THE
Psychological Review
™
EDITED BY
J. MARK BALDWIN
HOWARD C. WARREN
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY
JOHN B. WATSON
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY
JAMES R. ANGELL, UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO {Editor Psychological Monograph:').
WITH THE CO-OPERATION FOR THIS SECTION OF
A. C. ARMSTRONG, WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY ; C. M. BAKEWELL, YALE UNIVERSITY ;
ALFRED BINET, ECOLE DES HAUTES-ETUDES, PARIS; W. L. BRYAN, INDIANA UNIVER-
SITY ; WILLIAM CALDWELL, McGiLL UNIVERSITY ; MARY W. CALKINS, WELI.ESLEY
COLLEGE; JOHN DEWEY, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY; C. LADD FRANKLIN, BALTIMORE; H.
N. GARDINER, SMITH COLLEGE ; G. M. STRATTON, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ; P. JA-
NET, COLLEGE DE FRANCE; JOSEPH JASTROW, UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN; C. H. JUDD,
UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO ; ADOLF MEYER, JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY ; C. LLOYD MOR-
GAN, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, BRISTOL; HUGO M0NSTERBERG, HARVARD UNIVERSITY; E.
A. PACE, CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY, WASHINGTON ; R. M. WENLEY, UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.
Volume XVL, 1909.
THE REVIEW PUBLISHING CO.,
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P7
v (Is
PRESS OF
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CONTENTS OF VOLUME XVI.
January
A Study of Galvanometric Deflections due to Psycho-physiological Processes. II.
BORIS SIDIS and H. T. KALMUS, i.
The Nervous Correlate of Attention. II. M. MEYER, 36.
The Waning of Consciousness under Chloroform. E. E. JONES, 48.
Truth and Agreement. J. E. BOODIN, 55.
March
Toward the Correction of Some Rival Methods in Psychology : President's Address.
G. M. STRATTON, 67.
The Proper Affiliation of Psychology— with Philosophy or with the Natural
Sciences : President's Address. J. MACBRIDE STERRETT, 85.
Analysis of Simple Apprehension. W. H. SHELDON, 107.
Esthetic Imagery. H. HEATH BAWDEN, 124.
Editorial Announcements, 142.
May
The Influence of Charles Darwin upon Historical and Political Thought. ARTHUR
TWINING HADLKY, 143.
The Influence of Darwin on Psychology. JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL, 152.
Darwin and Logic. J. E. CREIGHTON, 170.
The Influence of Darwin on Sociology. CHARLES A. ELLWOOD, 188.
Darwin and Evolutionary Ethics. JAMES H. TUFTS, 195.
The Influence of Darwin on Theory of Knowledge and Philosophy. J. MARK
BALDWIN, 207.
July
Visual Illusions of Depth. H. A. CARR, 219.
Muscle Reading : A Method of Investigating Involuntary Movements and Mental
Types. JUNE E. DOWNEY, 257.
Editorial Announcement, 302.
September
Time-relations of the Affective Processes. TAIZO NAKASHIMA, 303.
A Note on the Accuracy of Discrimination of Weights and Lengths. E. L. THORN-
DIKE, 340.
A Range of Information Test. G. M. WHIPPLE, 347.
Resistance of Keys as a Factor in Reaction Times. J. V. BREITWIESER, 352.
Editorial Announcement, 362.
November
Some Experiments on the Color Perceptions of an Infant and their Interpretation.
HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY, 363.
On Ocular Nystagmus and the Localization of Sensory Data during Dizziness.
EDWIN B. HOLT, 377.
Mental Diagnosis by the Association Reaction Method. P. G. HENKE and M. W.
EDDY, 399.
Binocular Rivalry. B. B. BREESE, 410.
Minor Studies from the Psychological Laboratory of Wellesley College : Communi-
cated by ELEANOR A. McC. GAMBLE.
I. Intensity as a Criterion in Estimating the Distance of Sounds. ELEANOR
A. McC. GAMBLE, 416.
II. The Perception of the Distance of Sounds. DANIEL STARCH, 427.
Discussion : Darwinism and Logic : A Reply to Professor Creighton. J. MARK
BALDWIN, 431.
N. S. VOL. XVI. No. i.
January, 1909.
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS
DUE TO PSYCHO-PHYSIOLOGICAL
PROCESSES. II.
BY BORIS SIDIS, PH.D., M.D.,
Brookline, Mass.,
AND H. T. KALMUS, PH.D.,
Instructor in Physics, Mass. Institute of Technology.
The following are some of the results obtained :
TABLE I.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. B.
Galvanometer
Galvanometer
Readings.1 Stimulus.
Readings. Stimulus.
22. IO
" 2O.2O
22.10
4] 2O.2O
•
10
51 20.20
10
ja " 20.20 «— Difficult calcula-
; <— Sudden question :
22. 10 When did your
o 20.20 tion.
55 20.20
20 father die ?
- 20.20
30 ( Intense emotion. )
20.20
20.20
40
20.20 «— Slight start by sud-
5°
£
20.30 den sound.
00
40
60
45
60
45
22.55
40
50
30
45
30
40
3°
30
30
20
20.30^
22.00
22.30
22.00
30
22.00
30
22.00
; «— Laughter.
1 AH readings ia tkis ami smbse^ue»t tables are i» cemtimeters. H«riz«ntal
limes imdieate the emi *f the experimr M t .
I
BORIS SID IS AND H. T. KALMUS.
Galvanometer
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Readings.
Stimulus.
22.40
24.80
50
85
22.6o
90
70
95
80
25.00
70
00
60
24-95
50
90
40
85
22.35
80
22.30
75
22.30
70
24.80
7°
24.70
80
•
80
•
80
15.40
1 <— iPinch.
40
40
90
95
: <—
Pin prick.
25.00
45
25.10
50
10
55
05
60
25.00
65
95
70
90
75
85
80
80
80
80
70
24.80
65
60
I
55
15-35
50
35
45
&) ' 4— I^ooked at pictures.
15-45
r^ *
& f 22'3°
f 35
o 22.30
o
rt J
55 35
35
11
O
55 I 22.30
Thinking of being
pricked.
• 35
24-75
«J f 2I'45
75
M 21.45
75
oj J 45
•a 1 .
75
o : <-
Thinking of fath-
; 4— Pinch.
* L 21.45
er's recent death.
A STUDY OF GALVANOMBTRIC DEFLECTIONS.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
• r 21.45
22.OO
bO 45
•
'JO
J . 45 «— Recalling dream
of seeing dead
£ father.
I <- Burnrwith lighted
10 cigarette. (Very
20 painful. )
*• 21.45
3<>
21.45
40
45
50
60
1 «— Imagines pleasant
70
21.45 experience.
80
21.45
90
45
80
; «— Slight laughter.
70
50
60
60
50
70
22.40
80
'.
90
Galv. dropping.
22.00
Exp. discontinued.
TABLE II.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. ST.
Galvanometer
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Readings. Stimulus.
17.40
18.20
17.40
30
40
35
; <— Burn.
35
45
30
50
25
55
20
60
15
65
10
65
05
60
05
55
05
50
05
50
05
18.05
18.00
18.30
00
30
00
30
: <r- Dropping weight.
: «- Pinch.
05
35
10
40
18.15
18.45
BORIS SWIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
18.50
" 22.6O
55
60
50
60
45
! <- Divide!^-
40
s* 60
35
Ja ~\ 6°
35
60
35
o
fc 60
35
60
35
60
.
' 20.30
3°
22.60
bo
60
i
cd -
I 4— Thinks of disagree-
60
i
30 able experience.
o
fc
30
30
: «— Presented mirror
65 to face unex-
20.30 4— Slight artificial
70 pectedly
75
30 laughter.
80
40
85
50
90
60
95
70
23.00
80
oo
90
22.95
80
90
70
85
60
80
50
75
70
65
22.60
60
60
V
60
22.60
c5
; 4- Multiply 17 X 15-
60
CJ
O
60
60
23.00
fe
55
oo
55
oo
L 60
i 4- Pinch.
60
05
60
10
60
15
22.60
20
23-25
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Galvanometer
Readings.
Stimulus.
23-30
22.80
35
80
40
80
40
: <—
Coughed.
35
85
30
9°
25
95
20
23.00
15
05
IO
IO
05
15
23.00
20
22.90
25
90
30
90
30
' «— Electric shock.
25
2O
22.95
I?
95
\f
IO
23.00
°5
°5
10
23.00
15
22.90
80
15
22.80
IO
•
05
f\ *j /-v~i
•
ZJ.UU
22.95
' 22.80
90
,; 80
90
M
s J <-
Capital of Portu-
•
•8 1 22.80
gal?
22.80
§,
Capital of Ireland?
22.80
. 22.80
TABLE III.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. S.
Galvanometer
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Readings.
Stimulus.
24.00
24.35
00
40
; <— Pinch.
40
05
35
10
30
15
25
V
20
20
25
15
24.30 24. 10
BORIS SID IS AND H. T. KALMUS.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Galvanometer
Readings.
