensations
as well as the characteristic quality, and the algedonic factor.
Many go even further and admit that this group of sensations
plays an important part in determining the general tone of the
state of consciousness. Angell in his new psychology (p. 331)
says, * All consciousness, to be sure, seems to be toned more or
less by the sensory reactions which arise from the constant over-
flow of neural excitement into the muscles, and in so far every
psychosis has an element of emotion in it.' But they are all
unwilling to admit that this mass of sensations plays a part in
determining the affective tone of consciousness. That they re-
gard as a pleasantness or unpleasantness which must be a single
simple factor. To make the case concrete — an intense sour
sensation is usually unpleasant and is usually accompanied by
distinct sensations of muscular contraction from the muscles and
glands behind the jaws. The question is, would what we
ordinarily call the unpleasantness of a sour taste be the same
unpleasantness without these muscular sensations? To me it
seems not. In other words the affective tone in this case seems

SENSORY AFFECTION AND EMOTION. 337

to me not simple but complex. The feat of isolating the mere
unpleasant sensation from the invariable muscular portion of
the experience is a very difficult piece of introspection and one
which we are not often called upon to perform. The unpleas-
antness and the muscular sensations form a unified group, and
it seems to me clear that it is this group which we mean in or-
dinary language when we talk about the unpleasantness of a
sour taste and insist that it is different from other kinds of un-
pleasantness. This is merely to apply the James-Lange theory
of the emotions to sensory affections as well. The affective tone,
then, of a sensory affection is usually not a totally unanalyzable
portion of consciousness, just as the emotional tone of an emotion
is not. In the cases where there is least complexity there seems
to be no difficulty in identifying the unpleasantness with the
quality of a pain sensation. For instance, an intense but local-
ized temperature sensation is accompanied by an unpleasantness
which is readily recognized as of the same quality as isolated
pain. In such an experience as a discord or an unpleasant color
combination the unpleasantness is much less intense and the
muscular sensations much more prominent. The unpleasant
odor nauseates us and the discord sets our teeth on edge and
makes our flesh creep. Here the identification is very difficult
and to many seems impossible. The final appeal is to intro-
spection and an introspection which is most difficult. One is in
danger of being unduly influenced by the alluring simplicity of
the view which recognizes but a single quality of pain or pleas-
ure. Now I do not pretend to be able to analyze completely
that which we call the affective tone of an experience. More-
over, as I shall explain later, I believe this disability to be in-
herent in the nature of the case. Nor am I able to isolate in-
trospectively the mere unpleasant factor of a bad odor and of a
discord and assert that they are of the same quality as pain.
But it does seem to me quite evident that what we ordinarily
call the unpleasantness of these two experiences is in both cases
a complex, and that it is at least very possible that if we could
isolate the mere sensation of unpleasantness from the more or
less vague group in which it always occurs, we should find it
the same in both cases. The logical difficulty of accounting

HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.

for the fact that such varied experiences are all classed as pleas-
ant or unpleasant would then disappear. The case would be
one of similarity on the ground of partial identity.

In discussing the number of qualities to be recognized in the
algedonic aspect of experience, it seems worth while to add a
word of comment on the experimental method which has been
employed to gain evidence on the subject — that of recording
the modifications of circulation and respiration coincident with
affective states. The work has been done under the assumption
that pleasure and pain were an independent order of elements,
but it would have the same application on the theory that they
are sensations. The assumption underlying the experiments
seems to be that if it could be shown that a given supposed ele-
ment of consciousness were accompanied by a constant set of
physiological changes in breathing and circulation, it would
establish the claim of that content to be an element. In con-
testing this view I may perhaps be fighting a man of straw. It
is difficult to find an explicit statement of it in the literature, and
some of the more recent work, such as that of Shepard, is clearly
exonerated from any suspicion of it. Nevertheless, much of
the earlier experimentation seems implicitly based upon it. A
few years ago I took the trouble to make a comparative study
of the series of investigations in question, summarizing the
results in tables. The manuscript has never seen the light of
publication, but is still in my possession, and by reference to it
I can make some detailed statements of results. One series of
experimenters, Fere, Lehman, Mentz, Meuman and Zoneff,
Brahn, Gent, and Boggs, find antithetical physiological proc-
esses in the breathing, vasomotor, or pulse activities, one or
all, which are correlated with pleasantness and unpleasantness.
Another set, Angell and his co-workers, Shields, Binet and
Courtier, Bonser, and recently Shepard and Kelchner, failed
to find such a correlation.1 Recently Wundt and his students
have attempted to furnish evidence for his tridimensional theory
by the same method. Brahn and Gent both carried out elab-

1 A bibliography for the earlier part of this series of papers may be found in
an article by Angell and Thompson, PSY. REV., VI., 32, 1899 ; and for the later
part in one by John F. Shepard, Am.J. of Psych., XVII., 522, 1906.

SENS OR Y A FFE C TION A ND EMO TION. 339

orate and careful experiments. Each one found a set of results
consistent with itself, and in accord with the theory — three
pairs of antithetical physiological processes corresponding to
the three pairs of affective qualities — but they failed to agree
with regard to the exact nature of the physiological change
characterizing each of the three affective pairs. Before dis-
cussing the theoretical interpretation of these results, I would
like to point out one more fact which is significant, the fact that
those workers who failed to find the correspondence in question
were those who used the greatest variety of stimuli, and that
Wundt's students who failed to agree about the physiological
changes characterizing the pairs strain-relaxation and excite-
ment-depression, used very different stimuli to incite these
states. For instance, for stimulating excitement Brahn used
certain odors, high tones, and noises, while Gent used the sug-
gestion that the subject should try to increase voluntarily the
volume of one arm. Boggs, who repeated Brahn's work, using
the same stimuli, obtained the same results.

Now in the discussion of these results carried on between
Titchener and his pupils, and the Leipzig school, there has been
no question of the fundamental validity of the method. The
mutual criticisms have been directed merely against methods of
experimentation and of dealing with the curves obtained. But
what can be the basis of the assumption that a constant set of
physiological processes means an elementary conscious state?
To be sure, we have a general doctrine that two closely similar
conscious states will have similar physiological accompaniments.
It is further true that relatively simple states are more easily
reproduced at will than complex ones. But the question of an
element of consciousness is a question of absolute, not of rela-
tive simplicity. It is more than possible that there are in con-
sciousness certain relatively constant groups of sensations which
are readily reproduced, and if so they would have relatively
stable physiological accompaniments. For instance, suppose
that Wundt establishes his thesis that strain is always accom-
panied by a given set of changes in pulse and breathing — does
that prove that strain is an elementary conscious state? Cer-
tainly not. It would merely prove that it is a relatively stable

340 HELEN THOMPSON WOOL LEY.

and easily reproduced state of consciousness. In the experi-
ments in which the writer participated some years ago, the most
constant set of results obtained was that for mental application
to simple arithmetical problems, but that was not considered
evidence that mental application is an element of consciousness.
Just how similar two states need to be in order to have the same
sort of physiological accompaniments, we do not know, but it is
fairly certain that they do not need to be elementary. I must
repeat, therefore, that it seems to me impossible that the method
in question should furnish any positive evidence on the question
of the content elements of consciousness.

If one adopts the view which has been presented here, a
certain remodeling of the general formulations of psychology
becomes necessary. Stated from the point of view of content —
the aspect of consciousness in terms of which the discussion has
been carried out — it means that the ultimate product of any and
every analysis of the content of consciousness must be sensa-
tions. To put the matter a little more accurately — when the
final discriminations possible to analysis have been made, the
discriminated contents are all sensations. The affective ele-
ments seem to have met the fate which long ago overtook the
conative elements.

Whether or not the term element is one which can properly
be applied to these simplest discriminable contents of conscious-
ness is a further question which I should answer in the negative.
The point has been ably argued by Miss Gordon.1 The logic
of her contention seems to me irrefutable. An element is, as
she says, a content which is completely homogeneous and not
further analyzable. " There can logically, of course, be only
one final element, since opposites always have a common
ground." Now each sensation can be distinguished from some
thousands of others, and must therefore have many grounds of
distinction within it. I also agree with Miss Gordon in her view
that the discriminated portions of consciousness do not exhaust
its content. There is always present an undiscriminated back-
ground of which we can, of course, say but little. The usage
Miss Gordon seems to favor is to apply the term affection to this

ljour. of Phil., Psych, and Sd. Meth., 1905, II., 617-622.

SENS OR Y A FFE C TION AND EMO TION. 34 1

undiscriminated background of consciousness. With certain
concessions which, I take it, Miss Gordon really makes herself,
the usage strikes me as most happy. I should wish to extend
the term affection, or affective tone, to cover not only the undis-
criminated background of consciousness, but the relatively
undiscriminated portion which is with difficulty distinguished
from it, as well. In so far as we have succeeded in making dis-
criminations within this affective realm, the sensations revealed
are those of pleasure and pain, muscular, and organic sensations.
Miss Gordon seems to have such an interpretation in mind when
she tells us that * feeling is the relatively simple,' that ' there
are many different feeling qualities,' and that ' an emotion is
largely made up of muscular stimulations.'

If this usage be adopted, a distinction must be made between
the affective tone of an experience and its algedonic tone. The
latter depends upon the intensity of the algedonic sensations,
the former upon the total organic reaction of the organism to
the stimulus. This reaction frequently involves sensations of
pleasure or pain, but need not necessarily do so. The distinc-
tion does away with one of the difficulties in the older formula-
tion which always seemed to me very great. If the affective
tone of an experience consists merely in its pleasurable or
painful quality, then it must follow that every experience which
is strongly affective — such as a strong emotion — must be
either intensely pleasurable or intensely painful, whatever else
it may be. To my introspection, nothing could be a more
evident distortion of fact to fit theory. The question as to
whether a given emotion is pleasant or unpleasant is often very
difficult to answer. It was experimental work on the affective
processes which first called my attention to this fact. When
left for some time in a state of revery while the plethysmographic
and respiratory records were being taken, emotional memories
or ideas which caused marked modifications of the curve some-
times occurred. The experimenter always demanded to know
whether the emotions were pleasant or unpleasant. Somewhat
to my own surprise I often found the question most baffling.
Anger is, in my own case, the emotion par excellence in which
the algedonic tone is slight, if present at all. Nor is the diffi-

342 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.

culty disposed of by the admission that pleasure and pain may
coexist in consciousness. Many emotions, as Royce points out,
are characterized by their simultaneous presence. In fact in
my own experience, pleasant emotions, if at all violent, have
an unpleasant element in the very fact of their intensity. Feel-
ing myself given over to any violent emotion, even though I
recognize that it is a desired experience, is in so far unpleasant.
But there are other cases, notably anger, which are intense
without being either pleasant or unpleasant, or both, to any
marked extent. In other words, the emotionality of an expe-
rience does not at all run parallel with its algedonic tone, as the
accepted theory requires.

The classical division of psychological phenomena into the
cognitive, conative and affective realms cannot, on the view
advocated, be regarded as based on the kind of content into
which they can be analyzed. They are distinguished on the side
of content merely by the grouping of their constituent sensa-
tions, presentative or representative. Roughly we may say that in
states which we call affective, algedonic sensations, and vaguely
recognized sensations of an involuntary muscular or organic
type are prominent. In those called conative, sensations either
presenting or standing for voluntary movements are most im-
portant, while the cognitive states are distinguished by the pre-
dominance of the various sensations which mediate a knowledge
of the external world. But though these differences hold
roughly and for many states, the fact remains that no thorough-
going distinction between these kinds of consciousness can be
made on the basis of content alone. The function of the state
in question must always be taken into consideration.

Though the discussion has been carried out on the basis of
content analysis, the whole matter may gain in clearness by
being restated from a functional and genetic point of view such
as that taken in Angell's Psychology. The condition for the
appearance of primitive consciousness in the individual is a lack
of ready-made adjustment to environment, requiring a readjust-
ment on the part of the organism. At first this readjustment
involves a general discharge of nervous energy throughout
the body, bringing about a more or less aimless response of the
whole organism. On the conscious side, since this is a first ex-

SEWS OR Y A FFE C TION A ND EMO TION. 3 45

perience it is of course an unanalyzed experience. It is James'
* big blooming buzzing confusion,' which is nevertheless not
recognized as a confusion ; it is an ' original continuum,' homo-
geneous to the experiencer. If we are to name it in terms of
subsequent analysis, it must of course be called an affective
state. It is in fact the only conceivable state which is pure
affection. As experience progresses, responses to frequently
repeated stimuli become organized in definite channels of dis-
charge, while discrimination of content gradually breaks up the
homogeneity. To the extent to which responses become or-
ganized and adapted to the stimuli which occasion them, they
cease to involve the whole organism, gradually lose the organic
and muscular factors, and consequently their affective tone dis-
appears. They may finally become reduced to mere percep-
tions with little or no affective tone. But there always remain
other situations for which there is no ready-made response and
which do therefore cause a vague stirring up of the entire
organism, i. £., a strongly affective state.

Thus it comes about that within any developed conscious-
ness we can trace a series of states from slight affective tone to
intense emotion, corresponding to the extent to which responses
to stimuli have become reduced to habitual reactions. In so far
as responses are unorganized by habit, they belong on the con-
scious side to the unanalyzed background of consciousness out
of which definite experience is constantly emerging. Discrimi-
nation within consciousness means the presence of organized
response on the side of habit. The process of the development
of intelligence is a gradual differentiation of the cognitive from
the matrix of the affective, coincident with a progressive de-
velopment of habitual activities. The primitive man is a man
of feeling in that he is a man of few discriminations and simple
habits.

From the functional standpoint, one or two more of the dis-
tinctions often quoted to prove the disparateness of sensation
and affection lose their force. It is often stated that whereas
sensations become more distinct and fixed in consciousness with
repetition, affections fade and eventually disappear. The fact
that affections fade and eventually disappear with repetition is
exactly what we must expect if our account of conscious proc-

344 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.

esses has been at all correct. As we have shown, responses
which were at first vague and general, and consequently strongly
affective, become organized in definite habitual channels of
discharge, and therefore lose their affective tone. To deal
with the matter completely, I should have to add that I do not
believe the truth of the statement with regard to the cognitive
contents of consciousness. But that would take me too far
afield.