Stimulus.
24.05
17.20
24.00
,
4- Artificial laughter.
30
13.60
40
50
60
60
60
70
; <— Dropping weight.
80
65
90
70
18.00
75
•
80
23-50
85
60
90
70
90
80
85
9°
80
24.00
75
00
70
00
65
oo
13-65
24.00
•
24.00
2^.00
•
o y
90
13.70
90
70
; <— Burn.
70
95
,
4- Smelled CS2.
24.00
80
05
85
24.10
90
15
95
14.00
20
oo
25
13-95
30
90
35
85
40
80
.
40
75
35
13-75
30
*
25
"
20
„ f 15-35
IO
g> 35
23.90
* .
A
<j
4— Thinking of some-
17.20
17.20
o 35
Z l 35
thing disagree-
able.
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS.
Galvanometer
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Readings.
a»
r 15.35
• 15-35
&
•
35
i
•
35
1'
1 «— Solving difficult
I*
; «—
0
35 problem.
o
35
55
55
^•i
• 35
^ 35
Stimulus.
Shown pictures.
TABLE IV.
EXPERIMENT ON DR. C.
Galvanometer
Readings.
24-75
75
75
Stimulus.
Burn.
80
85
90
95
25.00
oo
24-95
90
85
80
75
70
24.70
24-55
55
55
60
65
70
80
90
90
80
70
24.60
Pinch.
Galvanometer
Readings.
24-55
50
50
24.50
Stimulus.
23.25
25
25
<— Sudden noise.
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
24.00
00
23.95
90
23.85
(Experiment stopped.)
23.30
30
3°
23.30
Solving difficult
problems men-
tally.
BORIS SID IS AND H. T. KALMUS.
TABLE V.
EXPERIMENTS ON MR. R.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
Galvanometer
Readings. Stimulus.
18.20
23-35
2O
3°
20
25
; «— Drop weight.
25
20
15
10
3°
IO
35
40
45
50
23.10
12.00
50
OO
45
'. 4— Suddeu loud shout.
40
IO
35
20
30
25
18.25
30
40
50
•
60
50
40
3°
20
23-15
15
15
I <— • Slight noise.
10
20
I2.OO
25
•
23.30
•
Plotting galvanometric deflections as ordinates and time as
abscissae a series of curves is obtained.
Out of a large number we have selected a few typical ones
which show clearly the relative variations of galvanometric de-
flections under various conditions of stimulation. Where requi-
site we indicate in a short note the essential characteristic of
each particular curve.
An examination of the tables and curves shows that pure
ideational processes such as thinking, calculation, solving
problems, representing pleasant or painful experiences and
even aesthetic experiences such as looking at pictures have no
effect, while sudden violent emotions and especially intense
sensory stimulations of a painful or of a very disagreeable
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS.
-.0
5
10
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
character, such as burns, pricks, pinches, electric shocks
and unpleasant smells are followed by marked galvanometric
deflections. The deflections diminish and finally disappear with
the repetition of the same sensory stimulation.
It will be observed that there is a latent period between the
time of stimulation and the beginning of the rise of the curve.
This latent time is somewhat variable, but is of the order of
I -AC
ON
7
X -Pinch I'Burn
FIG. 3. — The curves show deviations due to simple sensory stimulation and
superimposed sensory stimulation.
magnitude of a few seconds. No attempt was made to study
accurately such latent periods ; the curves represent the magni-
tude of the deflection in terms of arbitrary time units. Particular
attention will be paid to this point in a subsequent study.
23.8E
-2*75
Mil
335
7
J ' '
O-flecfr/c shock
FIG. 4.
^>A
-i
F
CP 1
)N r
R (
24
.
/\
/
C
C
C
A
/
C
/
\
/
/
^*
/
f\
/
/
1
Ho)
D
/
?1i
i
i
y
z
*W
/
"\
/
?4t
|
z
\
0
0
\-5olvinp problem mentally (no chin fe) C*Nois9 Ds Pinch.
A-V« Sudden noise C.C.C, Repetition of noise (no cfunge}
FIG. 5. — The galvauomctric deviations diminish and finally disappear with superimposed
stimulations of same kind. 1 1
12
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
It need hardly be pointed out that such definite variations
cannot possibly be ascribed to changes in the circuit such as
the introduction of thermo-electromotive forces, magnetic effects
and the like ; for these could scarcely time themselves to occur
just at the instant of stimulation. For the sake of completeness
of demonstration, however, a resistance box was introduced into
the circuit across the electrodes EE in place of the human
y=tp
?<iA
No
H
2;
.*-•
*5udden lioht \l*CaUed fiis name P-P'mcft
beaded trffcsname&motionj V Electric At slim
FiG. 6. — This curve brings out well the relative deviations due to pure representation, as
compared with emotional and sensory processes.
body. The reading remained steady to within one half milli-
meter for an indefinite time in spite of the jarring and dis-
turbances which were purposely made more violent than during
the experiments on the subjects.
Hence ive conclude that the observed galvanometric changes
do not take their origin in the physical $art of the circuit, but
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS.
are caused by-physiological -processes concomitant with the mental
states aroused by the stimuli.
We next pass to the study of the nature of these physio-
logical processes.
-ft
-tt*
7
UOl
ECEBOI
\
\-f/oise Xs Noise more violent
V= Sudden violent noise Q-Noiss
FIG. 7. — These two curves of galvanometric deviations with metal and liquid
electrodes under the same conditions of sensory stimulations may be regarded
as typical.
PART II.
I.
The galvanometric variations during emotional states may be
taken to indicate that the physiological processes accompany-
ing emotions change the resistance of the circuit by changing
the resistance of the body. This resistance factor is the one to
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
which these variations are commonly referred by previous in-
vestigators. Further experimentation, however, points in a dif-
ferent direction.
It seemed highly probable that not an inconsiderable fraction
of the total resistance of the body measured by the immersion
of the hands in our liquid electrodes was due to the skin layer.
Variations in the skin area in contact with the electrodes were
X
1:
1ZA
X=V/olent laughter \*Sudden noise
Q-P/ncA
FiG. 8. — This curve is especially instructive, showing the galvanometric deflection produced
by laughter as compared with variations caused by sensory stimulations.
eliminated by the use of liquid electrodes instead of metal elec-
trodes used by other investigators. The shellac and paraffin
with which we covered the subject's wrists as well as the splints
put on the hands made the skin area washed by the liquid elec-
trodes constant, so much so that violent stirring of the liquid
with the hands did not change the reading of the galvanometer.
The galvanometric variations observed under conditions of stimu-
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS. 15
lation could not therefore be referred to variations in skin
contact.
If resistance be the factor, then the galvanometric variations
observed may either be due to changes of resistance of the con-
X*£lectric shock l»£nf4(Cd«, O* Cough.
FIG. 9. — Dr. B. throughout the experiments gives a large deflection to electric stimula-
tions even to expected ones as he is quite sensitive to electricity.
stant area of the skin or of the body through which the current
passes. That the galvanometric deflections are due to vari-
ations in resistance of the skin is a view commonly held by
many investigators.
i6
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
Skin resistance can, however, be eliminated by the follow-
ing procedure : Hypodermic needles were inserted well under
the skin until blood flowed freely. The hands with the needles
in position were placed within the liquid electrodes. The change
in deflection was slight, about 2 millimeters in a total deflection
of 20 centimeters, or about i per cent. After a few minutes
the reading was the same as before the insertion of the needle
El
P.C
N D
*.fi
n»
/«
Wl
rt4oi
T C.I
LL.
/~
\
/
\
nt
/
/
\
/
\
IA
/
f
\
,* —
N.
/
\
If.
I
/
\
/
\
/
\
/
\
i/
f
V
— Jf-
J
^
'\-Pmcn X- sudden noise
FIG. 10.
electrodes. The deflection was probably due to the stimu-
lation caused by inserting the needles. That is, after a few
minutes the deflections with the needle electrodes did not dif-
fer from those without the needle electrodes. Skin resistance
was even more conclusively eliminated by a series of experi-
ments which will be described in their appropriate place. With
the needles inserted curves identical in form with the preceding
ones were obtained. Following are two curves typical of a
number obtained under these conditions.
In considering the resistance of the body we may possibly
regard the temperature of the body as a factor concerned in the
observed galvanometric deflections. Electrolytes have a posi-
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS.
tive temperature coefficient of about 2 per cent, per degree.
It was thought that contractions of the muscles, voluntary
and involuntary, as well as other catabolic processes that may
go on in the body during an emotional state may possibly
develop heat and thus account for the change in the deflections.