A point closely related to the one just discussed, though not
identical with it, is that the cognitive and affective contents of
experience are asserted to behave differently when attention is
turned toward them. If attention is fixed upon a cognitive con-
tent, it develops and grows richer, whereas an affective content
attended to, fades and disappears. The classic example is that
as soon as one begins to analyze an emotion, the emotion is de-
stroyed. This again is what must be expected if an affective
content is due to the reflex response of the whole organism to a
given stimulus. As long as attention remains fixed on the
characteristic stimulus, for instance, the thing that is making
us angry, the reflex response continues and we remain angry.
But suppose attention to be turned to the emotion itself. We
begin to try to analyze the various sensations involved. Now
organic or muscular sensations are not the normal stimulus for
anger and therefore when attention is turned toward them,
anger ceases. The anomaly which met the old theory in the
case of physical pain, becomes additional evidence for the cor-
rectness of this view. Pain is not due to a reflex response of
the organism, but to the direct stimulation of a sensory nerve.
So long as attention remains fixed on it, it behaves like other
cognitive contents — remains distinct and often increases in in-
tensity. The way to get rid of physical pain is to turn attention
away from it, and get it absorbed in something else.

Since writing the above, I have come upon a review of a
monograph by Rolf Lagerborg, Leipzig, 1905, which leads me
to think that he has taken the same ground that I have here,
and has gone much further in physiological explanations. I
have, of course, not seen the original.1

'The MS. of this paper was received May 31, '07. — ED.

DISCUSSION.

AN EXPERIMENTAL COURSE IN ESTHETICS.1

I wish to give a brief sketch of a course in esthetics for which —
it seems to me — there is a real demand. I have given this course
repeatedly and am under the impression that the students who took it
derived more benefit from it than they would have derived from a
course following the old-fashioned lines, defining the 4 beautiful ' and
the 'sublime' and informing the student on the historic development
of esthetic theory from Plato and Aristotle up to the year 1907. I
present this sketch of a course in order to call forth criticism and
discussion.

By an experimental course I do not mean a technical course in
which the student is taught how to perform experiments and take
measurements, but a course in which theoretical knowledge is con-
veyed by the help of experimental demonstrations in class.

A student who specializes in philosophical studies wants, of course,
information on the history of esthetic theory. Such information, how-
ever, can be obtained as well from reading books as from listening to
a lecturer. The number of students who want such a course is small
compared with the number who find themselves again and again puzzled
by questions like the following :

Why does Mr. X enjoy this piece of sculpture which is to me little
more than a piece of stone ? Why does Mr. T say that he does not
care for that picture with which I decorated my study ? Why are
some people able to spend delightful hours in the galleries of a museum,
while to me the most delightful moment during a visit to a gallery is
the one when I discover that I am approaching the exit?

Answers to such questions cannot easily be found in books. The
student who seeks these answers needs the guidance of an instructor.
And the course which I wish to describe attempts to help the student
to find them experimentally, to derive them from his own observations
made in class.

It is plain that in a course of this kind one cannot require the
student to have any knowledge of the history of art, or any familiarity

1 Read before the joint meeting of the Western Philosophical Association
and the North-Central section of the American Psychological Association,
Chicago, March, 1907.

' 345

346 EXPERIMENTAL COURSE IN ESTHETICS.

with the technic of drawing, painting, modeling, or carving. The
very students who do not possess such knowledge and have but little
time to acquire it, are most likely to ask questions like the above and
seek for answers. I do require, however, that the student shall pre-
viously have taken a year's course in general psychology covering the
whole field, from sense perceptions to emotions, from the ordinary
activities of daily life to the unusual actions of a temporarily or chron-
ically abnormal human being. Otherwise the course might assume
the features of a kindergarten course instead of those of a college
course ; and only thus can time enough be found to obtain experi-
mentally, within a single semester, answers to the questions of prac-
tical esthetics, answers which are to be of permanent benefit to the
student in his conduct of life.

Such words as 'beautiful, sublime, ugly' are scarcely ever used
during the course; and their use is discouraged. The use of such
words would unavoidably narrow down, from the start, the field of
esthetic inquiry to the limited area covered by the meaning accidentally
associated with them in the student's mind. To illustrate this, let me
mention the case of a student who — at the end of the course in
question — says that he has never applied and will never apply the
word ' beautiful ' to a statue in the nude, but that the course has made
him comprehend why perfectly decent people will place such statues
in a museum or use them to decorate their homes. Another student
says that he can never call a Verestchagin war scene anything but
disgusting, but that he has come to understand why such a painting
may properly find its place in a public or private museum or library.

The most serious mistake which can be made in an experimental
course of instruction in any science consists in overemphasizing those
experimental methods and results which are predominant in the recent
research literature of that science or which have been particularly
investigated by the individual instructor giving the course. Much
harm has been done to psychology in general by this mistake having
been made by some men in charge of psychological courses. The
result has been the still wide-spread belief of the public that an experi-
mental course in psychology consists in discussing and performing all
manner of experiments in order to test the validity of the Weber-
Fechner law — a law which is of but little more concern to the psy-
chologist than to the representative of many another science. I have
tried to avoid this mistake, to have in mind the interest of the
student rather than that of a few investigators who happen to be his
contemporaries.

DISCUSSION. 347

Instead of beginning the course with a definition of * the beautiful/
or of * the esthetic ' or ' art,' I begin with a practical problem by show-
ing the student two lantern slides, representing actual scenery, and
asking him to answer the following question : If you found yourself
momentarily free of all mental occupation and had nothing else to do
in order to while away your time but to inspect either the one or the
other of these pictures, which one would you select for this purpose?
This is a question which every student immediately comprehends and
feels entirely competent to answer. The pictures used for this
purpose are not reproductions of works of art. I do not wish to give
the student from the start the impression that the esthetic experience
is restricted to the perception of artistic creations. The pictures are
lantern slides from a collection intended to serve the purpose of
instruction in geography, representing scenery from all parts of the
globe, some by chance ranking rather high esthetically, some ranking
exceedingly low. But this variety of degree is an advantage rather
than a disadvantage. I have divided these slides into two groups,
according as they contain water in the shape of ocean, lake, river,
brook, or no water. The reason for this division will become clear
later. Each group contains about twelve or fifteen slides.

I then show the class the pictures of one of the above groups in
pairs, presenting each pair long enough for each member of the class
to answer the question as to which he would select for looking at if
that was his only possibility of whiling away his time. The number
of votes of the class are then recorded in a list containing as many
columns as there are pictures. Picture No. i is first presented together
with No. 2, and the votes are recorded in the proper columns. No. i
is then presented with No. 3, and so on until No. i has been shown
together with all the other pictures of the group. Now No. 2 is shown
together with No. 3, with No. 4, etc. This takes of course several
hours. The votes recorded in each column are then added together.
The sums thus obtained, of which the largest are many times mul-
tiples of the smallest, can be regarded as representing a measure of the
relative esthetic value of the pictures for the group of human beings
making up the class.

In order to enable the class to discuss the pictures, they must be
given names. I do not tell the class the actual names, because these
would inevitably influence the judgment, a fact which agrees with a
statement recently made by Professor Lillien Martin who found that
even knowledge of the artist's name influences the esthetic judgment
concerning a painting. Being told that of two river views one rep-

EXPERIMENTAL COURSE IN ESTHETICS.

resents the Rhine valley, the other an unknown region in Canada, the
subject feels constrained to prefer the Rhine. I therefore ask the class
to propose themselves suitable names by which to refer to the pictures.

While it is very important to obtain esthetic measurements valid
for the class as a whole, the individual differences must not be obliter-
ated. I therefore have each student-:- in particular those who cast
their votes with the minority — write down in his note book a state-
ment of the fact that he belongs to the majority or minority and also
of the reasons — if he is conscious of any — why he would select this
picture rather than the other.

Having thus collected material for discussion, it is our task to
explain the relative values recorded by analyzing out of the pictures
the esthetic factors influencing the judgment. For this analysis we
need, of course, some guidance. What could guide us better than a
brief description of the mental processes going on in an artist when he
creates a work of art which is to exert esthetic influence over others ?
I therefore study with the class a description of these mental proc-
esses, and I use the description given by the distinguished German
sculptor Hildebrand in his book The Problem of Form in Painting
and Sculpture. Unfortunately, there is, as yet, no English version of
the book, and the German edition is written in a style so difficult to read
that the book cannot be given into the students' hands. I therefore
present its contents in lectures. When I give the course again, an
English edition of the book will be out.

I shall give here a brief outline of Hildebrand's book in order to
make clear its contents and to show how these contents can help the
student to analyze the esthetic experiences above referred to. There
has been a good deal of discussion among writers on esthetics as to
the question what Hildebrand's esthetic theory is and how it is related
to other theories. As a matter of fact the book contains no esthetic
theory at all. Hildebrand is the last person in the world who would
claim to be a scientist, the promoter of a scientific theory, even in a
science so closely related to art as esthetics. To comprehend his
book, to use it to the best advantage, we must regard it, not as a the-
ory of esthetics, but as the confessions of an artist with respect to
his mode of thought when he is engaged in productive work. And
this very fact that it is not a theory, but a confession of thought,
makes the booklet extremely valuable in an experimental course on
esthetics.

Hildebrand is chiefly a sculptor; but he asks us to regard him not
merely as a sculptor; but as a painter and architect as well, when

DISCUSSION. 349

reading his confessions. He tells us that when he creates a work of
art he is conscious of one predominant aim, and this is: to make the
'work of art clear and impressive as a visual percept. All his vary-
ing thoughts during the process of artistic production are governed by
this universal aim. The aim has three main aspects: (i) The per-
ception must be a visual perception; (2) the perception must be
clear ; (3) the perception must be impressive.

That the purpose of painting, of sculpture, or of architecture is
visual perception, would be a superfluous statement were it not that
writers who are not — as Hildebrand is — productive in art, had actu-
ally tried to convince us otherwise. E. g., A. Schmarsow tells us
that 4 the aim of the painter's art is the representation of the interre-
lations existing between the things of the world, i. £., of the unity of
nature,' which obviously is the aim of the scientist, but not at all of
the artist.

Hildebrand tells us that he cannot create the clearest and most im-
pressive percepts in works of art unless the creative imagination is
visual too ; and the psychologist will readily understand this, for it is
no less true in psychology than elsewhere that like begets like. Not
that other kinds of imagery are to be excluded : they are as important
here as elsewhere in human activities. But they have to be translated
into visual imagery before they influence the artist's productive hands.
And when the artist tests his own work for its esthetic value, he tests
it by the eye, as a visual percept, without any aid on the part of other
sense organs. No matter whether his work is a painting or a statue
or a building, its esthetic value is based exclusively on the character-
istics which it presents as a visual percept.

What, then, are the requirements to be fulfilled in order to have a
visual percept which is both clear and impressive? The artist tells us
that, to have the highest possible degree of clearness, the external
nervous stimulation must be as homogeneous as possible. The psy-
chologist will he ready to understand this. It is but natural that, the
more heterogeneous the external stimulations, the greater the possibil-
ities for distraction of the attention, the less, therefore, the probability
of that unity of mental activity which we refer to by the word clear-
ness. Now, everybody knows that even in applying no other sense
organs to a given situation than our eyes, the external stimulations are
not exclusively those of retinal sensory elements, but also — as a rule —
certain stimulations belonging to the sensory region usually referred to
by the term kinesthetic. This is the case because, in ordinary vision,
our eyes move, and some of these movements, those of convergence

350 EXPERIMENTAL COURSE IN ESTHETICS.

and those of accommodation, resulting from the muscle fibers without
and within the eyeball, furnish sensory stimulations of much impor-
tance for the interpretation of the retinal image. But these same
kinesthetic stimulations, being heterogeneous with the purely visual
impressions, are a possible and probable source of distraction to the
artist's mind. He does not test, therefore, the esthetic value of his
work by looking at it from close by, but by inspecting it from a suffi-
cient distance, where convergence or accommodation no longer play
their r61es in the process of perception. And, likewise, the imagina-
tion, which controls his hand, always consists in visual imagery repre-
senting things as seen from a distance. For the artist, then, all the
esthetic values of visual perception are to be analyzed out of the
percept of a distance picture, of a pure visual projection, as we may
term it.

Another source of distraction to the artist's mind, interfering with
the requirement of the highest possible degree of mental clearness, is
the fact that in ordinary vision our consciousness does not directly cor-
respond to our retinal image, but is manufactured out of two different
images having their details more or less displaced relative to each
other. Again the psychologist will readily understand the artist's
feeling of a lack of unity, of a deficiency in the mental clearness to be
desired, when his consciousness corresponds, not to the direct sensory
stimulation, but to an indirectly stimulated nervous process, made up
for the occasion according to nervous habits well suited to the prac-
tical demands in the struggle for life, but not adapted to the purpose
of a playful activity of the mind. This lack of clearness is eliminated
by the artist in the same manner as the one just mentioned, simply by
making the visual projection, the distance picture, which is identical
for both eyes, the exclusive material of both his productive and
receptive mental activities.

Further conditions, however, have to be fulfilled in order to give
the visual percept the highest possible degree of mental clearness.
The artist requires that the act of forming a percept, a unitary group,
out of the innumerable sensation elements presented be made as easy
as possible so that no effort may be experienced, but the playful atti-
tude of the mind be preserved. For this purpose the horizontal and
vertical directions in the visual field must be clearly indicated by
familiar objects such as a tree standing on level ground and throwing
a shadow upon it. Other means may be used, of which the artist
makes no direct mention, but which psychologists have begun to study
in recent years, actual symmetry of form, or, more frequently, a quasi-

DISCUSSION. 351

symmetry of attention values. Hildebrand, since he does not pretend
to offer a scientific theory, makes no effort to obtain a complete list of
the various factors which can be pressed into service. He is satisfied
with emphasizing the mere necessity of clearness in the two dimensions
of the visual field, by whatever means this clearness may be brought
about.

More important yet than the manner in which the objects are
arranged in two dimensions is their arrangement with respect to their
ability to arouse in us — in spite of our being limited to the visual
projection — an absolutely clear and effortless perception of depth re-
lations. Here we have a large field of esthetic investigation in which
practically nothing has been done thus far by psychologists. Hilde-
brand tells us that he obtains his end chiefly by two means, by arrang-
ing the various objects in a comparatively small number of successive
planes, and by choosing the objects for representation in the various
planes in such a manner that the observer cannot help reading off
their depth values from the front of the picture into its depth.

It is but natural that the clearness, the so-called repose or unity,
of the perception must be greatly enhanced by the objects not being
scattered all over the three-dimensional space but being found in a
small number of planes, meaning by 4 planes,' of course, layers of a
certain thickness. If they are arranged within these planes in such
ways that each plane offers a perfectly clear two-dimensional percept,
there is but one problem left, that of uniting these planes in one act of
perception, in order to obtain a perfectly clear percept of the total
space with all its contents.