Granted that sufficient heat is developed by muscular and chem-
ical activities involved in the catabolic physiological processes
24,
23.4
1
\*tnsef.ted, needte electrodes G>*El£ctrtc $/iock
FIG. ii.
concomitant with emotional states we may well account for the
galvanometric variations. The factor of temperature had all
the more to be taken into consideration as the experiments per-
formed seemed to point in that direction. That is, bending of
the arm, strenuous bending of the head, rising, sitting, cough-
ing, laughing, whether spontaneous or artificial, any violent
muscular strain or exercise especially of the arms gave rise to
iS
BORIS SID IS AND H. T. KALMUS.
appreciable variations. Thus in some cases violent laughter,
though artificial in character, caused a galvanometric deflection
of 6-8 centimeters. Under other more favorable conditions
described further the deflection amounted to more than 50
centimeters.
We may also call attention to the experiments in which we
artificially varied the temperature of the arms. Heating and
cooling the arms put in an Esmarch bandage so as to exclude
circulatory variations brought about galvanometric deflections.
The experiments with hot and cold applications gave but
slight variations insufficient to account for the galvanometric
FIG. 12.
phenomena observed under the influence of emotional states.
The variations due to raising the temperature did not differ
from those due to lowering the temperature. Furthermore,
after a minute or two of continuous cooling or heating the arms
the reading was the same as that before the temperature
change. The hot and cold applications acted therefore in the
nature of mere temperature stimulations.
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS. 19
The galvanometric variations observed upon rising and sitting
were just as marked when the subject was raised passively and
lowered passively as when he raised himself actively so that there
was no question of exercise. Rising and sitting, changes in the
position of the arms, was responsible for variations. The curves,
Figs. 13-19, show the effect clearly.
aw--
2.9
2.5-
5.9
\
I- Rises*
x* a/it*
FIG. 13.
From these experiments it seems that muscular activity of
those parts of the body actually forming the circuit bring about
galvanometric deflections, while activity of the more remote
parts of the body are ineffective.
II.
It was supposed that the galvanometric deflections might be
due to variations of the circulation under the influence of emo-
tions. The circulation was cut off by Esmarch bandages. A
galvanometric deflection was observed on putting on the Es-
20
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
march bandages and also on taking them off, as it was in the
case of any other intense stimulus. What, however, com-
pletely eliminates circulation as the determining factor is the
significant fact that when the Esmarch bandages were on,
galvanometric deflections were obtained under conditions of sen-
sory stimulation and arousal of emotional states. The Esmarch
bandages were kept on the subject as long as he could stand
EJU^QH
7
V =
= Sitting O = Has
FIG. 14.
them. The circulation was effectually cut off, the pulse was
gone and the hand assumed a cadaverous hue ; still the same
galvanometric deflections were easily obtained under the same
mental and purely physiological conditions, such as emotions,
sudden sensory stimulations, rising, sitting, coughing, laugh-
ing and muscular activity, especially of the arms.
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS.
21
VJ
i
-A. «j
o
i
II
x:
22
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
E*R_£!*_Di
boc(
body f >rwird
r
80
b /?/'ses
FIG. 17.
I = Raist/ic tody, elbows, stiff X - dendina elbons
FIG. 19. .O= dt/ffeaitog arms C = 5tiPPe}wuf elbows .
24
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
The following curves may be regarded as typical of the
rest ;
These experiments prove conclusively that the circula-
tion has nothing to do with the galvanic phenomena under
investigation.
Our experiments go to prove that the causation of the gal-
vanometric phenomena cannot be referred to skin resistance,
nor can it be referred to variations in temperature, nor to circu-
latory changes with possible changes in the concentration of the
body-fluids. Since the electrical resistance of a given body
depends on two factors — temperature and concentration — the
elimination of both factors in the present case excludes body-
E. £P.
1R.S
ARMS DANDA ;eo
13.41
^
\-BUrn y-P/'ncA S~ dmeit C5* Showing ctecreastnjr effect of
FIG. 20.
resistance as the cause of the deflections. Our experiments
therefore prove unmistakably that the galvanic phenomena due
to mental and physiological processes cannot be referred to
variations in resistance, whether of skin or body. Resistance
being excluded the galvanomctric deflections can only be due to
variations in electromotive force of the body.
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS. 25
FIG. 21.
III.
In our experiments on the electromotive force we were partly
guided by Dr. Waller's work on the electromotive changes con-
nected with the beat of the mammalian heart.1 The heart-beat
should be taken into consideration as one of the possible causes
of galvanometric deflections due to various psycho-physiological
''Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, Vol. 180, p.
169, 1889.
26
BORIS SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS. 27
and purely psychological processes. Experimenting with the
capillary electrometer Waller came to the conclusion that ** a
marked electrical variation is manifested at each pulsation
of the heart." This electrical variation was manifested by
'leading off' from the surface of the body. Thus with each
beat of the heart an electromotive force is set up causing a non-
symmetrical distribution of potential over the body. To quote
Waller : " The contraction of the ventricles is not simultaneous
throughout the mass, but traverses it as a wave. Inequalities
of potential at different parts of the mass are consequently
established at the beginning and at the end of each systole.
Or to reverse the order of statement, the inequalities in question
are proof of the passage of a wave of excitation. The distribu-
tion of these inequalities of potential is represented diagram-
matically in Fig. 24.
" These data being transferred to the entire body as in Fig. 24
we have the portion a, a, a ... as the area in which the
potential of A is distributed, and the portion 3, 3, b ... as
the area in which the potential of B is distributed.
" Electrical variations will be manifested when any two points
a and b are led off ; no electrical variations will occur when any
two points a and a, or b and £, on the same equipotential line,
are led off ; small electrical variations will be obtained when
two points a and «, or b and b on different equipotential lines
are led off."
Working with the capillary electrometer Waller found that
certain combinations were favorable, while others were unfavor-
able to manifestations of marked electrical variations due to
cardiac beat. The favorable combinations were the following :
Left hand and right hand.
Right hand and right foot.
Right hand and left foot.
Mouth and left hand.
Mouth and right foot.
Mouth and left foot.
The unfavorable combinations were :
Left hand and left foot.
Left hand and right foot.
28
BORIS SID IS AND H. T. KALMUS.
FIG. 24.
Right foot and left foot.
Mouth and right hand.
In short, according to Waller, electrical variations are ob-
served when two dissimilar points are connected with the elec-
trometer, while electrical variations are absent or faint when two
A STUDY OP GALVANOMETKIC DEFLECTIONS. 29
similar points are connected, similar and dissimilar points being
defined according to Fig. 24.
We repeated Waller's experiments, but we could not confirm
his results. Our experiments do not confirm his favorable or un-
favorable combinations. Further work is in progress in this
connection. What we did find was that a reversal of position
of the hands — putting the right in place of the left hand —
made a difference in the magnitude of the deflection and occa-
sionally in its direction.
To define positive and negative deflections for our experi-
ments, a cell was introduced into the circuit and the direction of
the deflection was called positive. The terminal of the galva-
nometer to which the positive pole of the cell was connected
was consequently defined as positive. In the following record
of data, therefore, 1. h. (+) means that the left hand was con-
nected to the positive terminal of the galvanometer thus defined.
The following tables give the results of our experiments :
TABLE VI.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. S.
First Series.
zero reading ...................... -f 25.0
+ 8.51
l.h.(-) .......................... + I8.0J"
zero reading ...................... -\- 25.0
1.M+) .......................... + 9-5)
1.M-) .......................... + I8.5J
zero reading ...................... + 25.0
l.h. ( + ) .......................... + 9-5)
l.h.(-) ......................... + i8.of
1. h. ( + ) ............................ off scale -f
1. h. (— ) .......................... off scale —
Repeated 5 times ; same results.
TABLE VII.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. S.
Second Series.
l.h. (+) .......................... —8.0
1.M-) .......................... +5-5
l-h.(+) .......................... -7-0
l.h- (-) .......................... +5-8
1 1. h. stands for left hand ; r. h. stands for right hand.
3° BOR^S SIDIS AND H. T. KALMUS.
1.M+) , -7-5
l.t. (-) +5.2
l.t.(+) -7.2
1-M-) +5.0
TABLE VIII.
EXPERIMENTS ON MR. R.
l.h. (+) + 10.0
" + 10.5
" + II.Q
l.h. (— ) o.o
o.o
" o.o
Defl.
mouth (—) r. h. (+) 7.2 7.5
mouth ( + ) r. h. ( — ) 7.6 6.0
mouth (— ) l.h. (+ ) 7.2 7.5
mouth (+) 1. h. (—) 6.5 6.0
(2) is a repetition of experiment (i).
TABLE IX.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. B.
zero — 25.0
zero .............................. — 25.0
1.M-) .......................... + 3-0
l.h. (-) .......................... - 6.5
zero ............................. — 25.0
l.h.(+) .......................... + 3.0
l.h. (-) .......................... - 6.5
l.h. (+) .......................... + 14
Lh.(-) .......................... -13
mouth ( +) r. h. (— ) ............ + 25.0
mouth (— ) 1. h. (+) ............ + 25.0
mouth (— ) r. h. (+) ............ + 25.0
mouth (+) 1. h. (— ) ............ + 25.0
TABLE X.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. K.
1. h. (— ) ........... ............... + n.o
l.h.(+) .......................... -13-0
l.h. (-) .......................... + 11.4
1. h. (+) .......................... — 12.0
l.h. (-) .......................... + 11.5
A STUDY OF GALVANOMBTRIC DEFLECTIONS. 31
TABLE XI.
EXPERIMENTS ON MR. COL.
First Series.
.h.(+) .......................... + 6.0
.h. (-) .......................... + II.Q
.h. ( + ) .......................... + 5-0
.h. (-) .......................... + 10.0
.b.(+) .......................... + 4-5
. h. (— ) ......................... + 10.0
.b.( + ) .......................... + 4-5
• h. (-) ......................... + 9-0
TABLE XII.
EXPERIMENTS ON MR. COL.
Second Series.
-4-5
Lh. (-) .......................... -7.o
l.h.(+) .......................... -3.0
•*.(-) .......................... -7-0
.H. (+) .......................... -3.0
• h.(-) .......................... -7.2
• h.( + ) ........................ -2.8
•h. (-) .......................... -7-3
TABLE XIII.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. ST.
• h. (+) .......................... +2-7
.h. (-) .......................... +1.4
• h.(+) .......................... +2.6
•h.(~) .......................... +1.2
.h. (+) .......................... +2.2
.H. (-) .......................... +0.9
From these tables it is clear that the absolute magnitude of
the deflection varies according to the varying conditions of the
experiment. Different experiments performed with different-
concentration of electrode solutions gave different deflections,
in fact the direction and magnitude was varied at will in this
way. Also substituting lead electrodes for copper electrodes
changed the deflections largely, and different parts of the skin
gave different original deflections. However, superimposed
upon this original steady deflection is a deflection due to the
various stimulations given.
32 BORIS SID IS AND H. T. KALMUS.
IV.
A further study offers direct evidence that the deflections
due to stimuli are caused by electromotive forces. Following
are the experimental results :
TABLE XIV.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. K.
1. h. ( + ) steady reading — 11.50
Stimulus — pinch, reading rose to. . — 14.0
1. h. ( — ) steady reading + IO-°
Stimulus = burn — rose to -f- 11.5
TABLE XV.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. S.
1. h. ( — ) steady reading + 9.0
Stimulus = pinch + 10.0
1. h. ( + ) steady reading + n.o
Stimulus = pinch + 11.7
TABLE XVI.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. ST.
1. h. (+) steady reading — 3.5
Stimulus = electrical shock — 4.5
1. h. ( +) steady reading — 3.0
Stimulus = burn — 4.2
1. h. ( -(-) steady reading — 3.0
Stimulus = electrical shock — 3.7
1. h. ( — ) steady reading — 3.8
Stimulus = electrical shock — 3.0
1. h. (— ) steady reading — 4.0
Stimulus = electrical shock — 3. 1
1. h. ( — ) steady reading — 4.0
Stimulus (i) = electrical shock .... — 3.5
Stimulus (2) = electrical shock .... — 3.0
1. h. (+) steady reading — 3.2 "\
Stimulus = multiply 3% x 7^ — 3-2
1. h. ( + ) steady reading. . — 3-2 fNo change.
Stimulus = (What is the capital of
Japan?) — 3-2 J
A STUDY OF GALVANOMBTRIC DEFLECTIONS. 33
TABLE XVII.
BXPBRIMBNTS ON MRS. S.
1. h. ( + ) steady reading — 2.5
Stimulus = sudden noise — 4.0
1. h. ( — ) steady reading -f 4.0
Stimulus - prick +6.0
TABLE XVIII.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. ST.
1. h. (-f ) steady reading — 1.3
Stimulus, ice application to arms .... — 0.9
application removed — 1.3
1. h. ( + ) steady reading — 1.5
Stimulus ( i ) hot application — 1.3
(2) changed to ice application. . — 0.9
1. h. ( + ) steady reading — 1.8
Stimulus, hot application — 0.9
1. h. ( + ) steady reading — 2.3
Stimulus, hot application — 2. i
1. h. ( — ) steady reading — 0.2
Stimulus, cold application — 0.3
1. h. ( — ) steady reading — 0.5
Stimulus, cold application — i.o
1. h. ( — ) steady reading — 0.8
Stimulus, hot application — i.i
Stimulus repeated gave no further deflections.
An examination of Tables XVI. and XVIII. shows that the
effect of the stimulus is sometimes to increase the current and
sometimes to decrease the current. This cannot be due to
change of resistance of the body, but must be due to an elec-
tromotive force.
Table XVIII. shows that both increasing and decreasing the
temperature caused the absolute deflections to diminish when the
1. h. was (+) and to increase when the 1. h. was (— ). That
is, the change of temperature acted simply as a sensory stimu-
lus causing in every instance an E.M.F. in the same direction
relatively to the body, whether the change be an increase or a
diminution of temperature. With thel. h. (+) the E.M.F. due
to the stimulation was in the opposite direction to E.M.P". already
existing in the circuit and consequently diminished the existing
deflection, while with the hands reversed (/'. <?., 1. h. (— ) ) the
34 BORIS SID IS AND H. T. KALMUS.
E.M.F. due to the stimulation was set up in the same direction
as before within the body, which now, since the body has been
reversed, is in the same direction as the E.M.F. existing in the
circuit. Hence upon reversal the existing deflection was in-
creased.
From all these data it is evident that a stimulus causes a defi-
nite deflection superimposed upon the original deflection which
is not always in the same direction. Had these superimposed
deflections been due to resistance-changes under stimulation
then reversing the hands would not have changed the direction
of this deflection. But the above data show that in many cases
the direction of the superimposed deflection is reversed with
reversal of hands. This effect then having definite direction
must be of the nature of an electromotive force.
Is the electromotive force produced by stimuli, by emo-
tional states and by various other physiological processes due to
variations of secretion-currents in the skin?
That the skin has little or nothing to do with the phenomena
under investigation can be proven by a series of experiments in
which the skin is totally excluded. The skin was covered with
shellac and paraffin leaving only the fingernails exposed. Under
such conditions definite galvanometric deflections were obtained,
deflections induced by emotional states and physiological activ-
ities. The following tables obtained with no cell in the circuit
are characteristic :
TABLE XIX.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. ST.
Metal Electrodes — Finger Nails Only.
1. h. (+) steady reading o.o
Stimulus = rising -|- 6.0
1. h. ( — ) steady reading o.o
Stimulus = rising + 4-°
TABLE XX.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. K.
Metal Electrodes — Finger Nails Only.
Steady reading o.o
Stimulus — laughing + 6.0
Steady reading o.o
Stimulus = coughing + 1.5
A STUDY OF GALVANOMETRIC DEFLECTIONS. 35
TABLE XXI.
EXPERIMENTS ON DR. S.
Metal Electrodes — Finger Nails Only.
Steady reading .................... -f 19.0
Stimulus = laughing .............. -f 5°-°
Steady reading .................... 0.0
Stimulus = laughing .............. -|- 4.5
Steady reading .................... o.o
Stimulus .......................... + 4.5
Similar experiments were performed with tinfoil over finger
nails to improve contact :
METAL ELECTRODES.
Steady reading .................... + 13.0
Stimulus - laughing .............. + 21.0
ELECTRODES.
1. h. ( + ) steady reading ............ — 30.0
Stimulus = laughing .............. — 8.0
This experiment was repeated several times with same results.
1. h. ( — ) steady reading ............ + 3O-°
Stimulus = laughing .............. -f- 35.0
In these experiments evidently all skin effects were excluded.
Deflections under the influence of sensory stimulations were
observed which, as in our earlier experiments, show definite
directions and which are consequently referable to electromo-
tive forces in the body.
Our experiments thus clearly point to the Jact that active
physiological, sensory and emotional processes, with the excep-
tion of pure ideational ones, initiated in a living organism
bring about electromotive forces with consequent galvano>
metric defections.
We take great pleasure in thanking Dr. W. Bernis, Dr. A.
Stevenson and especially Dr. D. F. Comstock for the valuable
assistance they have given us in performing these experiments.
The experimental part of this research was carried out at
the Research Laboratory of Physical Chemistry of the Massa-
chusetts Institute of Technology and at Dr. Sidis' psycho-
pathological laboratory.
THE NERVOUS CORRELATE OF ATTENTION. II.
BY PROFESSOR M. MEYER,
University of Missouri.
IV. AUTOMATIC ACTION.
4 Automatic action ' is not used by all psychologists as mean-
ing the same facts. Some use it as a synonym for instinctive
action, indicating by the former term merely that the instinctive
action to which they refer is accompanied by little or no con-
sciousness. Others use the word automatic to designate action
which is not instinctive, not innate, but the outcome of habit,
indicating by the term automatic that it is a kind of habitual
activity which is no longer accompanied by much, if any, con-
sciousness. I shall accept the latter definition. The question
then is : What is the nervous correlate of automatic action ?