For the purpose of uniting the planes Hildebrand's chief require-
ment is that the observer be made to read off the distance values of
the planes in a serial order, beginning from the front. Again there is
no difficulty in understanding this requirement on psychological
grounds. Whenever our eyes in actual life sweep along a line in the
direction of the third dimension, as when we look over our writing
desk, or over the lawn in front of our house, we practically without
exception fixate a near object first and farther and farther points of
interest in succession until we have reached the most distant point
visible. Having acquired a strong habit of this kind, it is plain that
the ease of perception would suffer if, in inspecting a picture, the
imaginary eye movement would proceed otherwise, i. e., if any plane
other than the front plane of the picture (in painting ; and no less in
sculpture or architecture) would attract our attention first, and the
less distant plane or planes later. Here again Hildebrand does not

35 2 EXPERIMENTAL COURSE IN ESTHETICS.

attempt to solve the psychological problem, what the conditions of
visual sensation or perception are which favor and which are opposed
to this direction of our reading off movement. He is satisfied with
emphasizing the fact as being of the greatest importance in his own
creative thought and with illustrating it by a few examples.

The third requirement is that of impressiveness. Clearness obtained
by emptiness of the situation would have little, if any, esthetic value.
The spatial contents presented to the eye must have a meaning, must
represent life. The artist tells us that life does not invariably mean to
him actual movement; it may mean merely possible movement. The
spatial contents presented arouse in the artist feelings of activity or of
character by which activity is governed. And these feelings can be
strong, the impressiveness of the visual percept can be great only when
the spatial contents consist of objects which possess typical spatial
forms, which are types of activity or character, for example a sinewy
hand, or a strong jaw, and when the spatial arrangement itself fulfills
the requirements of clearness so that there is mental energy enough
available to perceive the life of the spatial contents, subtracting the
energy necessary to perceive the total space. Life must be represented
in the picture, but the question what kind of activity, what kind of
character this life consists in, is regarded by Hildebrand as a question
which does not concern the artist as artist, which concerns only the
individual as individual.

Having made the students acquainted with the artist's mode of
thought as confessed by himself and just given in outline, and, indeed,
'while making them acquainted with these thoughts, I ask the students
to analyze out some of the esthetic factors effective in our experiments
by trying to apply the artist's mode of thought to the pictures which
we arranged in a series according to their esthetic effectiveness. The
students now easily separate the individual factor from factors which are
of universal application. One of them is much interested in a picture
because a group of human beings apparently resting after a day of
labor are visible in the foreground and arouse a strong emotional
response. Another one prefers a picture because it contains a hilly
pasture reminding him of childhood days. Aside from such ihdi-
vidually effective factors there are now discovered features which are
of more universal application, which exert a determining influence on
the esthetic judgment of all the members of the class. And it is at
once admitted that the latter factors are those which should be studied
here, by this class, for that we have our individual preferences can
scarcely be regarded as a fact to be studied in a course on esthetics,

DISCUSSION. 353

but, perhaps, in a course on individual psychology. It is also admitted
that thoughts of human toilers, of a playground of our childhood days,
of a Madonna and Child, so far as they are subjects of esthetic inquiry,
are not exclusively based on visual perception, but may be conveyed
by poetry or prose, and must therefore be studied in a further branch
of esthetics, separate from the problems which have come thus far to
constitute our center of interest.

Why, then, is a certain picture clearer and more impressive than
another picture and receives thus a majority of the votes? Some of
the instances illustrating the rules of two- and three-dimensional
arrangement are noticed by the students directly, others by the help
of an indirect method to be mentioned farther on. Such facts as real
symmetry, or quasi-symmetry may be observed directly. The effect of
the presence of water, referred to above, may also largely be grasped
by direct inspection. Not that water in itself is particularly pleasing
to look at. Not everyone has pleasant associations derived from
swimming or boating or other water sports or from the pleasant expe-
rience of washing down his food. But water nearly always conveys
a clear idea of the horizontal plane and thus aids in the perception of
the spatial relations of other things.

The indirect method referred to is particularly useful in the study
of the spatial structure in the direction of the third dimension, although
it is entirely applicable and useful also for the study of two-dimen-
sional arrangement. The method consists in cutting off from above
or below, from the right or the left, larger or smaller pieces of the
picture and studying the new picture with respect to the same question
with which we started the experiments. This cutting off is easily done
with lantern slides by means of strips of card board. We observe that
frequently the resulting picture seems preferable to the original. And
we have little difficulty in observing that this is the case because of the
removal of an object which does not obey the rules of arrangement in
planes and of reading off the successive planes from the front to the
back. We observe that a picture which was given a rather low rank
in our experiments can thus often be raised to an equal rank with pic-
tures which previously appeared superior. Nevertheless, the life and
character of the piece of nature represented may have remained prac-
tically the same as before. We can use these observations as illustrating
the fact that in esthetics — if not in general, at least in esthetics as
applied to art — the formal principles are of more fundamental im-
portance than those concerning content, that the mere fact that a piece
of nature, because of some accidentally acquired associations, pleases

354 EXPERIMENTAL COURSE IN ESTHETICS.

someone is no excuse for representing it in art, unless its form makes-
it worthy to be represented. I do not mean, of course, that without
this method of cutting off pieces of the picture we could not get along.
Indeed, to some pictures it cannot be successfully applied. We use then
the direct method for the study of the esthetic effectiveness of the arch-
itectonic of the picture. And here we observe another, indeed the
chief effect of the presence of water in a landscape. A water surface
easily breaks up the infinite number of details into readily perceptible
groups. And if these groups happen to arrange themselves into larger
groups, into a few successive planes, and if nothing counteracts, if
everything aids our tendency to read off these planes from the front to
the back, the esthetic effect is great.

It is impossible to enumerate here all the detail questions which
can be asked and discussed by students and instructor. I wish to men-
tion only one kind of such questions, those with respect to the means
by which our tendency to read off the spatial values from the front tx>
the back can be aided, and with respect to the opposite effect which
must be avoided. Hildebrand in his book gives a few instances an-
swering this question. But many more may be found if we study
pictures as my students do this in class. J5. ^., if one of the ob-
jects of the first plane is conspicuous by mere size, or color, or light
contrast, but otherwise uninteresting, it will serve to attract our atten-
tion at once to the first plane without unduly keeping it there. Facts
like the one just stated appear cut and dried when stated in abstract
form, but readily become a valuable addition to the student's store of
knowledge if he derives them himself from immediate observation,
applying the scientific laws which he has previously acquired in a
course in general psychology.

Studying what I called the impressiveness of a visual percept by
analyzing landscapes, the student easily discovers that the impressive-
ness of a visual percept is something different from what the ordinary
man happens to call * beauty.' The life and character of a landscape
consist in the amount of spatial elements arranged for ease of percep-
tion. We may apply here the traditional esthetic term of unity in
variety. The larger the number of spatial elements, in other words:
the greater the spatial richness of the picture, the more intense is its
life, the more pronounced its character. Whether the landscape
stretches out for many miles or only a few yards, however, is irrele-
vant, for the absolute size of the spatial elements is a matter of arbi-
trary choice.

Turning now to sculpture, first to relief, then to sculpture in the

DISCUSSION. 355

round, the student readily comprehends that the esthetic laws of vis-
ual perception are essentially the same here as in drawing and paint-
ing. He observes that all his previous observations can be repeated
here, and he convinces himself of the absurdity of attributing to
sculpture objective beauty, since sculpture is a thing to be seen, and
not to be seen while we are wandering around it, but to be seen from
a single point of view, that point of view from which the artist con-
ceived his visual image of the picture. I need not describe in detail
how I proceed in class with regard to these questions since I follow
rather closely the lines of discussion chosen by Hildebrand in his book.

Thus far, no particular mention has been made in this course of the
law of association upon which so much stress has been laid by Fech-
ner. I now give my students some lectures on Fechner's principles
of esthetics and let the students discuss them. It is found then that
these principles are of much less esthetic importance than the formal
laws of visual perception previously studied. Much esthetic effective-
ness that seems to be due to association is really due to its influence on
form perception. For example, what Fechner says about the associa-
tions based on color, is doubtless true, but practically rather insignifi-
cant. Saying this, I do not wish to give the impression of believing
in color-harmony or in any other speculative principle of color esthet-
ics. 1 do not believe that colors can be said to harmonize at all, and
I give my students here the results of the psychological investigations
of recent years, which clearly show that color-harmony is a meaning-
less term. But it does not follow that all the esthetic effectiveness of
color must then be based on Fechner's principle of association. On
the contrary, the great importance of color is to be found in its unify-
ing and separating effects by means of which it aids us immensely in
perceiving the spatial contents of a spatial whole.

There is no need of belittling the great accomplishment of Fechner
in esthetics. His work is invaluable as a welcome reaction from
purely speculative esthetics which was derived from metaphysical
principles instead of being based on a study of the laws of the mind
in esthetic perception. But it would be a regrettable illusion if psy-
chologists thought that beyond the problems stated by Fechner none
were left which offered themselves for an 'experimental investigation.
I am inclined to believe that the problems of form (in all three
dimensions) , which are barely hinted at by Fechner, are those which
promise the most satisfactory results to the experimental investigator.

The student is now well prepared to discuss critically the esthetic
value of the discoveries made by artists of recent times, particularly

356 EXPERIMENTAL COURSE IN ESTHETICS.

those of the impressionistic school. I give the class a brief outline of
the theories in which the artistic tendencies of this school are usually
described ; and by the help of a few typical examples, I let them con-
clude themselves to what extent these new tendencies can really be
regarded as new discoveries, to what extent merely as further elabora-
tions of principles well known and employed by much earlier artists.
Especially the color theories as applied to their technic by the im-
pressionists are discussed here by the class. And this takes but little
time if the members of the class are familiar with the physiological
theories of color vision.

I finally give my students a survey of the general esthetic theories
as proposed by recent writers. It is easy to show that — in spite of
all divergence — they agree in regarding the esthetic experience essen-
tially as a playful attitude towards a situation. The more adapted the
situation is to be responded to in play, the higher its esthetic value.
Such general theories can be discussed with a class more advantage-
ously after the esthetic experience itself, in many variations, has
become a perfectly familiar phenomenon to the student, than they can
be taught while the student still has to guess what experience the in-
structor means when talking of the beautiful or the esthetic. If we
apply the modern esthetic theories to the arts of painting, sculpture,
and architecture, we can summarize in a few words by saying : An
esthetic experience is a mental process of playing with a visual percept.
And to make this clear to the student I have regarded as the aim of

this course.1

MAX MEYER.
UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI.

1 The MS. of this article was received April 6, 1907.

N. S. VOL. XIV. No. 6. November, 1907.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.

APPARENT CONTROL OF THE POSITION OF
THE VISUAL FIELD.

BY DR. HARVEY CARR,
Pratt Institute.

One of my students reported that she possessed the ability of
moving upwards the entire visual field. This translocation first
occurred involuntarily and after noticing the phenomenon the
subject found by trial that it could be repeated at will.

During several conferences and tests the following account
was obtained, giving the essential facts as to the nature of the
phenomenon and the circumstances of its occurrence so far as
the subject had been able to notice them : The subject is afflicted
with hysteria. A rather severe attack occurred seven years ago
from which she is slowly recovering. The involuntary trans-
locations were first noted shortly after this time and they have
occurred rather infrequently ever since. Fatigue and a pro-
longed fixation seem to be the conditions under which they
occur involuntarily. The phenomenon can be produced vol-
untarily at any time and under any circumstances. The sub-
ject has refrained from much experimentation for fear of
aggravating her mental condition. An object is momentarily
fixated and then slowly raised upwards. The duration of
fixation necessary before movement can be effected varies from
one to ten seconds. The rapidity of the movement varies.
The translocation is sometimes slow and gradual and is effected
only by continuous effort ; at other times the movement is more
rapid and comes easily. Fatigue and brightness of the visual
field decrease the time of necessary fixation and increase the
rapidity and ease of the translocation. The extent and duration

357

35 8 HARVEY CARR.

of the displacement is under complete control. The extent of
the movement may be anywhere from one to forty degrees.
The field may be held stationary at any desired position, and
then be moved on upwards or be brought back to its original
position. The displacement has been maintained in one posi-
tion for five minutes, though the continuous strain necessary is
very fatiguing. The exhaustion due to continuous effort seems
to be the only limitation of the possible duration of the phenome-
non. Objects do not become double during the translocation ;
they are perceived only in their elevated position, although the
subject is conscious of their original location, for she can at any
time point accurately in that direction. The entire visual field
participates in the movement, and all visual objects keep their
relative positions to each other. The only noticeable change in
the character of the visual objects is a slight decrease in their
intensity, though they remain distinct and substantial in appear-
ance. When the field is lowered to its original position, the
visual objects receive an added snap of reality the moment they
reach their real position. It is by this means that the subject
knows when the objects reach their true positions. Both the
upward and the return movements are consciously real ; objects
do not merely appear now in one place and now in another, but
they appear to move as well. The objects do not move rela-
tively to the line of sight. The object originally fixated remains
at the point of fixation throughout the displacement ; in other
words the point of fixation participates in the translocatory move-
ment. The visual field remains perpendicular to the line of
sight, as if it were undergoing a vertical rotation about the head
as a center. If a person is in the visual field his voice partici-
pates in the illusion. In the preliminary tests, the subject was
requested to attempt other directions of movement but she was
unsuccessful. Moreover, she was successful only with binocular
vision, and when the eyes were in relatively unconstrained posi-
tions in the socket during the original fixation. With monocular
vision or when the eyes were rotated far to the periphery, only
a very slight and momentary displacement could be effected.

At first it was supposed that the phenomenon could be
explained on the basis of one of three theories : (i) The trans-

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 359

location is effected by some ocular innervation which does not
involve eye movement, but which shifts the space reference of
the retinae. The phenomenon would thus be similar to the well-
known illusion due to the paralysis of the external rectus. This
theory was put out of consideration immediately by the very
obvious fact that the eyes do not remain stationary, but rotate
in the direction of, and in proportion to, the visual illusion. If
the illusion were slight in extent one could not be certain of this
fact, but a movement of thirty degrees that may be maintained
for five minutes is too obvious for the most sceptical observer.
The subject was asked to point out the apparent location of the
fixated object, and it always coincided with the directional posi-
tion of her eyes. (2) The second theory supposes that the eyes
rotate with the illusion, the space reference of the retinas remains
normal, but that a refractive change, a lateral or rotary move-
ment of the lens, occurs whereby the rays from the real posi-
tions of the objects are kept focused upon the same points of
the retinas in spite of the bulbular or retinal rotation. Such a
conception is conceivable though its truth is not probable accord-
ing to current views of ocular physiology. There is some factual
support for such a theory, because the point of fixation, that por-
tion of the field corresponding to foveal activity, is displaced and
the image of the object originally fixated is still located at the point
of fixation. Foveal positive and negative after-images were
induced and developed before the translocation. These after-
images representing foveal activity participated in the move-
ment and were still located at the point of fixation. Although
the eye has rotated upwards forty degrees away from the object
primarily fixated, yet the image of that object must be due to
the foveal activity of the retinas, for it is located at the fixation
point and also at the same position in space as a foveal after-
image. This theory was tested by making a phakoscopic
examination of the behavior of the refractive surfaces. No
unusual movements were detected. The lenticular images
behaved in reference to the corneal image exactly as they did
during a similar normal rotation. No refractive changes were
in evidence. Ophthalmoscopic tests were planned but a more
satisfactory theory was evolved before they were carried out.

360 HARVEY CARR.

(3) It may be supposed that the illusion is due to some disturb-
ance in the sense of bodily position, which illusory disturbance
is projected upon, or interpreted as belonging to, the objective
field, the inverse of the haunted swing illusion, etc. There is
no evidence in favor of this theory. The subject does not feel
dizzy in the least. Her conceptual, or ideational, space is not
affected ; she can point out the vertical and cardinal positions,
and the real location of the displaced objects although she may
not see anything in that direction. Furthermore, if the theory
were true, it would be necessary to assume some secondary
principle, as a refractive change, in order to compensate for
the effects of the eye rotation.

The next conception evolved to be experimentally tested
may be roughly stated as follows : During the entire period of
the displacement, the retinae are insensitive to all objective stim-
ulations, and that which the subject sees is a hallucinatory
positive after-image of the objects primarily perceived. This
theory was suggested by two facts : (i) The subject is an hys-
teric, a temporary visual anaesthesia being one of the symptoms ;
(2) In the preliminary tests I noted that she was extraordinarily
susceptible to positive after-images. A momentary glance at
an electric light in daylight is sufficient to induce a positive
after-image with a duration of seven to eight minutes. This
conception proved to be true in the main. The tests were made
at various times of the day with different conditions of illumina-
tion. Two series were made at night in a room illumined by a
shaded Welsbach lamp. The remaining tests were made on
bright clear days in a well-lighted room where the brightness
of the background could be varied. The various experiments
will be grouped around a series of propositions.

A. The translocations may be in any direction and may be
initiated and sustained by a movement of either the eyes, head,
or body.

At first the movements had occurred in but the one direction ;
at my suggestion the subject attempted other directions of move-
ment but was unsuccessful. If the translocated visual field is
a positive after-image, it would seem that any direction of move-
ment should be possible. With this idea in mind, the subject

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 361

was directed to rotate her head slowly sidewise during an up-
ward displacement. She did so and the displaced field moved
likewise. The field could now be moved in any direction by
either a head or eye movement. After this experience, the sub-
ject was able to start the displacement in any direction, the pre-
liminary upward movement not being necessary. By turning
the head and body, the field may be rotated to such an extent
that the objects originally perceived no longer stimulate the
retina. This result did not occur with the first displacements of
forty degrees. The field may be rotated the full 360 degrees
if desired.

During the preliminary tests, displacements could not be ef-
fected with monocular vision, nor when the eyes were in con-
strained positions. After several months of experimentation, the
attempt to secure displacements under these conditions was
repeated with successful results. The translocation was ef-
fected, but not readily, and the period of necessary fixation was
longer than in the case of binocular vision with a normal posi-
tion of the eyes.

B. All new objects introduced into the field of vision during
the displacement are not -perceived.

This statement does not mean that the stimulations do not
affect vision at all ; it means that these objects are not perceived
as objects with their proper form, color and position so as to be
recognized and located in space. At first the subject was kept
in ignorance of the nature of the tests, and while she occasion-
ally knew that something had happened to the visual field, she
did not have the least idea as to what had caused the perceived
changes. After being informed as to the nature of the experi-
ments, she generally knew that some object had been intro-
duced into the visual field but she had no idea as to its nature
or location.

At night, she fixated a lighted candle near the wall some
eight feet distant. After a displacement of fifteen degrees, a
large bright yellow paper was thrust in front of the candle ; it
was not perceived. The paper was now put eight inches in
front of each eye in succession, and then held at the same dis-
tance in front of both eyes for a couple of minutes. The paper

362 HARVEY CARR.

was large enough (16 in. square) to intercept the entire visual
field, and a Welsbach light was so situated as to shine directly
upon it. In neither case was the paper seen. A long series
of similar tests was performed in bright daylight, the objects
being introduced at different distances from the eye and in vari-
ous positions in the visual field. A few typical cases will be
described : After a twenty degree displacement, a book and a
lighted candle were placed at the original fixation position.
The lighted candle was moved back and forth a foot in front of
her eyes. A bright paper screen was placed a foot in front of
both eyes so as to intercept the entire visual field. The screen
was kept in this position for two minutes. Again, the field was
displaced so that the subject's eyes were directed at an electric
light some eight feet distant. This light consisted of three six-
teen-candle incandescents. While the eyes were held in this
position, the light was turned on for fifteen seconds. This test
was repeated a dozen times. In one of the tests the light was
kept on for a full three minutes. In none of these cases were
the objects perceived. When the visual field is moved more
than ninety degrees, it is projected against an entirely new
background of objects and these always remain invisible.

C. Objects introduced into the visual field during the dis-
placement^ although not perceived, may affect the brightness,
color tone and distance location of the displaced images.

The effect varies with the brightness of the field originally
fixated, and the intensity, extent, and duration of the stimula-
tion introduced. If the objects displaced be very bright, while
the stimulation introduced be of small extent or of weak inten-
sity, no effect is noticeable. If the field be weak in intensity,
and the stimulation introduced be intense, large and prolonged,
a maximum effect results.

When the window was displaced in bright daylight and a
book or lighted candle was placed at the original fixation posi-
tion at a distance of ten feet from the subject, no effect was
noticed. When the screen of bright yellow paper was passed
close in front of her eyes so as to intercept the vision of one or
of both eyes, a very dim shadow appeared to pass over the dis-
tant displaced field. When the lighted candle was thrust close

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 363

in front of her eyes, a marked pupillary reflex was evident,
and a very dim pale yellow light was suffused over the distant
field. The bright window and a dull yellow wall were succes-
sively displaced in the direction of the electric lights ; this stim-
ulation produced a pale yellow glare over the field, but the
effect was much more pronounced in the latter case, /'. £., with
the less intense field. When the image of the window was dis-
placed against the electric light, no effect was noticeable at
first ; after a few moments the yellow light tinged the field
and gradually became more intense as the stimulation was pro-
longed. After a few minutes the yellow glare contracted from
the periphery and became concentrated in the center of the
field. Probably in time the lights would have been perceived
in this case, but the subject was not able to prolong the test
over three minutes. A dull wall was displaced against a black-
board as a background at the distance of three feet from the
observer. A lighted candle was held near the blackboard and
directly in front of her eyes. At first there appeared a dim
flare of yellow light which gradually contracted in size and
increased in intensity. After four minutes the image of this
candle broke through the displaced field and was perceived as
a candle. This was the only case in all of the tests where a
distinct perception of the object occurred, and even here the
percept of the candle was described as being strange, hazy, and
unreal in appearance, and much less intense than in ordinary
vision. Furthermore, in this test the field had been rotated
more than ninety degrees, so that the objects primarily fixated
no longer stimulated the retinas, and, as shall be noted later,
the stimulation from the real objects is effective in maintaining
their displaced images in consciousness.

When the screen was placed close before both eyes so as to
intercept the entire visual field, some of the displaced visual
objects, after some time, appeared located at the distance of
the screen as though projected upon it. The screen remained
invisible and the subject was ignorant as to the nature of the
experiment. In the first test the subject suddenly reached out
her hand in order to point out the location of the image, and
was greatly surprised when her hand came in contact with a

364 HARVEY CARR.

real object in that position. Only those images foveally per-
ceived were affected in this manner, and their size was always
increased in proportion to the nearness of their location. This
fact is directly contrary to the usual results as to the size of
after-images when projected on backgrounds of different dis-
tances from the observer. However, in the above case it must
be borne in mind that the eyes remained adapted for the dis-
tant position, instead of becoming converged upon the invis-
ible screen.

The retinal effectiveness of these new stimulations is genuine.
The pupillary reflex is indubitable proof. The screen though
not perceived influences the distance of the displaced images.
The diffused yellow glare is undoubtedly due to the stimulation
of the lights. The subject was ignorant of the tests in the
majority of the cases so that the results probably cannot be due
to conscious suggestion. The absence of retinal effectiveness
might be shammed by the subject, but there could be no decep-
tion when retinal effects are present, unless she had knowledge
of the nature of the experiments to be performed.

D. The objects primarily fixated, though not -perceived at
their real -positions, effectively influence in various -ways their
displaced images so long as their stimulations can reach
the retina.

This influence may be tested by displacing the field more
than ninety degrees, by covering one of the objects with a
screen, by moving an object in the field, or by removing an
object entirely from the range of possible vision.

i. A removal of an object from the range of vision was
finally effective in all of the experiments. A few cases will
illustrate the general nature of the results. The electric lights
were fixated and displaced about twenty degrees. Shortly
afterwards they were turned off. The displaced image of the
light immediately exhibited a marked decrease in brightness
but remained visible during the continuance of the test. The
writer stood in front of the window and was fixated by the sub-
ject. After the displacement, he suddenly dropped down out
of the range of vision. After a half minute his displaced image
disappeared entirely from sight, though the images of the other

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 365

objects in the field remained in distinct view. The place of
image was not filled in by the surrounding visual content, t. e.,
the bright light of the window. Neither was the window back
of his body now perceived. The space was filled in by a
homogeneous light gray content, a light shadow silhouette
effect. Upon rising up again to the original position, a rather
hazy image appeared to view but still in its displaced position.
The subject was ignorant of the nature of the test. A book
was held before the window and fixated. After the displace-
ment it was removed, and in a short time its image disappeared.
The book was now brought back into the field of vision, but it
was placed a foot below its original position. Its displaced
image reappeared, but at a position a foot below that from
which it had disappeared. The test was repeated a number of
times, the object being introduced into the field at various posi-
tions relative to its original location. The same results obtained ;
the reappearing image was always displaced from the true posi-
tion of the object and bore the same spatial relation to its posi-
tion of disappearance as the new location of the real object did
to its primary position. The object was never perceived simul-
taneously in the two positions. The first image always disap-
peared before the second image was seen in the new position.
The reappearing images were much dimmer than their originals
and were always perceived with some difficulty. The objects
were easier to perceive when brought back to their original
position than in the case where they were introduced in a new
position.

Since the existence of the image of the removed object
depends upon the presence or absence of that object in the field,
although the other images in the displaced field remain visible,
it follows that the objective stimulations must be effective in
maintaining the vision of their translocated images. Ignorance
of the tests disposes of the possibility of any sham or suggestion.

The removal of an intensive stimulation from the original
field thus produces a decrease of brightness in its displaced
image. If the stimulation is weak, its displaced image finally
disappears. If the object is returned to the field, perception
occurs with difficulty and the new image is much dimmer than

366 HARVEY CARR.

the original one. The new image occupies the same relative
position in the displaced field as the new location of the object
does in the primary field.

2. Movement of an object in the primary field may produce
a change of location on the part of its image. If the movement
is slow, a perception of motion may result.

At night the writer stood in the field of view. During the
displacement, the arm was lifted up slowly to a horizontal posi-
tion. No movement was perceived at first. After the arm had
moved about half the distance, the subject noted its new position
and then perceived it in motion for the remainder of the distance.
The perception was very vague and difficult. The arm seemed
to be a mere transparent shadow, for the subject could look
through it and see the visual objects past which it moved. The
experiment was repeated while standing before a bright window.
No movement was perceived ; the arm was finally seen in its
extended position, presenting a very shadowy and unsubstantial
appearance, markedly different from the remaining part of the
body. The electric lights were fixated and displaced ten de-
grees against a dull yellow wall. The light was then set swing-
ing, pendular fashion, quite rapidly. The arc of movement
was two feet in extent. The displaced image of the light was
described as quivering in a vibratory fashion as though it were
rigid and had been violently jarred. In a similar test, the light
was slowly moved backwards and forwards through an arc of
three feet. A similar motion on the part of its displaced image
was perceived, but its extent was judged to be only six inches
in length. This decrease in length was not due to the subject's
ignorance of linear values, for the extent of movement was rep-
resented graphically after the test. Whether the perceived
motion was synchronous with the motion of the light, or lagged
behind it an appreciable time, I do not know, though the latter
condition probably obtained. The image of the moving object
was never seen in two positions simultaneously ; the image in
the first position disappeared before the moving object was per-
ceived in its second position.

These results are genuine, for I attempted to induce such
movements by suggestion, often asserting that my arm was

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 367

being elevated and requesting the subject to perceive the move-
ment if possible. Such attempts were invariably unsuccessful.
When the field was displaced more than ninety degrees, the
movement of an object produced no effect upon its image. In
this case, the object no longer stimulated the retinas. Objects
were also moved after being hidden behind a screen ; this
movement effected no results upon the displaced image. Con-
sequently suggestion cannot explain the results.

3. The various results obtained by the interception of the orig-
inal stimulus by the introduction of a screen are partly due to
the new stimulation introduced as well as to the removal of the
old one. The results due to the new object have been enu-
merated and described in a previous section (C, pp. 362 ff.). Cer-
tain other phenomena occur, however, which are due to the
removal of the original stimulus from the retina?. In the tests
at night a screen was interposed just in front of the candle
originally fixated. The image of the candle did not disappear
but flared out to a large size with an indeterminate contour and
a marked decrease in luminosity. The image resumed its nor-
mal appearance when the screen was removed. The test was
repeated several times in immediate succession with the same
results. The screen was placed immediately in front of both
eyes. All visual objects in the displaced field disappeared
almost at once, but the subject continued to see the space be-
tween the screen and the distant wall as though nothing had
happened ; this space appeared light and transparent as in nor-
mal vision. The background, i. £., the image of the wall,
merely faded away into nothingness ; the further limit of the
perceived empty space was thus not blackness but a mere void.
After a short time the image of the candle reappeared at the
distance of the screen, though all other objects in the field re-
mained invisible. When this image of the candle reappeared
to view, vision of the empty space beyond the screen was lost.
With strong illumination (fixating the window on a bright day),
a screen interposed just in front of the object of fixation pro-
duced no noticeable results on the character or continuance of
its image. When the screen was placed immediately before
both eyes so as to intercept the entire field, certain objects in

368 HARVEY CARR.

the far distance which were perceived through the window dis-
appeared from vision at once, but the images of the window and
surrounding walls as well as of the intervening space remained
visible for nearly a minute. After this period the small part of
the window foveally perceived became located at the distance
of the screen. The subject's attention was now attracted to
this, and she did not notice whether the remaining part of the
field continued to be visible at its distant position. However,
the empty space beyond the screen was still perceived until the
end of the experiment.