Neurological research has made it probable that automatic
action resembles instinctive action in this respect that it is inde-
pendent of the higher nerve centers, that it may continue even
after the higher nerve centers have been destroyed. While this
resemblance between instinctive and automatic action has hardly
been established beyond doubt, let us accept it as a fact. There
seems to be, then, a contradiction between this fact and our
theory of habit formation. Habits can be formed out of instincts
only by uniting the motor part of one reflex arch with the sen-
sory part of another reflex arch through mediation of higher
connecting neurons. How, then, can these higher connecting
neurons be eliminated without breaking again the newly formed
path? It is obviously necessary to develop a special hypothesis
for the explanation of automatic action. Neurology tells us that
there are always, even at an advanced age, millions of undevel-
oped nerve cells in our brain, consisting only of a plain cell
body, without any fibers and branches. Perhaps we hit the truth
in assuming that the purpose of these nerve cells is to make
possible the establishment of automatic action.
36
THE NERVOUS CORRELATE OP ATTENTION.
37
Suppose a new habit has been formed by reducing, in the
manner described, the resistance of the path leading from the sen-
sory point Sf to the motor point Afq. Sp and M^ are supposed to
belong to two reflex arches which are very remotely connected,
by connecting neurons of a very high order. It follows from
our theory that the formation of the habit must then be accom-
•panied by much consciousness, since the nervous current from Sf,
in order to pass out at Af , has to take a very indirect, round-
about path, consisting of neurons over which processes from
many different sensory points have previously passed, whose
corresponding sensations are now reproduced as images. There
is also much opportunity for pleasantness-unpleasantness. Fig.
FIG. 2.
2 may be regarded as diagrammatically representing the path
of the nervous process at the time when the habit is just estab-
lished. We notice that at a two points of the path are by
chance very near each other. Let us assume that in such a
case something happens analogous to the electrical tension if
the path were a metallic conductor carrying a high-potential
electric current. In the latter case a spark would be likely to
occur at a. Let us make the hypothesis that when a 'tension'
of this kind occurs in the nervous system, this stimulates un-
developed nerve cells to send out branches in the direction of
this tension. The consequence of this development of a new
connecting neuron is a shortening of the path leading from Sp
to Mq by putting out of function the part above a. This means
that the response at Mq occurs with greater quickness and with
greater definiteness, since, the shorter the path, the less interfer-
ence of the current by other currents is likely to occur. It means
38 MAX MEYER.
further that the nervous process <SpMq is accompanied by much
less consciousness, since all those images which depend on a
current passing over the neurons above the point # , are now ex-
cluded.
The same shortening of the path by the development of a
new connecting neuron out of an undeveloped nerve cell may
occur later at b. The total path leading from Sp to Mq is then
scarcely longer than a reflex arch. Accordingly the response
at Mq to a stimulus at Sp must occur with the same quickness
and definiteness as an instinctive response, with little or no ac-
companying consciousness, and independent of any accidental
destruction of those higher nerve centers without which the estab-
lishment of this habit would have been impossible. That auto-
matic action is brought about in exactly this manner, we need
not assert. Our task was merely to show that the establishment
of automatic action, including all the peculiarities mentioned,
may be comprehended as a comparatively simple event occurring
in the brain.
If the distance between the two points at b were less than the
distance at a, the shortening of the path would immediately have
occurred at b. This, too, is an interesting conclusion, since we
actually notice that habits sometimes pass very quickly from the
fully conscious stage into the completely automatic stage, where-
as sometimes they become only gradually less and less conscious.
It is plain that the shortening of the path means also that
pleasantness and unpleasantness are less likely to occur. Al-
though the path may not be so short that no consciousness at all
accompanies the nervous process, yet its shortness makes the
process less liable to come into touch with other nervous proc-
esses, and without this, as we have seen, pleasantness or un-
pleasantness is impossible. We understand thus why habitua-
tion, familiarity, reduces the possibility of ' feeling.'
V. VIVIDNESS AND INTENSITY.
In speaking of attention many psychologists use the term
vividness. Let us accept this terminology and call mental states
more or less vivid. What then is the nervous correlate of
vividness? It is difficult to conceive of its nervous correlate as
THE NERVOUS CORRELATE OF ATTENTION. 39
anything else than the intensity of the nervous process, the flux.
But what is the nervous correlate of the attribute of intensity of
a sensation? Must we not conceive of this, too, as the intensity
of the nervous process? What distinction is then left between
vividness and intensity of a mental state if their nervous corre-
lates are identical?
That there is no fundamental difference between vividness
and the attribute of intensity seems to follow from the fact that
it is practically impossible to be inattentive to an impression
resulting from a very intense stimulus. However, there must
be some kind of difference. Our theory can help us to under-
stand this. The intensity of the nervous current, the flux,
according to our theory, depends on a number of conditions :
(i) On the intensity of the stimulus which calls forth the motor
response. (2) On the resistance offered by the path leading
from the point of stimulation to the point of motor response.
(3) On the presence of other simultaneous nervous processes
which may be forced to join the process mentioned first. (4) On
the presence of other simultaneous nervous processes which are
capable of deflecting the process first mentioned from its course.
Our consciousness is influenced by all these conditions, and in
addition, (5) by the directness or indirectness of the path
mentioned under (2), since processes in the very lowest connect-
ing neurons seem to be unaccompanied by consciousness and
processes in the highest neurons are accompanied not only by
the consciousness corresponding to the point of stimulation but
also by consciousness corresponding to the points of stimulation
from which previous processes took their way over these same
higher neurons, that is, by images. It seems to me that
psychologists speak of the intensity of a sensation in so far only
as the degree of consciousness is determined by the — objective
— condition stated under (i), of vividness when the degree of
consciousness is determined by any of the five — including the
subjective — conditions.
With respect to the first condition it is clear that vivid con-
sciousness must result from an intense stimulus in all senses in
which (an exception is mentioned below) stronger physical
stimulation causes a stronger nervous flux. This is true, how-
40 MAX MEYER.
ever, only when in accordance with our fifth condition the
nervous process takes a sufficiently indirect path. A process
going on exclusively over a reflex arch is unconscious, not
attended to, however strong the nervous flux may be. Yet even
in case no indirect path has been specially prepared thus far by
nervous function of the past, the process can take an indirect
path by diffusion if the stimulation is so strong that the simple
reflex arch cannot carry the full process. We may say, there-
fore, that as a rule a strong stimulus brings about vivid con-
sciousness.
Secondly we mentioned the resistance. However strong
the stimulation, there cannot be much flux if a great resistance
must be overcome ; and there may be a considerable flux even
if the stimulus is weak, provided there is very little resistance.
However, directness and indirectness of the path are as im-
portant here as in the former case. There can be no con-
sciousness, however great the flux, if the flux is restricted to the
lowest connecting neurons. We perform many reactions with
great promptness and force, and yet without foreseeing them,
that is, without attention.
Thirdly, the nervous process resulting from a fairly strong
stimulus under favorable conditions of resistance is joined by
other and weaker nervous processes because of the law of attrac-
tion of weaker processes by a stronger one. This can happen
only in case the nervous process passes over higher nerve
centers, since otherwise it could not meet and attract the weaker
processes. Going on in the higher centers it is accompanied
by consciousness. Being strong from the start and further
strengthened by other nervous processes, it must be accom-
panied by very vivid consciousness. At the same time we see
— according to the theory developed in my previous article —
the conditions of pleasantness fulfilled. This explains to us the
law, much emphasized by psychologists, of the parallelism of
feeling and attention. The conditions favorable to the feeling
of pleasantness are also favorable to vividness of the sensational
consciousness. I should think, however, that parallelism^ not
causal relation, between feeling and attention is the proper term
to be applied to this case. We have no right to say, either that
THE NERVOUS CORRELATE OF ATTENTION. 41
the pleasantness is the cause of the attention, or that the atten-
tion is the cause of the pleasantness, since neither is a regular
antecedent of the other.
Our fourth condition is that a nervous process, after becom-
ing established, is deflected by another which is stronger. This
means unpleasantness. Here, as in the last case, there is activ-
ity in the higher nerve centers, since otherwise there could be
no deflection ; and the total flux is great because the deflected
process joins the deflecting. The accompanying consciousness
must be vivid. We see, then, that our statement concerning the
parallelism of feeling and attention holds good for unpleasant-
ness as well as for pleasantness.
Thus far we have not found any distinction between the
mental correlates of the intensity of nervous flux which would
necessitate the use of two terms, intensity and vividness. If
there is any justification for distinguishing intensity and vivid-
ness of mental states, it can be found only in accessory experi-
ences. As above stated, the term ' intensity of the mental state '
seems to indicate merely that the subject pronouncing the judg-
ment knows that the degree of consciousness (otherwise called
vividness) is determined in this case exclusively by the objective
condition of physical intensity of stimulation. Let us illustrate
this by four applications.
(1) In all psychological (especially psychophysical) work con-
cerning the attribute of intensity it is a rule (generally regarded
as self-evident) that the subjective conditions must be made, not
only constant during the experiment, but also most favorable to
the stimulus used ; that there must be ' a maximum of voluntary
attention.' If we do not succeed in complying with this condi-
tion, the experiment is thrown out. This shows that we are
concerned here with the degree of consciousness as a function
(in a mathematical sense) of an objective condition.
(2) Let us apply our view to the question as to the intensity and
vividness of imagery. Imagine a weak sound, and then imagine
a strong sound with equal attention, that is, with equal vivid-
ness. Has the latter auditory image a greater intensity than
the former? Most psychologists will answer: no — there is no
difference of intensity ; there is no intensity at all. Is this a
42 MAX MEYER.
strange fact that an imagined sound should have no intensity?
I think not. It follows from our theory that the concept of
* intensity of sensation ' is not applicable to a case where the
intensity of the nervous process, the flux, depends exclusively
on subjective conditions, as in our case, where there is no audi-
tory stimulation at all, and where the subjective conditions are
identical except for the visual percept of the word strong having
been substituted for the visual percept of the word weak. The
vividness does not differ, for the percept of the word strong can
scarcely have a nervous correlate of greater flux than the per-
cept of the word weak ; and of intensity there is none.
(3) Another interesting application is this. How is it possible
that the sensation resulting from a very weak stimulus can in-
crease in intensity when attention is given to it? Of course,
there are those who deny that this is true. Others, however,
assert the fact. In such a case it is well to look for a theory
which does justice to both parties, as, I think, our theory does.
The nervous process is increased by subjective factors. The
mental state shows a corresponding change in the degree of
consciousness. There is nothing wrong in saying that the sen-
sation is stronger, as long as we have not adopted any definite
language for the description of this experience. On the other
hand, no change in the mental state has occurred in consequence of
any change at the sensory point stimulated. Those who wish to
emphasize this fact are quite justified in saying that it was
merely a change in vividness. In our direct experience, ac-
cording to our theory, there can be no difference between inten-
sity and vividness. The difference is merely one of circum-
stances which may or may not be expressed in our judgment.
(4) That there are some sensations (e. g., visual) to which the
term intensity as above defined cannot be applied, is widely
recognized by psychologists. But according to our theory such
a sensation can possess vividness. Black means the absence of
light, but not the absence of stimulation and of a definite ner-
vous process. The nervous process which is the correlate of the
sensation black has no less power of deflecting the nervous proc-
ess which is the correlate of white than the latter has the power
of deflecting the former. The nervous correlate of black can-
THE NERVOUS CORRELATE OF ATTENTION. 43
not be mere nothing, for in that case it could not deflect an actual
nervous process. If the nervous correlate of black were not
an actual process of variable flux, black could have no vivid-
ness— it would be impossible to give attention to blackness.
Our refusal to speak of the intensity of a visual sensation ex-
presses merely the fact that the intensity of the physical stimu-
lus in this case does not influence the intensity of the nervous
process in the same direct manner as the intensity of most other
kinds of stimuli does, but through complex physiological agencies
in accordance with complicated laws. Nevertheless, the visual
nervous process has an intensity of flux, and its mental corre-
late has vividness.
I can see no objection, then, to regarding vividness and in-
tensity as essentially the same kind of experience, as degree of
consciousness. The distinction between vividness and intensity
does not mean a distinction between two kinds of mental corre-
lates of nervous flux, but only refers to accessory experiences,
to knowledge of the conditions by which the nervous flux is de-
termined in the particular case.
In spite of regarding vividness and intensity as experiences
having the same nervous correlate, I doubt if it is advisable to
call vividness an attribute of sensation , as proposed by Titch-
ener. He calls it the attribute of * clearness ' and regards it as
an attribute which, like duration, is common to all sensations
except to pleasantness and unpleasantness. These, the ' affec-
tive ' states, he regards as primitive sensations which, in conse-
quence of arrested development in racial evolution, have not
been able to acquire the attribute of clearness. I intend to dis-
cuss this matter in another article. It is of fundamental impor-
tance in this respect how ' attribute ' is defined. My definition1
differs greatly from that of Titchener2 — indeed, is quite irre-
concilable with his.
VI. ATTENTION AS A FACULTY.
What does attention, thought of as a power, a faculty of the
mind, bring about? It clears up our mental states, Titchener
says. It increases the vividness, others say. But all agree
1 ' On the Attributes of the Sensations,' PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, n, 1904.
1 Titchener, The Psychology of Feeling and Attention, p. 8, 1908.
44
MAX MEYER.
that it does more. It unifies mental states. It forms out of the
atom-like sensory material unitary groups made up of smaller
groups which possess themselves a secondary unity. What is
the nervous correlate of this function ?
The fundamental law of nervous function correlating with
this function of attention, is according to our theory, the law
that a stronger nervous current attracts a weaker nervous cur-
rent if the nervous connections and their resistances make this
possible. According to this law two independent conscious
processes are impossible. Two independent instinctive or auto-
matic processes may occur, for the nervous processes in these
cases pass over lower nerve centers only and thus may be un-
able to act upon each other. But when we have two conscious
processes, the nervous processes take their ways over higher
nerve centers and thus must inevitably affect each other. Fig.
3 (identical with Fig. 4 of my previous article) is a diagram
SMSMSMSMSMSMS.MSMSM
FIG. 3.
illustrating the nervous connections of twenty-seven reflex
arches. Suppose the reflex arch belonging to the sensory
point farthest to the left and the one belonging to the sensory
point farthest to the right are carrying currents. Those cur-
rents may go on without in any way interfering with each other.
But if the two nervous processes do not take the shortest paths
over the reflex arches to reach the motor points, but take the
THE NERVOUS CORRELATE OF ATTENTION. 45
paths up to S'" and from M'" down to their respective motor
points, they must inevitably interfere with each other, for the
only condition of non-interference, exact equality of the flux
for the whole time of their existence, cannot be fulfilled in an
organism except by a miracle. If the one process is — even
slightly — stronger than the other, it deflects a part of the
other's flux. Thus it becomes capable of forcing further proc-
esses started later, to join it rather than the other process. Be-
ing strong, it soon reduces the resistance of its path, thus be-
comes still stronger and deflects yet more of the flux of the rival
process. The outcome is that we have only one motor reaction
instead of two or more ; and only one train of thought made
up of related ideas instead of two or more unrelated trains of
thought. The unity of consciousness is simply the result of the
above described fundamental law of nervous activity.
At any moment of time the nervous process may be com-
pared with the current of a river. Just as the river is not, as a
rule, the result of the direct union of innumerable small creeks,
but of taking in here and there large tributaries, so the unitary
nervous process receives its large tributaries. Each of these
tributary processes is the nervous correlate of one of several
chief subdivisions of the unitary consciousness. Thus we have
no difficulty in understanding the actual make-up of our 'field'
of consciousness, the ' focalness ' of a part, corresponding to the
main stream, the lower level of vividness of other mental states
corresponding to the tributaries, larger and smaller, down to the
lowest degrees of consciousness in the * fringe,' represented by
little streams which have but little flux themselves, although with-
out their existence the great flux of the river would be impos-
sible. The question whether attention has but two or a greater
number of levels must be answered from the point of view of
our theory by saying that sometimes it has many levels, some-
times only two. A river may have practically no large tribu-
taries, but be formed by innumerable small streams emptying
into a lake. The mental analogon of this is the consciousness
on two levels only. The analogon of a river receiving many
large tributaries, which in their turn receive many smaller
streams, and so on, is the consciousness on many levels. I do
46 MAX MEYER.
not believe that the question as to the exact number of the levels
of consciousness has any scientific significance.
It seems to me that this will also solve a problem which has
been discussed by Sidis in recent issues of this REVIEW. Sidis
lays much stress on the insufficiency of the theory which dis-
tinguishes only two classes of mental states aside from feeling
— sensations (perceptions) and images. He points out that
there is a great difference between the kinesthetic consciousness
of heaviness when suggested, say, by reading the word heavy,
and the kinesthetic consciousness of heaviness when I ' see '
that a vase standing on the mantelpiece is heavy. Only in the
former case will he speak of a kinesthetic image ; in the latter
he speaks of a secondary sensation. However, we can also
charge this theory of Sidis with insufficiency, for there is a
great difference between the kinesthetic consciousness of heavi-
ness when I, sitting on a chair, ' see ' that the vase on the
mantelpiece is heavy, and the kinesthetic consciousness of
heaviness when I, having risen from the chair, * make up my
mind ' to take this heavy vase in my hands in order to place it
on the table. Shall we, then, distinguish primary, secondary,
and tertiary sensations? I do not see the value of these dis-
tinctions. There are obviously infinitely many degrees of flux
of the nervous processes in the connecting neurons of our
nervous system and equally many degrees of vividness. Never-
theless, the theory which distinguishes sensations and images
agrees with our observations in ordinary life, where as a rule
we find either a very high or a very low degree of vividness,
stability, and distinctness (detailedness) of our mental states.