The apparent results of these tests may be stated as follows :
When the original stimulation is intense and a small portion of
the field is intercepted, no effect upon the duration of the dis-
placed image is noticeable. When the stimulation is weak and
the whole field is intercepted, the displaced images disappear
almost immediately. Intermediary results can be obtained with
mean conditions.

4. The influence of the original stimulations may be inferred
from certain results obtained by a displacement of more than
ninety degrees. The introduction of the electric lights before
the eyes produced more marked results in case the field was dis-
placed to such an extent that the original objects perceived no
longer stimulated the retinae. Moreover, the results occurred
more quickly with such extreme rotations than they did with a
small displacement. The object introduced into the field was
perceived as an object only in the case of such an extreme
rotation.

The displaced images thus possess a greater resistance to
the influence of new stimuli so long as the primary field con-
tinues to stimulate the retinae.

E. The effect of an old stimulation is much greater than,
and far different from , that of any new stimulus introduced
during the displacement.

i. An old object introduced into any part of the field after its
removal is perceived as an object under conditions where the
introduction of a new object would produce no visual effect
whatsoever.

This general statement is derived from a comparison of the

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 369

results of the tests described in sections B, C, and D. The fol-
lowing test was performed to illustrate the proposition. Under
conditions of weak illumination, I stood in the field of view hold-
ing an unlighted candle in my hand. The hand was fixated
and a ten degree displacement of the field was secured. I now
moved out of the range of possible vision and lighted the candle.
After my displaced image had disappeared from view, I came
back to the original position. The image of myself and candle
now reappeared, but the light was not perceived save for the
dim and vague luminosity suffusing the field. It would be pos-
sible to choose conditions under which even this dim luminosity
would not occur.

2. The effect of a new object tends to be diffused over the
visual field, while the effect of an old object tends to be definite
and localized.

The first case is illustrated by the diffused luminosity of the
candle and electric lights. The second statement is illustrated
by a number of facts. The displaced image of the electric
lights decreased in intensity the moment the light was turned
off, although no effect was noted on the remaining part of the
field. The removal or movement of an object in the primary
field produced visual effects which were confined entirely to the
displaced image of that object. When an old object was brought
back into any part of the field, it was perceived as an object,
*". £., its visual effects were definitely localized in space.

3. The visual effects of a new object are projected in accord-
ance with the normal laws of retinal space reference. The im-
age of an old object re-introduced into any part of the field is
perceived in a displaced position.

As illustrations of the first statement we may cite the follow-
ing tests : In the case where the candle introduced into the field
after a displacement was perceived as a candle, it was correctly
localized. It was placed directly in front of the subject's eyes
and it was perceived in that position. In the case where the
eyes were directed at the electric lights for three minutes during
a displacement, the diffused luminosity became concentrated in
a large circle in the center of the field of vision. If this ring
of light represents the stimulation of the lights, as has been

37° HARVEY CARR.

assumed, it was correctly localized. The second of the above
statements represents the results given in section D, (i) and (2).
F. This peculiar and abnormal functional condition of the
eyes obtaining during the displacements may be maintained, de-
stroyed and reinstated at ivill. The condition is maintained or
reinstated by a mental Jiat accompanied by an orbital strain,
while the condition is discontinued at any time by a mental fiat
and a relaxation of the orbital strain.

1. Maintenance of the displacement. During the various
tests, a careful observation was made of the subject's motor atti-
tudes and expression in initiating and maintaining the displace-
ments. The body generally remained quiet but exhibited a
suppressed tenseness as though the whole energy of the body
was being concentrated upon the task in hand. The breathing
was slow, quiet and regular, but much deeper than usual. The
subject appeared slightly enrapt or entranced as one does with
extreme absorption in some observation involving steady fixation.
The extreme concentration was due to the facts that the tests
were generally of some duration, the subject's attention was
directed to the observation of all changes occurring in the visual
field, while many of the phenomena were novel in character.
It was found on trial that the field could be displaced and main-
tained in a given position with a relaxed condition of the body
and with normal breathing. No expression was noted other
than that occurring in a case of ordinary fixation. Introspec-
tively, the only necessary conditions for the maintenance of the
displacement were a marked strain located in the head directly
back of the eyeballs, and the focusing of the attention upon
the images.

2. The discontinuance of the state. We found that it was
not necessary to move the field back to its original position in
order to discontinue the state. The subject generally shook
her head, moved her eyes, blinked several times and relaxed
her bodily tension. The subject was asked to give an account
of her method of discontinuing the state at will, but was unable
to do so with the exception that she had noted that it was not
necessary to move the field back to its primary position. This
method was made an object of study in a number of experi-

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. tfl

ments. It was found that a sudden head or eye movement
generally caused the field to disappear momentarily during the
movement. The movements, blinkings and the bodily relaxa-
tion were not necessary to discontinue the phenomenon though
they were of some service. The only necessary concomitants
of the mental decision were the release of the attention from the
images, and a relaxation of the orbital strain mentioned above.
The displaced field does not disappear immediately, but fades
away gradually. The time necessary for the disappearance of
the images seemed to vary slightly in the different tests. Prob-
ably, the time is proportional to the intensity of the original
stimulations. The average duration necessary was from three
to five seconds. The recovery of normal vision does not occur
immediately after the disappearance of the displaced images.
There is an intermediary period in which the visual field pre-
sents a uniform gray hazy appearance. The images of the real
objects now before the eyes break through this hazy mist and
gradually become distinct. The whole process involving the
disappearance of the displaced field and the recovery of normal
vision lasts from four to seven seconds.

3. The reinstatement of the displaced field after its disap-
pearance. After normal vision has been recovered, the dis-
placed field may be brought back to consciousness at will with-
out the necessity of again subjecting the eyes to the original
stimulations. A mental decision involving a thought of the
objects and the reinstatement of the orbicular strain is the only
condition necessary to effect this result. Merely thinking of
the objects is not sufficient to produce the reinstatement. The
displaced field does not come back gradually but instantane-
ously. The subject had not been aware of her ability to recall
these positive after-images at will and first attempted it at my
suggestion. The results were so immediate and pronounced as
to startle her. The phenomenon is best described in the sub-
ject's own words : " No sooner had I willed than the displaced
images burst upon me in full bloom as though they had been
hidden behind a screen and this screen had been suddenly jerked
away." With the return of the displaced images, the eyes were
subjected to the various tests described above in order to deter-

372 HARVEY CARR.

mine their sensitivity. The eyes are now in exactly the same
condition of sensitivity as they were during the original dis-
placement. This voluntary alternation of the abnormal condi-
tion of the eyes and of normal vision may be successively pro-
duced in the same experiment apparently as many times as
desired. In one experiment the field was displaced more than
ninety degrees and projected against a background of new
objects. The subject was directed to hold the eyes as motion-
less as possible, to allow the displaced field to disappear until
distinct vision of the new background was secured, to call back
the displaced field so as to hide all vision of the new background
of objects and to alternate the two states as long as possible.
The two conditions were alternated six times in succession,
when the subject was compelled to stop through fatigue.
Apparently, fatigue is the only limitation on the possible dura-
tion of the phenomenon. In every case normal vision was
effected gradually while the abnormal condition was reinstated
immediately.

G. The visual field may be moved at will in a third dimen-
sional direction. The backward movement is effected by an
1 effortful feeling of expansion ' within the eyeball \ while a 'feel-
ing of contraction and relaxation ' in the same locality accom-
panies a forward direction of movement. During these move-
ments the same abnormal condition of sensitivity obtains as in
the case of the lateral displacements^ already described.

At the time when the lateral displacements were first noted
(seven years ago), third dimensional movements of the field
sometimes occurred involuntarily, especially under conditions
of fatigue or of prolonged fixation. By trial, it was found that
these movements were also subject to voluntary control. They
can be produced voluntarily much more easily and after a
shorter period of fixation than can the lateral displacements.

The field cannot be moved forward to a distance nearer than
five feet from the subject, but it can be removed to the apparent
distance of the horizon. Within these limits, the field can be

1The translocatory movements already described in the previous sections
will be termed hereafter 'lateral displacements,' in order to distinguish them
from these third dimensional movements.

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 373

moved and located at will. The images do not become double,
but are blurred to some extent and are rather confused in out-
line. With the backward direction of movement, the images
become slightly smaller, but the decrease in size does not seem
to be proportionate to the increase of distance according to the
laws of perspective. The decrease in size seems to be due to a
' melting away of the edges ' of the various images. In the re-
turn movement, the field is judged to have reached its real posi-
tion when the images attain to their maximum distinctness of
outline.

The movement can be effected with monocular vision, but
it occurs much more readily with the left eye than with the
right. On the return movement with the right eye, the field
does not move forward gradually but jumps back quickly in an
involuntary manner. The images grow less distinct and a trifle
smaller with the backward movements. The decrease in size
seems to be due to a * fading away of the edges.'

When the field is moved backward toward the horizon, the
subject experiences a ' feeling of expansion ' which is located
inside of the eyeballs directly back of the cornea. The forward
movements are accompanied by a * feeling of contraction ' in the
same locality. The feeling of expansion is described as effort-
ful, while the contractile feeling is accompanied by a sense of
relaxation.

At first it was supposed that these depth movements were
entirely distinct in nature from the displacement phenomenon,
and that they were another instance of that voluntary control of
the depth location of the visual field possessed by Miss Allen.1
This inference was not wholly correct. During a depth dis-
placement, the visual field may be displaced laterally, or it may
be moved in a third dimensional direction during a lateral trans-
location. During the prolonged tests on the lateral displace-
ments, the subject often lost control of the distance location of
the displaced field and it would suddenly recede from five to
ten feet. A series of experiments was performed in order to
test the sensitivity of the eye during the depth movements. If
anything, the eye is more insensitive during this phenomenon

2 PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. XIII., No. 4, pp. 258-275.

374 HARVEY CARR.

than it is with the lateral displacements. Various objects were
introduced into the range of possible vision, but they were not
perceived, nor did they affect the visual field in any way. A
lighted candle held at a distance of three feet directly in front
of the eyes did not even suffuse the distant field with a luminous
glow. When objects were removed from the field, the period
necessary for the disappearance of their images was longer than
in the case of the previous phenomenon. The movement of an
object in the field was not perceived, though the object was
finally seen in its new position. Objects re-introduced into the
field were perceived with extreme difficulty unless they were
brought back to their original positions. In the latter case the
image of the object is more intense and realistic, and it appears
to view in less time after the introduction of the stimulus.

The fact, however, that the moving visual field is of the
nature of a hallucinatory positive after-image, does not explain
the mechanism of its distance location. The lateral displace-
ments are due to head or eye movements, and the depth
changes must likewise be attributed to some factors just as in
the case of the distance location of any after-image, either pos-
itive or negative. Moreover, the changes must be due to fac-
tors over which the subject has direct voluntary control.
While this phenomenon is essentially different from that exhib-
ited by Miss Allen so far as the retinal sensitivity is concerned,
yet it is possible that the two cases are similar in respect to the
mechanism involved in this voluntary control over the depth
location of the visual imagery. In the case of Miss Allen, the
depth movements were conditioned by lenticular adjustments
which involved no convergent changes of the eyes. With the
present subject, no convergent movements occurred. This fact
supports the proposition previously enunciated as to the retinal
effectiveness of the stimulations from a primary field, for if the
eyes were totally free from the influence of the objects primarily
fixated, it is inconceivable that the convergence should remain
unaltered while the visual images are subject to such marked
changes in respect to depth location. As to the presence of
lenticular adjustments, no confident assertions can be made. I
was under the impression that lens changes occurred, but the

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 375

movements were so slight in extent that I could feel no absolute
confidence in the validity of the observations. The movements
were so small that it was impossible to detect whether a partic-
ular kind of adjustment was invariably correlated with each
direction of image movement. The small extent of the move-
ments present, in case the observed results are valid, is expli-
cable from the fact that the possible extent of the third dimen-
sional movements of the visual field was greatly diminished in
the dim illumination necessary to a phakoscopic examination.
The lack of clear-cut definite results, as in the case of Miss
Allen, does not disprove the lenticular theory ; neither do the
observations furnish indubitable proof that the depth displace-
ments are conditioned by appropriate adjustments of the lenses,
though they do support that theory to some extent. During
the displacements pupillary changes occur, but they are spas-
modic and irregular in character, no definite change being
invariably correlated with each direction of image movement.
The fact that the displaced images become blurred and confused
in outline in the third dimensional movements, but do not do so
during the lateral displacements, indicates the presence of lentic-
ular disturbances in the former case. The presence of muscular
feelings inside the eyeballs in the region of the lens may like-
wise be interpreted in favor of the theory. On the whole the
writer is disposed to believe that lenticular changes do occur
and condition the movements to some extent, though they may
not constitute the sole explanation of the phenomenon. The
possibility of other conditioning factors is a matter of speculation
and any such discussion is beyond the range of this paper.

The preceding account has purported to be as much as
possible a factual statement of the various experimental results
with little comment or theoretical digression. Some peculiar
aspects of the case deserve further consideration.

Such visual anaesthesias, wherein objective stimulations are
retinally effective and may indirectly influence consciousness,
occur with hysteria and may be induced by suggestion. So
far as the writer is aware, however, such anaesthetic retinal
areas do not subserve any objectified visual consciousness, as

376 HARVEY CARR.

with the present subject, unless hallucinatory images are
induced by suggestion. The hallucination and the insensi-
tivity seem to be a single phenomenon rather than two inde-
pendent events, for they invariably occur together. This is
seen from the fact that there is no stage of a total lack of visual
sense content intervening between normal vision and the abnor-
mal condition. When the displaced field is caused to disappear,
there is, it is true, an intermediary stage wherein the visual
field presents a uniform undifferentiated appearance. But this
is not a total blindness, for an objectified visual sense content is
present. When objects were removed from the field and their
displaced images were allowed to fade from view, no gap was
left devoid of all sense content. This close relation between
the presence of the hallucinatory field and the insensitivity,
and their relation to volition are matters for discussion. Three
theories may be conceived as to the relations involved :

1. The anaesthesia may be assumed to be directly subject to
volitional control, while the hallucination is an effect of the
anaesthesia. The first relation is conceivable for such anaes-
thesias can be induced by suggestion, but the second causal
nexus is hard to conceive and some facts' contradict the assump-
tion of any such invariable connection. An involuntary semi-
trance, involving a visual anaesthesia and a complete aboulia
has frequently occurred throughout the subject's life. This
visual anaesthesia generally involved a complete loss of all
sense content, *'. £., it did not produce an hallucination.

2. It may be supposed that the two phenomena are indepen-
dent events and are controlled by separate volitional processes,
but, since the two results cannot be separately initiated, it must
be assumed that each event is due to a particular process within
the whole volitional act, but that the two processes are so asso-
ciated that they cannot be even consciously separated. This
theory may be true for all that is known to the contrary, but it
is needlessly complex.

3. We may assume that the hallucination is volitionally con-
trolled, but that the presence of the hallucinatory images is the
cause of the anaesthesia. The second relation may be illustrated
by the following phenomenon : Let the light from a bright

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 377

window be reflected into the left eye by one's glasses. The
image of the window is now projected against the wall of the
room. If the right eye is closed, the wall back of the projected
image remains invisible in spite of all efforts to perceive it. The
stimulations from the wall enter the eye and reach the retina,
but vision is so dominated by the image of the bright window
that the stimulations from the wall fail to influence it effectively.
Likewise, it may be conceived that the hallucinatory activities
so dominate the visual centers that these latter are impervious to
the objective stimulations. The phenomenon is thus a matter
of visual rivalry. This conception is supported by the general
result enunciated in section C that the visual effect of any new
stimulation introduced varies with its intensity, extent, and dura-
tion, and also according to the brightness of the primary field,
t. e., the intensity of the hallucinatory field. In the volition
her attention is positively directed toward the visual images in
the reinstatement and maintenance of the hallucination, and it
neglects them in order to discontinue the state. This fact sup-
ports the view that volition deals directly with the hallucination
and that the insensitivity is a secondary by-product. The sup-
position may be further supported by the fact that the stimula-
tion of an old object is more effective when it is brought back
to its original location than when it is introduced into the field
in some new position. In the former case the image is more
vivid and realistic and is perceived in a shorter time after the
object is returned to the field. This result may be conceived as
due to the fact that the stimulation in any secondary position
comes into rivalry with a hallucinatory image of some other
object.

There is a real spatial translocation of the effects of retinal
stimulation in certain cases. This is illustrated in Fig. i.
Suppose that the eye momentarily fixates the object F> while C
is perceived in indirect vision. The points f and c are the
retinal areas stimulated by these objects. The eye is now
rotated upward until the optic axis is directed toward F' . The
stimulations from the objects F and C now meet the retina at
the points b and a respectively, while the images of those
objects are perceived in the positions F' and O '. These periph-

HARVEY CARR.

eral stimulations at a and b influence the brightness, duration,
location and existence of the visual images F' and C' which
should normally correspond to the retinal activity of the areas
f and c respectively. It is as if the effects of the stimulations
of a and b were transferred to the points c and f respectively.
What is true of these two stimulated areas is also true for all
retinal points. Thus every retinal area, c for example, trans-
fers the effects of its own stimulation to another area d, and in

FIG. i. F and C, objects in the field of vision ; Ff and O ', displaced
images of the objects F and C after the eye rotation ; n, nodal point; o, center
of rotation ; /, fovea ; f-o-n-F', optic axis after the rotation ; a, b, c, d, retinal
points.

return it receives the effects of the stimulation of the area a.
However this apparent * transference ' of the stimulation of one
area to a second retinal area occurs only for ' primary stimula-
tions/ /. e.y only for those objects occupying the original field
of vision. In the case of * secondary stimulations' — those
resulting from new objects introduced into the field of vision
after the displacement — there is at first an apparent retinal
* diffusion ' ; the results of the stimulation are diffused so as to
tinge appropriately the entire visual field. This diffusion is
minimized in extent in proportion to the duration and intensity
of the secondary stimulation.

As to the nature and mechanism of this * transference ' and

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 379

< diffusion ' several possibilities are open. It may be supposed
that the retinal space reference has been altered. Ordinarily
the image corresponding to the stimulation of a point b on the
retina is localized along a line running through this point and
the nodal point «, but this spatial reference of the retina may be
altered in certain conditions, e. £*., the partial paralysis of an
eye muscle. This conception is disproved by the fact that the
retina localizes normally in the case of a prolonged and inten-
sive secondary stimulation, although the transference of the
primary stimulations still obtains. While the conception might
explain the * transference phenomenon,' yet it is inadequate to
account for the ' diffusion of secondary stimulations.'

The phenomena may be supposed to be either retinal or
central affairs. In fact, they have been couched above in
retinal terms, but this was done merely for descriptive and not
explanatory purposes. Analogous results have been obtained
in experimental psychology. The irradiation phenomenon,
simultaneous contrast, etc., indicate that in normal experiences
the conscious effects of any retinal stimulation are not confined
wholly to the corresponding part of the visual field, but it is not
known whether this diffusion of results is centrally or retinally
conditioned. The question is further involved with the general
problem of the seat of hallucinatory activities, as to which there
is no unanimity of opinion. Consequently, there is no positive
evidence to be derived from other sources in favor of either con-
ception. So far as anatomical possibilities are concerned a
central location is preferable. The fact of voluntary control
over the existence and duration of the transference is more ex-
plicable in central terms. A statement of the facts, however,
in either retinal or central terms would do little but localize the
phenomenon. The mechanism and raison d'etre of the process
would still remain unintelligible.

The conception which seems most satisfactory to the writer
involves several propositions : (i) For all points #, 3, c on the
retina there are corresponding cortical areas A, B> C. The
habitual pathway of a retinal impulse from any point is to its
corresponding cortical area (Fig. 2). The course of any im-
pulse may be varied under certain conditions. It is not neces-

380 HARVEY CARR.

sary to assume that the spatial arrangement of the cortical areas
is in any way similar to that of their corresponding retinal points
although they have been represented in that manner in the figure
(2). The hallucinatory images of the displaced field are due

FIG. 2. a, b, ct retinal points ; A, B, C, cortical areas corresponding
respectively to a, d, c : Y, X, Z, displaced images due to activity of A, B , C,
respectively ; Z>, subcortical center.

mainly to cortical activities, and (3) these cortical activities are
so intensive and dominating that they interfere with the habitual
behavior of the incoming retinal impulses. These impulses be-
come blocked at the subcortical center D.

We will suppose that the eye perceives three objects, X, T
and Z, corresponding to the three neural processes represented
in the figure. The images of these objects are now displaced
by an eye movement, and a new object, V, is introduced into the
field so as to stimulate the retina at b. This retinal impulse is
checked at D, and hence a diffusion of the impulse occurs. If
the stimulation is weak, the effects are drafted off to lower
centers without conscious effect. A greater intensity of stimu-
lation gives a diffused effect over the entire visual areas. In
case the stimulation is very intense and prolonged, the retinal
impulse becomes strong enough to supplant some one of the
cortical activities. The impulse will traverse the line of least
resistance, and this will be along the habitual pathway b-D-B.
The object Fwill thus be localized in a normal manner. The
displacement of the images T and Z and the correct localization
of the new object V are thus possible.

As a result of the eye movement, the object JTnow stimu-
lates the retina at c instead of at a. This retinal impulse
becomes blocked at D because of the cortical activity of C
involved in the displaced image Z. This impulse will finally

CONTROL OF POSITION OF VISUAL FIELD. 381

break through the hallucinatory field at the point of least resist-
ance. With primary stimulations this point of least resistance
is not along the habitual pathway D-C, but it is at the
cortical area A involved in the displaced image Y. This area
A, being strongly excited centrally, forms an apperceptive
center highly susceptible to an appropriate stimulation. The
impulse from c is transferred to A by the subcortical center D.
This theory assumes that a psycho-cortical activity will block
an habitual path to impulses which would arouse qualitative dis-
similar responses in that center, while it will markedly increase
the susceptibility of that area to appropriate impulses. This
conception involves no new doctrine, for the same principle is
used to explain the selective character of apperceptive attention ;
central activities increase the mind's sensitivity to stimulations
of an appropriate character but decrease its susceptibility to all
other stimulations. Thus it is not necessary to posit the exist-
ence of a subconscious mind in order to explain the subject's
ability to react differently to the two kinds of stimulations.

The volitional control over the existence and duration of the
hallucinatory images is a noteworthy fact, for generally such
experiences possess all of the involuntary characteristics of per-
cepts. What causal relation the orbital strain bears to the exist-
ence of the abnormal state is a subject concerning which it is
idle to speculate. It is also rather curious that this abnormal
condition does not seem to be subject to suggestion in any way,
although it is so susceptible to volitional influences.

The subject of these experiences was under the writer's
observation for six months and the experimental work covered
a period of three months. Owing to the subject's susceptibility
to fatigue, it was impossible in this time to investigate the phe-
nomenon as thoroughly as desired. The case deserves further
study, as many interesting problems came up during the experi-
ments whose solution would certainly give a more compre-
hensive insight into the phenomenon.

The subject comes of a well-to-do and cultured family.
She is an only child and was reared in comparative isolation
from those of her own age. She has been much addicted to day
dreaming and she possesses an artistic, idealistic and sensitive

382 HARVEY CARR.

temperament. Her physical health has always been good. She
is physically well-developed, and her appearance gives every
indication of healthful bodily functioning. She has been sub-
ject all her life to short attacks involving visual anaesthesia and
aboulia. These attacks are congenital on the mother's side of
the family. She has often experienced other seizures involving
faintness and extreme physical weakness, with the presence of
only a dim vague consciousness. These attacks often leave the
subject in a very weak condition for some hours. Shortly before
the phenomenon described in this paper was first noticed, she
experienced a more profound attack resulting in some permanent
amnesias. The complete loss of auditory musical memory
incapacitated her for her vocation as a music teacher. Her
retentiveness for academic subjects was much impaired. She
is now extremely susceptible to fatigue. Her case was diag-
nosed by a competent nervous specialist who found that she was
unable to converge upon objects at a distance of less than eight
feet. She has been using a set of prisms to strengthen the in-
ternal recti muscles and finds that their constant use has had a
beneficial effect upon her mental ability.1

1 The MS. of this article was received October 15, 1907.

CONCERNING ANIMAL PERCEPTION.

BY PROFESSOR GEORGE H. MEAD,
University of Chicago.

1 wish to call attention to a phase of animal psychology
which has received, it seems to me, but inadequate treatment.
This inadequacy is evident not only in the general psycholo-
gies, but also in special experimental investigations of animal
intelligence. The difficulty gathers about the doctrine of per-
ception, and is due in part to the incomplete character of the
theory of perception in human psychology, and in part to a fail-
ure to analyze sufficiently the conditions of possible perception
in lower animal forms.

Can we draw a line between perception and higher cogni-
tive processes, leaving below the line a cognition which is not
rational though intelligent, such as characterizes the adaptations
of a crab or a rat, and placing above the line all the conscious-
ness of relation which makes human intelligence rational? Do
our own predominately perceptive processes, such as those of
rapidly climbing a steep, rocky cliff, or playing a game of
tennis, where we are seemingly unconscious of anything except
the physical environment and our reactions thereto, differ qual-
itatively from the more abstract processes in which we con-
sciously deal in symbols and isolate the relations of things ?

If these discursive processes are mere developments of con-
tents which are implicitly present in perceptual consciousness,
is there any definite line which can be drawn between the
intelligence of man and that of the lower forms, unless we deny
them the form of consciousness which we call perceptual in our-
selves? Hobhouse,1 for example, assumes that the cat, the
dog and the monkey, which he observed, apprehend perceptual
relations, which enabled them to learn by experience, without
the ability to isolate the relations as elements in thought.

Stout 2 would grant to the chick that learns to reject a cin-

*Mind in Evolution, p. 117.

2 Manual of Psychology, pp. 84 ff.

383

384 GEORGE H. MEAD.

nabar caterpillar, an « apprehension of meaning or significance,
which would come to the same thing. On the other hand,
Thorndyke l explains such learning by experience on the part
of lower animals through the association of an * impulse ' with a
stimulus, which seems to imply a qualitatively different state of
consciousness from that which would ordinarily be called per-
ceptual in human experience. He undertakes to illustrate this
by phases of human consciousness in which even perception
would be reduced to a minimum. This latter illustration indi-
cates a possibility of discrimination which seems to me to have
been but inadequately recognized. In learning to play billiards
or tennis, we are moving in a perceptual world, but the process
of improvement takes place largely below even the perceptual
level. We make certain movements which are more successful
than others, and these persist. We are largely conscious only
of the selection which has already begun. We emphasize this
and control to some extent the conditions under which the selec-
tion takes place, but the actual assumption of the better attitude,
the actual selection of the stroke, lies below even this level of
consciousness. Thorndyke calls this selection a process of
stamping in by the pleasure coming with success. This ex-
planation, however, calls for its own explanation and ascribes
active control to states of pleasure and pain, which is by no
means proved and opens up another field of dubious animal
psychology. Thorndyke calls the process of improvement an
association of an impulse and a stimulus, which lies quite out-
side of associations of ideas. The phrase is perhaps a vague
one, that calls for further specification, but it answers to a large
number of instances which are commonly conceived of as per-
ceptions by the animal psychologists, although it is to be pre-
sumed that Thorndyke himself assumes that these animals move
in a perceptual world. The instances to which I refer may be
well illustrated by the action of the chick in rejecting the cin-
nabar caterpillar or the orange-peel. Is there a revival of the
past experiences which leads the chick to reject these disagree-
able objects ; or may we assume that the impulse to reject has
become associated with this particular stimulus, without any in-
tervening redintegrated psychoses?

1 ' Animal Intelligence,' PSY. REV. MON. SUPPI,., Vol. II., No. 4, pp. 65 ff.