The last problem which I shall take up here is this : Why
is it impossible to give attention to feeling? Or — as some psy-
chologists would prefer to state it : Why do we destroy, or
at least interfere with, our feeling by giving attention to it?
This fact appears indeed very strange to one who regards
attention as a faculty, a tool, which we apply to our states of
consciousness. Why should we be able to apply this tool to all
other kinds of consciousness? But if we attempt to apply it to
our feelings, they disappear. This kind of thing seems to fit
only a fairy tale. According to our theory, however, the fact
THE NERVOUS CORRELATE OF ATTENTION. 47
is not at all strange. Attention means vividness of a mental
state, and the nervous correlate of vividness is the intensity of
the nervous flux. But pleasantness and unpleasantness are not
the mental correlates of nervous flux, but of changes in the
nervous flux if these changes take their origin at points other
than sensory points of the body. These changes may be great
or small and accordingly we may speak of intense or weak
pleasantness and unpleasantness, of intensity of feeling, using
the word intensity in its broadest sense, as it is used in ordinary
life. But the term * vividness,' in its special sense, in which we
use it in connection with * attention,' cannot be used here, since
it refers to the quantity of flux, whereas we are concerned here
with the quantity of change of flux. That is, we cannot « give
attention ' to feeling. This is obviously implied also in the
second description quoted above, according to which feeling
disappears, when we attempt to give attention to it ; but what is
meant by attempting — by -willing — to give attention to feeling?
I accept the theory that the will to give attention is the fore-
seeing of attention. If we will to give attention to feeling, this
may mean that we are vividly conscious of the word idea « vivid-
ness ' or a synonym thereof together with the word idea ' feeling,'
or * pleasantness,' or ' unpleasantness.' A vivid consciousness
of these word ideas has a strong nervous correlate. Now, ac-
cording to our theory, this nervous correlate must deflect, inter-
fere with, the other nervous process which is the nervous corre-
late of our consciousness of the situation. If the process itself
is destroyed, the changes of flux occurring within it are of
course destroyed too. That is, we cease to be conscious, either
entirely or at least vividly, of the situation ; and we also cease
to be conscious of its pleasantness or unpleasantness. We see,
then, that the fact that we cannot give attention to feeling, that
our attempt to do this destroys the feeling, is a simple logical
consequence of our theory of the nervous correlates of feeling
and attention.
THE WANING OF CONSCIOUSNESS UNDER
CHLOROFORM.1
BY ELMER E. JONES, PH.D.,
Indiana University.
The phenomenon of the waning of consciousness under an
anesthetic is familiar to every physician, yet it is entirely prob-
able that no introspective records have been taken from patients
who have submitted themselves to the operating table. The
reason for this lack of psychological investigation is to be found
in the fact that usually the patient to be operated upon is in no
state of mind to give accurate introspective evidence because of
suffering, anxiety as to the result of the operation, or intense
emotion as a result of some previous experience which renders
the operation necessary. Likewise, chloroform to most indi-
viduals is so nauseating, and the ordeal of having the drug ad-
ministered so very unpleasant, that few individuals could be
induced to give their attention to the phenomenon of the disappear-
ance of consciousness, and make introspective statements which
could be accurately relied upon. Again, physicians themselves
do not regard the psychological phases of anesthesia as having
any great significance upon the success of the operation, or the
recovery of the patient, and consequently no definite experi-
mentation has been carried on.
The field, however, seems rather fruitful. It is probable that
it may throw some light upon the stability and deep-seatedness
of the various sense impressions, and ideas, and their tenacity
under the deteriorating effects of this powerful drug. I am of
the opinion also that a thorough experimental study of the wan-
ing of consciousness under anesthetics will throw much light on
the psychology of death, which obviously enough has never
been reported. While not of very much pragmatic value, it
nevertheless is of interest, because it is the experience through
1 Abstract of a paper read at the Washington meeting of the Southern So-
ciety for Philosophy, etc., December, 1907.
48
THE WANING OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 49
which all must pass, and probably is the phenomenon which is
more universally feared than any other strictly human experience.
The following introspective report is based upon three minis-
trations of chloroform to the writer, once for the purpose of per-
forming a slight operation, and twice a few months later for
introspective purposes alone. In the first event the physicians
and attendants knew nothing of the psychological study which
their patient was making on himself during the trance. In the
latter instances, however, a physician and attendants were em-
ployed to administer the drug in the usual way, and to assist in
carrying out the tests as previously arranged by the subject.
The chloroform was administered rather slowly, in order to give
ample opportunity for introspection, and for carrying out the
tests previously determined upon. All clothing was removed
so that there would be no interference with movements and
tactile impressions on various parts of the body. The eyes were
uncovered, and every effort made to allow all the sense organs
to have full play. The subject being placed on the operating
table, the drug was administered in the usual manner as for an
operation. It was prearranged to make the following intro-
spections during the waning of consciousness.
First, the disappearance of sense perception, both as to the
character of the decrease in acuteness of sense, and the order
in which the various senses disappear. In order to study the
visual sense the colors of the spectrum were placed on the ceil-
ing directly above the subject, and various objects, such as a
book, a few printed words, some digits arranged in the form of
a problem in addition, and a few geometrical designs. For the
auditory sense it was prearranged that an assistant should read
from a book slowly and distinctly, during the entire period of
anesthesia, so that the subject might watch carefully the char-
acter of the auditory impressions so long as they were felt in
consciousness. With reference to touch it was also prearranged
that an assistant should touch the body continually in various
places with a pointed instrument using as nearly as possible the
same pressure. In addition to this test the subject himself, by
moving his hands, arms and feet as long as possible, could intro-
spect both touch and the kinesthetic sense.
50 ELMER E. JONES.
Second, it was also planned to make introspections upon some
of the deeper processes, such as imagery, memory, and reason-
ing.
At the first inhalation of chloroform there are marked sensa-
tions in the vicinity of the heart. The musculature of that organ
seems thoroughly stimulated and the contractions become violent
and accelerated. The palpitations are as strong as would be
experienced at the close of some violent bodily exertion, such as a
hundred yard dash, or chinning the horizontal bar very rapidly
a few times. The cardiac movements are so accentuated that
they are easily felt as pressure sensations on the intercostal mus-
cles, and stretching sensations on the skin immediately over the
heart. This violent cardiac reaction is a good example of the
efficiency of the sympathetic system in counteracting disinte-
grating influences in one part of the organism by extraordi-
nary activity in another. Were it not for this stimulating effect
of chloroform upon the cardio-musculature the drug could not
be used for anesthesia.
Immediately accompanying these cardiac sensations, a pecul-
iar stupefying feeling proceeds throughout the whole body.
The blood conveying the drug, as it surges through the body,
is felt very clearly throughout its whole course. With each
ventricular contraction, as the drugged fluid is forced out into
the aorta, it can be clearly sensed in its passage through the
various curves and windings of the blood vessels, clear out into
the smaller subdivisions, and even into the capillaries. This
experience is a decidedly pleasant one, just a little stupefying,
and producing in consciousness an effect closely akin to drowsi-
ness, though clearly artificial. One is a little startled at the rapid-
ity of the blood flow, for in a very few seconds every part of the
body has been permeated by the chloroform and the anesthetic
effects are beginning to be felt.
With reference to the order in which the various types of
consciousness disappear under an anesthetic, it should be said
at once that there are two sharply defined stages ; first, the com-
plete damping down of all the sense organs, so that there is no
communication with the outside world whatever ; second, the
disappearance of memory, all types of imagery, associational
processes, reason, and isolated ideas.
THE WANING OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 51
In the very earliest stages of anesthesia, probably for the first
ten seconds, the visual sense is slightly stimulated. The colors
in the spectrum appear a little brighter, letters and figures some-
what clearer, and the light in the operating room, which is
always very bright, seems a little more intense. Hearing, for
the first few minutes, was almost normal, save a slight roaring,
which for a considerable time did not appear to interfere seri-
ously with perfect audition. At this early stage of the experi-
ment various movements were made to test the kinesthetic sen-
sations. For the most part these sensations appeared normal,
though the ability to innervate seemed difficult, and to initiate a
movement seemed slightly fatiguing. There also appeared in
the movements themselves two illusions which were watched
with a great deal of interest. First, all movements made ap-
peared to be much longer than they actually were. A slight
movement of the tongue appeared to be magnified at least ten
times. Clinching the fingers and opening them again produced
the feeling of their moving through a space of several feet.
Winking gave the peculiar feeling of a great curtain slowly
shutting out the light and as slowly rolling back again. Second,
all movements seemed much slower than they actually were.
Almost from the first this illusion was noticeable, yet the attend-
ants did not detect, in the reactions to the movement stimuli
given, any tendency to make the movement slower than under
normal conditions. The tactile sense in the early stages of the
experiment seemed slightly dulled to the touch of the pointed
instrument, yet it could be very distinctly sensed, and accurately
localized. At the close of the first two minutes it may be said
that there existed a general bodily stupor, accompanied by
decidedly pleasant feelings throughout. Senses were slightly
damped down and consciousness was agreeably lethargic.