CONCERNING ANIMAL PERCEPTION. 385

This question is closely allied to that which arises with
reference to the plasticity of the young form and the manner in
which it acquires the specific habits which are not found per-
formed in its nervous system. A chick learns to make use of
the impulse to hide when a hawk sails overhead. A young fox
learns to run away from the odor of man. The process of hid-
ing and running away are indeed performed in these young
animals. It is the association of the instinctive action with
determinate stimuli which is acquired. What seems to take
place is this : The animal tastes a disagreeable morsel when it
instinctively strikes at a moving object before it. The action
of the flavor of the morsel upon the organs of taste sets free an
equally instinctive reaction of rejecting the morsel. At the
same time, the chick eyes the caterpillar under the excitement
of the disagreeable experience. Now the caterpillar hereafter
to be avoided must be different from a mere moving object such
as would have called forth the reaction of pecking. It is fair
to assume that the condition for this discrimination made by the
chick lies in the different reaction which it has called forth.
The mere redintegration of the experience would not protect
the chick. Either the chick would peck again, since presum-
ably the same bad taste and same rejection would follow,
simply reinforced by the revival of the past experience, and
this would bring about no improvement in adaptation ; or else
the past experience would be revived with the appearance of
the old stimulus. This stimulus was not a caterpillar with cer-
tain markings, but a moving object within reach. The revival
of the experience with this generalized stimulus to which, as
Lloyd Morgan's experiments show, the chick reacts, would
lead to the rejection, not of cinnabar caterpillars alone, but of
all moving objects within reach. The ability to distinguish
between stimuli which had been identical in their value before,
arises together with the new reaction, that of rejection. The
meaning of the plasticity of the young form seems to be that
there exist in the form instinctive reactions which have not as
yet determined external stimuli. Through the experience of
the animal the appropriate stimuli are determined. One condi-
tion, at any rate, is found in the new visual or olfactory expe-

386 GEORGE H. MEAD.

rience which arises when, for any reason, this new reaction
takes place. A dog's shrinking from the sight of the whip
involves not simply the revival of the painful experience of the
flogging ; it involves his reacting to characteristicts in the sight
of the whip which led to no reaction at first. It is not then so
much the association of an old visual or olfactory experience
with the .impulse, as the arising of a new visual or olfactory
experience which now becomes the stimulus for the particular
impulse or reaction. If there be association of ideal contents,
it is between this new visual or olfactory experience and the old
experience which had not as yet been discriminated ; of this
association, Mr. Thorndyke remarks,1 we have little or no evi-
dence. What we must assume, in what is implied above, is
that the animal gets the new visual or olfactory experience
because it is carrying out a new reaction ; that the ground for
discrimination in sensation lies in the difference of reaction to
that which is sensed, an assumption that is reinforced by the
recognition that the process of sensing is controlled and directed
by the reaction to the stimulus.

Now what is implied in perception is the association of the
new sensory experience with the old. If the chick perceives a
caterpillar as a * thing,' he may associate the former experience
of pecking at a thing with the new experience of rejecting the
peculiarly marked thing. But evidence for such an association
in the case of the chick certainly is lacking. What has appeared
in its conduct is a new stimulus of a visual character for a per-
formed reaction, which up to this and other like experiences had
no determined visual stimulus.

The question then arises, what are the conditions for the
appearance of this permanent core to which varying sensory
elements may be associated? It is impossible to appeal directly
to the introspective analysis of human perception. We cannot
get inside the consciousness of the lower forms. It is, however,
possible to find in our own experience of physical objects what
constitutes this core which endows it with its Thinghood, and
investigate the conduct and sensory equipment of these forms,
with a view to determining whether their experience can also
contain this identical core to which varying phases of the same

lLoc. tit.

CONCERNING ANIMAL PERCEPTION. 387

object can be referred. Stout1 finds this core in what he terms
' manipulation,' understanding by this any contact experiences
which arise as the result of visual stimuli, such as the hearing,
scratching, pulling, shoving, as well as our actual handling of
what we see. This he illustrates by the visual experience of a
hole to which an animal is fleeing and which answers to an
experience of contact, that enables the animal to determine
whether the opening is passable.

If this distinction be carried out somewhat further, we find
that the sensory experiences of animal life may be divided into
two categories : those that come through what may be called
the distance sense organs, the visual, olfactory and auditory
senses, and those that come through the contact sensations.
The distinction suggested by Stout's use of the term « manipula-
tion ' is that intelligent conduct, when it reaches the stage of
perception, implies a reference of what comes through the dis-
tance sensations to contact sensation. There is perhaps nothing
inherent in contact experiences which accounts for their being
the substantial element in perception — that to which, so far as
physical, i. £., perceptual, experience goes, all other experience
is referred. Visual discriminations are much finer and more
accurate than those of manipulation. The auditory and olfactory
experience are richer in emotional valuations. But it remains
true that our perception of physical objects always refers color,
sound, odor, to a possibly handled substrate, a fact which was
of course long ago recognized in the distinction between the so-
called primary and secondary senses.

The ground of this is readily found in the nature of animal
conduct, which, in so far as it is overt can be resolved into move-
ments, stimulated by the distance senses, ending up in the attain-
ment or avoidance of certain contacts. Overt food, protective,
reproductive, fighting processes, all are made up of such move-
ments toward or away from possible contacts, and the success
of the conduct depends upon the accuracy with which the dis-
tance stimulation leads up to appropriate contacts. Consciously
intelligent conduct within the perceptual field lies in the estimate
of the sort of contact to which distance sensory stimulates the
animal form, that is the conscious reference of experience result-
lLoc. cit., pp. 326 ff.

388 GEORGE H. MEAD.

ing from the stimulation of the eye, the ear, the olfactory tracts,
even the skin, by the movement of the air, etc., to the contacts
which this stimulation tends to bring about.

The vast importance of the human hand for perception
becomes evident when we recognize how it answers to the eye,
especially among the distance senses. The development of
space perception follow in normal individuals upon the interac-
tion of the eye and the hand, and this interaction works a con-
tinual meeting of the discriminations of the eye by those of the
skin, mediated through the manipulating hand. It is this con-
tact experience which gives the identical core to which the
contents coming from the distance senses are referred in the so-
called process of complication. It is this core which answers
to varying experiences while it remains the same. It is this
core which is a conditio sine qua non of our perception of phys-
ical objects. Of course this content of contact experience is
supplied by the process of association or complication out of
past experience in most of our perceptions. The objects about
us look hard or soft, large or small. But the reference is
always there.

There are two respects in which the contact experiences of
lower animal forms are inferior to those of man for the purposes
of perception. The organs of manipulation are not as well
adapted in form and function for manipulation itself, and, in
the second place, the contact experiences of lower animals are,
to a large extent, determined, not by the process of manipula-
tion, but are so immediately a part of eating, fighting, repose,
etc., that it is hard to believe that a consciousness of a * thing'
can be segregated from these instinctive activities.

To develop this second point a little further, we need only
to recall what has been brought out by Dewey1 and Stout2 that
perception involves a continued control of such an organ as that
of vision by such an organ as that of the hand, and vice versa.
We look because we handle, and we are able to handle because
we look. Attention consists in this mutual relationship of con-
trol between the processes of stimulation and response, each
directing the other. But while this control is essential to per-
ception, perception itself is neither eating, fighting, nor any
-1 PSYCHOI,. REVIEW, III., p. 359. 2 Loc. cit.

CONCERNING ANIMAL PERCEPTION. 389

other of the organic activities which commence overtly with
stimulation and end with the response. On the contrary, per-
ception lies within these activities, and represents a part of the
mechanism by which these activities are carried out in highly
organized forms. Perception is a process of mediation within
the act ; and that form of mediation by which the possible con-
tact value of the distance stimulation appears with that stimula-
tion, in other words, a mediation by which we are conscious of
physical things. The actual eating, fighting or resting, etc.,
are not mediations within the act, but the culminations of the
acts themselves. We could not perceive bread as a physical
thing if that cognitive state grew out of the presentation of the
mastication and taste which constitute eating. We perceive
what we masticate, what we taste, etc., except in so far as we
may perceive, through their movements, our various organs, as
things.

The great importance of the human hand for perception lies
in the fact that it is essentially mediatory within the organic
acts out of which the physiological process of life is made up.
The presentation of a physical thing which must be made up
out of the contacts necessary to the actual processes of eating
or those of locomotion cannot offer as fruitful a field for the
growth of perception as those which are based upon the medi-
ations of the hand within the act. And the contents of contact
experience which a mouth or the paws can present must be
very inadequate, for just that function of correspondence be-
tween the elements of the retinal and the tactual experience out
of which the physical world of normal perception arises.

To assume that a chick can find in the contact of its bill
together with those of its feet the materials that answer to the
perception of a physical thing is almost inconceivable. Even
the cat and the dog must find in their paws or mouths, fash-
ioned seemingly for the purposes, not of ' feeling things,' but
of locomotion or tearing and masticating, but a minimum of
that material which goes into the structure of our perceptions.
In the case of the monkey the question arises whether the func-
tion of locomotion is so dominant in use of the so-called hands
that that of * feeling ' can be isolated out of the monkey's con-
tact experiences to build up perception.

39° GEORGE H. MEAD.

Finally, to recur to the difficulties inherent in the doctrine
of perception referred to at the opening of this paper, the assump-
tion of a perception of things, that is, of what is mediatory in
experience, carries with it the essence certainly of reasoning,
i. £.,the conscious use of something — a certain type of experi-
enc.e — for something else, another type of experience. Every
perceived thing is in so far as perceived a recognized means to
possible ends, and there can be no hard and fast line drawn
between such perceptual consciousness and the more abstracted
processes of so-called reasoning. Any form that perceives is
in so far carrying on a process of conscious mediation within its
act and conscious mediation is ratiocination.1

1 The MS. of this article was received September 18, 1907. — KD.

A STUDY IN VERTICAL SYMMETRY.

BY ELEANOR HARRIS ROWLAND.

It is obvious to anyone who looks at a series of pictures,
landscapes especially, giving particular attention to the position
of the horizon line, that he usually finds that line just above or
just below the center, seldom at the extreme boundaries of the
picture and almost never at the center itself. The question
naturally arises, Is there any reason for this uniformity of
choice and would the same conditions and demands hold good
if reduced to the simplicity of an experiment ? The following
is an account of an inquiry into the choices made by eleven ob-
servers of divisions of a rectangular space, and an analysis of
their methods of apperception.

To test the question the following apparatus was used : A
black, rectangular picture-frame, with an opening 33 by 25 cm.
had a black background placed behind, with light gray fore-
grounds of graded widths placed before it.

In the second series the background was gray and the fore-
grounds were black. These foregrounds were numbered from
I. to XI. No. VI. measured 12^ cm. filling exactly half the
opening while the others graded both ways at intervals of 2 cm.

The method of procedure was to start with the widest gray
foreground and to exhibit all the sizes down to the narrowest,,
and back again, against the black background. Then the ob-
server was asked to tell where she liked to have the dividing
line come, and, if possible, to tell why she liked it that way.
The same question was asked with the second series.

Out of eleven observers in Series I., four preferred to see
the dividing line just below the center, or the No. V. card;
two wanted the division just above the center, or the No. VII.
card; two chose IV., while VIII., IX. and III. were each
chosen by one person. In Series II. three observers chose No.
V., two preferred IV., two VII. and two IX., while III. and
XI. had each one vote.

391

392 ELEANOR HARRIS ROWLAND.

The largest group, then, preferred a division just below the
central line ; another group preferred varying points slightly
above the central line, while choices of the extreme divisions of
II. and III. or X. and XI. were rare and those for equal divi-
sion entirely absent.

The attention of the observers was called to this fact, and
they were asked why they did not choose the central division.
The almost uniform answer was, that when it was divided
evenly they did not * see it as a picture/ it was * too flat and
uninteresting.'

This testimony brought several things to light : (i) That
with no comment on the part of the experimenter they had been
taking the empty cards * as pictures ' ; (2) that the very unequal
division resisted their efforts to see it as a picture and therefore
it was not chosen ; (3) that with the equally divided space it
apparently did not occur to them to * see it as a picture ' at all.
Just as the slightly unequal spaces had naturally become land-
scapes, snow-scenes or sea-views, so did the equally divided
space simply look like two equal cards. This change of apper-
ception for the equal division was uniform, although none could
give a reason why she had changed except that the equal cards
* didn't look like anything.'

The next questions put to them were :

1. Can you see the equally divided space, and the very un-
equal divisions as pictures and those formerly seen as pictures,
as cards — that is, can the apperception be varied at will?

2. Is there any difference between the two modes of per-
ceiving, except the presence or absence of associations?

3. Does your feeling-tone vary with this change of apper-
ception ?

4. Do you find it more difficult to vary your perception one
way than the other?

5. Exactly what do you consciously do to change your
apperception?

The answers to some of the questions were uniform, but the
introspection varied in others. All of the obervsers found that
they could vary their apperception at will, and that such varia-
tion not only supplied or deprived the cards of associative value,

A STUDY IN VERTICAL SYMMETRY. 393

but made them look deep or Jlat. When seen as a picture the
background retreated, more or less according to the division
(their favorite division usually had the greatest depth of any)
but when seen simply as cards, the background moved front or
the foreground back, to make a plane surface.

Their feeling-tone varied with this change of view, so that
three liked the equal division, if they forgot it was equal and
saw it as something else.

Most of them had more difficulty in changing the appercep-
tion for the very unequal divisions, but with practice they could
also modify these at will.

The most interesting introspection came however on the last
question, where despite their difference in expression, there was
some agreement as to their difference in fixation point in the
two cases.

When looking at the cards as at a picture, the attention was
more centered, either on the dividing horizontal line or exactly
above or below it, but always on the median axis. They looked
from this point to other parts of the surface, but always turned
back to the same central point. When, however, they looked
at the divided space simply as cardboards, it at once became
flat and unaccented. One observer said that she saw it much
more impartially, looking not only at the median axis or the
division line, but also around the edges and the frame. An-
other, when seeing it without picture associations, described her
attention as following several parallel lines across the space,
the division line or the central axis being no more important
than the others. Another looked up and down impartially
along vertical lines, never resting at the center. Several ob-
servers spoke of seeing the edges of the cards in the flat apper-
ception, which they had not noticed when seeing the cards as
pictures. One observer felt that her fixation for the picture ap-
perception was at a point in the middle of the division line,
behind the card, as if she were looking at a distant point, but
the simple card perception meant aimless travelling along the
division line over the surface and edges.

It would seem from these introspections from eleven regular
observers (and essentially similar results were obtained from a

394 ELEANOR HARRIS ROWLAND.

class of forty all observing at once) that a rectangular space
divided into equal halves by a horizontal line, tends to be taken
as flat, as free from varied associations and without strong cen-
tral accent, and it has thereby very little the * picture ' charac-
ter. On the other hand, the slightly unequal division lends
itself to apperception of depth, and consequently to associations
and to being taken as a picture. Doubtless the observers were
influenced in their association by the fact that most pictures have
the latter type of division, but the question still remains — Why
do they?

It is interesting in this connection, that two observers liked
the equal division very much, but did not want it framed. That
is, their attention not being bound to a central point, wandered
at large over the surface, and felt cramped by the frame. This
suggests a possible reason why we do not, as a matter of fact,
frame geometrical designs, however satisfactory they may be
in themselves. In geometric designs, which are usually
strongly symmetrical, both bilaterally and vertically, however
much a central point may be indicated, we do not take it as a
center of interest. Our attention is more or less impartial, it
extends with equal interest to the edges, and is better satisfied
by a repetition of itself than by a frame. Its out-going activity
demands continuance of its design, while the in-going tendency
of the picture requires exactly the reverse.1

1 The MS. of this article was received June 30, 1907. — ED.

LOGICAL COMMUNITY AND THE DIFFERENCE OF
DISCERNIBLES.

BY PROFESSOR J. MARK BALDWIN,
Johns Hopkins University.

In certain of our discussions1 we have reached positions
which involve the recognition of the intent of judgment to
hold for more than one individual. We have given to this aspect
of meaning the name of ' community/ We may now gather
together the positions taken up in various connections, and show
certain of their larger bearings.

1. In the first place, it appears that the process ordinarily
known as generalization in logic is one in which a common
meaning arises, that is, a meaning in community. The general
meaning not only applies to each of the particulars under it,
but it also holds for different individuals. The general-particu-
lar relationship remains the same whether the different cases
that serve as particulars be observed by one individual or by
many. This case is the one covered in logic by the theory of
* extension.' Certain variations upon it arise when we take
explicitly the point of view of the community of the meaning.

2. Second, we find certain peculiarities attaching to the
meaning rendered as * singular/ When only one object is
meant, such an object can be made subject-matter of judg-
ment only from the point of view of community, not from the
point of view of the extension of the objective class — although
this is the construction given it by formal logic, which con-
siders it a universal of a class of one ! A single object can be
generalized only from the point of view of the process that in
some manner distinguishes in it different instances or particu-
lars. This occurs in two ways, both of which show the abso-
lute necessity of recognizing the character of community in
logic.

xln Thought and Things, or Genetic Logic, Vol. II., "Experimental
IvOgic," of which this article constitutes a section (in Chap. xiv.).

395

396 /. MARK BALD WIN.

The first of these is that in which the one single object is
actually experienced by different -persons, as for instance, the
* falling' of a star. If we disregard those aspects of meaning
wherein the single object may also be one of a class — then there
is left over only that aspect wherein it is a single object to dif-
ferent persons. We have elsewhere shown how by processes of
4 secondary conversion ' * between different minds this meaning
arises. The point to consider here is this : such a meaning can
become logical — in the sense of having different cases to serve
as basis of generalization — only if different experiences of one
object can play the role of experiences of different objects : that
is, only if comvmmity of experience takes the place of extensive
quantity. The experiences of different minds furnish the differ-
ences which become particulars under a general. The identity
of a singular — say, for example, the identity of the shooting star
seen by different observers — can be rendered in a judgment only
through the generalization of the appearances to these observers,
whereby the event is pronounced the same for all of them. This
is a movement in community, or in a mode that preserves the
force of community.

We may say, therefore, at this point, that, but for the
aspect of community attaching to judgment, the logical render-
ing of a singular -would be impossible.

The other case of the rendering of a singular, seeing its
great importance, may be placed under a separate heading.

3. A third case is that of the meaning attaching to a single
object when experienced by a single person only ; in what sense
can such a meaning be rendered in terms of general and par-
ticular, and so become subject-matter of judgment?

Here also it is evident that there is no general meaning in
extensive quantity. The meaning is a singular because of the
mark or group of marks which prevent its generalization with
other objects in a class. How then can we judge such an object
the same, and expect others, if and when they do experience
it, to agree with us? — or not experiencing it, still to accept our
report of it?

Here again we have an evident resort to community. If we

1 See Thought and Things, Vol. I., Chap, iv., \ 5.

THE DIFFERENCE OF DISCERNIBLES. 397

consider the generalization in the instance just discussed above
— that of one object seen by different observers — to proceed
upon differences in experiences, the object being found identical
through the differences of its appearances to the different ob-
servers, then the recognition of community gives us the same
result here. Judgment in community renders meaning as hold-
ing for different personal acts of judgment; and the require-
ments of the case are met as well, and in precisely the same
way, when recurrent experiences of one person are substituted
for different experiences of more than one. There arises what
we may well call a * general of recurrence.' In both cases,
the generalization proceeds upon the commonness of the various
constructions of the meaning, whether these be experiences in
one mind or in many. The process whereby the meaning of
* sameness ' attaches to an object is the same whether the recur-
rences of the meaning thus identified as the same be in one mind
or in more ; for there is either actual reference,1 or the presupposi-
tion of it, from one experience to another in both cases alike.
We reach, then, the striking result that a judgment of singular
identity is one that may arise by the generalization of successive
experiences in one mind, and this generalization is read in com-
munity as equally valid for other minds. That is, we again
come to the conclusion that a judgment of singular identity is
possible on the basis of a single person's recurrent experience ;
and that it is a judgment in community, having the force of com-
monness for all thinkers alike. But for the character of com-
munity, however, such a judgment would be impossible; for
there is no guarantee, apart from the intent of community, that
the individual's identification of the object through recurrent
experiences is socially available.

The cases now interpreted show clearly just what the intent
of community really is. It is the implication, in the rendering
of an identical meaning by any one person, of other persons'
judgment whoever they may be. It rests upon the fact, which
we have studied in detail, that such a judgment of identity is
one of recurrent2 experiences, whether the objects experienced

1 Reference of the sort called 'conversion' in my Vol. I; see the last noteabove.
2 ' Recurrent, ' that is, in the general sense of duplicated or plural, not
necessarily successive.

/. MARK BALDWIN.

be one or many, and whether the observers is one or many.
The intent of community therefore is essential to judgment and
is independent of variations in the other characters, especially
of variations in extension.

This result appears in an interesting light when we view the
three cases mentioned in the reverse order. If we take a judg-
ment of a single individual's recurrent experience of one object
as given, we may ask what it involves besides his personal
belief. The first additional element of the meaning is found to
be that this person expects his judgment to be confirmed by any
one else who may experience the object. That is, the community
intent is one that allows the substitution of another's personal
experiences for one's own, or the intercalation of that person's
experience in the series of one's own as in all respects equivalent
to one's own. This carries over the meaning to the case men-
tioned second above — that of an object experienced by different
observers.

Another implication then appears. Whenever occasions
arise in which a judgment of identity in recurrence fails to
establish itself, the experiences are read as different objects;
that is, a generalization in extension takes place, whether or no
there actually be more objects than one. The individual re-
marks, * I did not recognize you — I took you for a different
man.' This is precisely the same result as if different individ-
uals had disagreed in their several reports of the one object.
The judgment such individuals would reach after conference is
that there are two objects of the same class, and this is the
result the one person reaches on the basis of recurrence. The
step now taken is that whereby the single individual's treatment
of recurrent experiences of one object is logically equivalent to
the ordinary generalization by one or more persons of different
particular objects. But this holds entirely and only within the
mode of community, since objectively there is but the one
object.

We here come upon a principle which may be formulated
alongside a celebrated historical dictum, the * identity, or
sameness, of indiscernibles.' While usually associated with
the name of Leibnitz, on account of his use of it in his theory of

THE DIFFERENCE OF DISCERNIBLES. 399

* monads/ it has been formulated in somewhat different senses
by various thinkers.1 We might describe it in Hegelian terms
as the principle of the * oneness of the many,' and set over
against it a principle to be called the « difference of discernibles '
or the ' manyness of the one.' In the terms of our present
analysis, the * identity of indiscernibles ' means in principle
that in the absence of discernible difference two or more ob-
jects are judged to be one and the same in recurrent experi-
ence. It is evident that we have here the process of individu-
ating as one, objects which do not give experience of difference.
This is, therefore, just the case we have pointed out as gener-
alization in community and not in extension. The experiences
may be anybody's or everybody's ; they are rendered in a judg-
ment of singular identity. The experiences of different objects
are really equivalent to those resulting from the recurrence of
one.

The same movement is capable, on our principles, of pre-
cisely the reverse reading — the reading formulated in the
phrase * difference of discernibles.' A single object is ren-
dered, by reason of differences discerned in its several appear-
ances, as more than one. The experience passes from that form
in which a single object is found to recur to one mind, and also
from that in which it appears as one to different minds, to that
in which its several cases have marks of difference which forbid
the individuation as one object.

The principle of * identity of indiscernibles,' when psycho-
logically interpreted, expresses the movement in community
whereby like experiences of more than one object may yield an
object identified as one ; while that of the ' difference of discern-
ibles ' expresses the movement also in community whereby
unlike experiences of one object may lead to its determination
as more than one.2

Leibnitz, Monadologie, 9, and Nouveaux essais, II., chap. 27, $ i ff. For
citations from other authors see Eisler, Worterbuch d. philos. Begriffe^ Art.
Identitatis indiscernibilium.

2 The epistemological bearings of these principles are reserved for treat-
ment in the later volume. Here it may be suggested, however, that all gen-
eralization illustrates the « identity of indiscernibles ' and all singularization
illustrates the ' difference of discernibles.' For generalization summarizes the

400 j. MARK BALDWIN.

In brief, any judgment, by reason of its community of intent,
may be read in any one of three ways : as meaning (i) more
than one object, appearing to one person or many ; (2) one object
only, appearing to one person or many ; or (3) one object
only, appearing to one person only. The process of generali-
zation as such, considered as a summarizing of likenesses in
recurrent experience, can in nowise determine which of these
three the actual meaning is to be. A paranoiac declares that
everybody is persecuting him, because he generalizes recurrent
experiences as all fit to excite his fear of others ; he is working
under the principle of * identity of indiscernibles.' At the other
extreme we may cite the individual we call ' subjective,' who
sees always in our conduct, however uniformly kind, new and
varied signs of change. He in turn is magnifying the * differ-
ence of discernibles.' The actual force in any case of normal
judgment is determined by the control factor, the coefficients of
fact which limit the meaning. The paranoiac's constructions do
not allow the control that the actual differences in his attendants'
action should secure ; the uniform tide of his fear obliterates
these differences. Nor are those of the * subjective ' man con-
trolled in the larger meaning of kindliness that pervades the
variety of our acts. In his case, the pebbles of variety choke
the tide of sameness. Both are abnormal in that the actual
facts do not get in their proper work.1

aspects of meaning in which objects are indistinguishable or identical, and singu-
larization fixes those aspects in which each object is discernibly different from
all others. We now see that this latter process, the logical rendering of the
singular, explicitly requires the intent of community, a result which shows the
radical role played by the common or social factor in all the processes of thought.
1 It is interesting to note that there are forms of speech in which meanings
based on the recurrent appearances of objects are recognized, whether such ap-
pearances are to one person or many. Propositions in which the predicate is
modified by the words ' sometimes,' 'often,' 'always,' etc., may embody this
meaning. ' This woman is always vain ' is a universal in appearance ; it is quanti-
fied in community ; just as ' women are always vain,' equivalent to ' all women are
vain,' has universal quantity in extension. Propositions in ' sometimes ' are par-
ticular in community (as ' this woman is sometimes vain ') or in extension (as
4 women are sometimes vain'), or in both (as 'some women are sometimes vain').
This sort of proposition rendering variety of appearances, which change with time
and circumstance, has been said by certain logicians to have multiple quantifica-
tion (see Johnson in Mind, 1902, on 'The Logical Calculus,' and Keynes,
Formal Logic, sect. 70). The name is a good one, since the two aspects of

THE DIFFERENCE OF DISCERNIBLES. 401

I have also found reason, in the detailed discussions from
which this statement is extracted, to distinguish two modes
within the meaning of community. Community ' for whom ' —
the intent of a judgment to hold for many individuals as for one
— is correlated with community * by whom ' — the further in-
tent to suggest that the meaning may not be universally preva-
lent or catholic as a fact, but may be actually held by a certain
number only. It is evident that what has been said in the dis-
cussion above about generalization in community, holds, in the
first instance, of community * for whom.' The question may
be asked whether the other sort of community, that of catho-
licity, the relative commonness of the content as actually held
in different minds, has any logical role.

There are meanings, and of course forms of speech fitted to
express them> which not only recognize the recurrence of ap-
pearances, as basis of the predication made, but also the limi-
tation of these appearances to a restricted number of persons.
For example, the propositions * there are observations that indi-
cate that Mars is inhabited,' and ' Mr. Lowell holds that Mars is
inhabited/ have both these shades of meaning. The reference
to a plurality of observers may indeed be the more emphatic ele-
ment as in the proposition, ' as to the truth of evolution there is
wide agreement among biologists.' Of course, every one would
admit that such meanings can be expressed, it is a very differ-
ent thing to say that such an intent is always present in the
judgment. But if we are right in holding that a problematical
shading of meaning attaches to all judgments when they are
actually current ; that all judgment intends personal belief,
which is expressed in order to silence doubt or extend convic-
tion ; in short, that all judgment has an experimental and in-
strumental force — then here in this mode of community we
should find its variations. Probably, as a matter of fact, the

meaning do both render quantity ; but it is hard to see how the quantification
due to recurrent appearances of one object can be brought under the ordinary
logical doctrine of quantity in extension. If we recognize, however, the recur-
rent appearances of one object to one mind or more as psychologically equiva-
lent to the recognitian of a plurality of different objects, for the purposes of
generalization, then in this movement which gives what I call 'community ' the
additional mode of quantity arises.

402 /. MARK BALD WIN.

majority of cultivated people, if asked whether evolution is true,
would say in effect, ' yes, most of the best biologists accept it/
The ground of personal acceptance here seems to be relative
prevalence and the explicit recognition of this in such a judg-
ment as that last cited, brings out the presupposition of the mode
of community * by whom ' in the simple judgment of truth.
Often the conditions of the appearance of the object or event
to which the proposition refers require a meaning in catholicity.
4 Shooting stars are often red,' * sea-serpents have no fins,' 'the
moon is made of green cheese/ are propositions that require
this presupposition. They mean to report a certain degree of
prevalence of the opinion, observation, or belief, which the
proposition renders, as well as to cite a number of illustrative
cases or appearances. These variations in prevalence or rela-
tive catholicity constitute a further sort of quantification.

The implication made in respect to prevalence varies from
the singularity of the opinion or judgment rendered as private,
to the universality of an appeal, let us say, to the catholicity of
« common sense.' Between these lies the particular quantity
of a proposition which renders the common judgment of a limited
group.

The three modes of quantity therefore that may attach
to judgments are (i) quantity in extension (as in ' men are
sometimes irritable '), (2) quantity in community * for whom ' or
'community of appearance' (as in 'John is sometimes irri-
table ') and (3) quantity in community ' by whom ' or in catholicity
(as in « we all find John irritable ').

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