In the three tests made by the writer, the first sense to break
down under the influence of chloroform is hearing. While
vision is still perfectly clear, and the tactile sense only slightly
blunted, audition has begun rapidly to wane. The roaring in
the ears, previously mentioned, increases and is accompanied
by occasional loud buzzes and thumps. The voice of the as-
sistant who continued reading throughout the test appeared to
52 ELMER E. JONES.
lose its articulatory value, and short words could not be heard at
all, and all words became considerably fused and blurred.
Eventually only an occasional very long word could be identi-
fied, and this with great difficulty. Direction of sound was lost
very early — about the time when the smaller words were first
heard indistinctly. After this the words heard appeared to
come from nowhere, and the familiar intonations of the assis-
tant's voice could no longer be recognized. After eight minutes
the auditory sense is completely damped down and silence
reigns.
It should be said just here that all the deeper conscious
states are perfectly normal at this time. Memory is not im-
paired, the imagination is very active, and a problem in addi-
tion was added with as much ease as under normal conditions.
The tactile sense is the second to disappear under the in-
fluence of chloroform. As in the muscular sense, so here we
find some interesting illusions. At one stage of the experiment
when the foot was touched with the pointed instrument, it seemed
so far away that the subject wondered if it were possible that
his whole body were in a single room. With the disappearance
of the tactile sense and hearing the body has completely lost its
orientation. It appears to be nowhere, simply floating in space.
It is a most ecstatic feeling. Consciousness is now almost pure
ideas ; it is free from any disturbing stimuli from the sense
organs, and is probably just about what is meant traditionally by a
free spirit, though it is quite evident that is has decided limita-
tions. My feelings corresponded very closely with Cardinal
Newman's description of death in Gerontius's Dream when he
says,
" Down, down, forever I was falling,
Through the solid framework of created things."
Closely following the disappearance of the tactile sense all
muscular control is lost. Muscles are contracted with great
difficulty, and innervation is greatly weakened. But it is inter-
esting to note that after all movements have ceased, it is still
possible to send the impulse to the proper muscles from the
motor centers in the brain. At least there is a distinct feeling
of the impulse so moving. This experiment, thus, throws some
THE WANING OF CONSCIOUSNESS. 53
light upon the much discussed question of sensations of innerva-
tion.1 If the impulse is clearly felt to pass from the motor
centers during partial anesthesia, when it is impossible for the
slightest movement to be made in response to it, it seems quite
clear that there must be such sensations ; for all other factors
save the inauguration of the impulse and its passing have been
eliminated.
The last movements to disappear are the most highly spe-
cialized ones. The figures could be moved for a considerable
time after the biceps and triceps refused to contract. The
organs of speech could be innervated to movement a consider-
able time after most other muscles refused to act, but of course
speech was defective, and the attendants stated that after seven
minutes, words could not be understood because the tongue was
unable to make the finely coordinated movements necessary
for articulation. However, tongue movements and movements
of the eyes were the very last to disappear.
At this stage of the anesthesia the sense element in conscious-
ness has practically been eliminated, but it remains for us to
say a few words with reference to vision. This sense yields to
the influence of chloroform more slowly than any other. So-
long as the eyes could be held open voluntarily, vision seemed
quite normal, save that the colors of the spectrum faded out
into a gray band, and the details of objects could not be seen
very well. It was quite clear that the peripheral regions of the
retina are the first to be affected, and that as the anesthesia
advances the visual field becomes smaller. After all muscular
control was lost the eyelids of the subject were opened by an
attendant and vision was still quite distinct. All colors of the
spectrum were faded out, but light and shadow, and the distinct
outline of objects could be discerned. Figures and letters could
not well be seen, but larger objects as a book, a watch, a
pencil, and a hat were easily recognized. However, at this
stage of the anesthesia the whole visual field seemed smoky
and gradually faded out into shadows and darkness.
After all sensations were damped down completely there
1 McDougall, Physiological Psychology, p. 87. Woodworth, Le Mouvcmtnt,
P- 45-
54 ELMER E. JONES.
still remained an inner consciousness which for the most part
was perfectly normal. Memory seemed pretty accurate, and
the reasoning powers only slightly deficient. At this stage the
subject successfully imaged the faces of several friends, at least
two rural scenes, and a piece of music ; but failed to image cer-
tain familiar movements, such as throwing a ball, lifting a
weight, and mounting a horse. An easy theorem in geometry
was demonstrated, and each step in the whole process was as
clearly seen as if the subject had had a figure before him and
could have used his eyes and vocal organs in following out the
various processes before him. The memory was tested by re-
peating a short poem, which was perfectly easy, and by think-
ing of the names of the presidents in order beginning at Wash-
ington. This latter task seemed more difficult, and James
Monroe was the last one that could be recalled. At this point
there appeared a pretty general disintegration of ideas, and all
associations seemed considerably broken. Ideas actually ap-
peared in spatial relations to each other and many miles apart.
They were so infinitesimal that they disappeared very readily,
leaving an entire blank. These lingering ideas were some of
the very first ones gained in life. Memories of boyhood's
home, parents, brothers, sisters, playmates almost forgotten,
conceptions of a religious nature long since discarded, and a
few aesthetic feelings of early childhood. These last ideas, it
is true, were so vague and indistinct that they could scarce be
recognized, yet the fact that they remained so long as the re-
sidual of weakened cerebral activity shows how deep-seated
they are in the mental constitution.
TRUTH AND AGREEMENT.1
BY PROFESSOR J. E. BOODIN,
University of Kansas.
Both realists and idealists have joined in maintaining that
truth is agreement with reality. But they have failed to state
the nature of this agreement. Is truth a duplicate of reality or
is it merely symbolic of reality? If the latter, what is the
rationale of inventing this symbolism? Dogmatic realism and
dogmatic idealism alike fail to break up reality and so fail to show
the different meaning of agrement, according as truth is a copy-
ing process or is an artificial device. I hope to make these
problems a little clearer in this paper.
The problem of correspondence was a simple affair for naive
realism, because naive realism only dealt with one kind of stuff,
one grade of reality. Whether it is a case of like perceiving
like, as with Empedocles, or opposites perceiving opposites :
cold perceiving hot; the light, the dark; etc., as with Anax-
agoras, we still remain within the one nexus of changes ; we still
have one kind of stuff. This is equally true of the effluences
of Empedocles, the eidwXa of Democritus, and the forms of
Aristotle and the Schoolmen, with the passive imprint which
these forms are supposed to make upon the the wax tablet of the
mind. With a sharp distinction between mind and body, which
took definite form with Augustine and was revived by Descartes,
the difficulties as to how one set of processes can make a differ-
ence to another set of processes, thickened. So we have the
terminism of Occam and the phenomenalism of Hume and
Kant. There can, on this view, be no correspondence between
1 Since sending this paper to the publisher, I have read Professor Baldwin's
splendid chapter on 'Truth and Falsity," Thought and Things, Vol. II., Ch.
XIII. This takes up the same problem from the genetic point of view, and
with important agreements in some instances. As I cannot adequately recog-
nize Professor Baldwin's novel treatment without writing a new paper, I offer
this as a supplement to the same discussion, dealing with the problem from the
more traditional approach.
55
56 /. E. BOODIN.
knowledge and reality, for knowledge moves within a world of
its own. It is at most a sign language. We can know nothing
about the real world. We know it only as it terminates and is
elaborated in our experience. There can, however, be phe-
nomenal verification or anticipation within experience. The
world of shadows, also, to use Platonic language, has its uni-
formities, which make prediction possible. If we are doomed
to the world of shadows, we can at least get ready for future
shadows.
Idealism, in insisting again upon one kind of stuff, /. <?.,.
mind stuff, tries to return to the original simplicity of like
acting upon like. So long as the question of the ego is not
raised, the problem is easily stated as merely purposive realiza-
tion or logical connection within one context or unity of thought.
When the question is raised, however, as to whose experience
or unity, the problem grows more difficult. The idealist must
either raise himself into a solipsistic absolute or, in modestly
recognizing his own finitude, face the dualism of an internal
and external meaning, and struggle over the seeming frag-
mentariness and darkness of our world.
A new theory of knowledge has been developed in recent
times by William James and others, which tries to avoid the
idealistic difficulty and presumption by treating knowledge as
merely an instrument having no relevancy to the object to be
known, but being valid in case it can be exchanged, in the
course of the process, for immediate experience, as wares are
exchanged for gold. While such a theory, with abundant illus-
trations from natural science, accounts for how knowledge can
control the world of processes, it leaves us in the dark as to the
real question — the relevancy of knowledge to its object.
Before we can have purposive selection and correspondence,
our selection is determined by our instinctive tendencies. The in-
fant does not have any definite program ; it is not as yet a self and
so is not concerned about self-realization. It is so constituted,
however, as to respond in characteristic ways to certain stimuli,
such as moving things, bright things, loud things, things to eat,
to grasp, to be afraid of, etc. There is no question of intention
here and therefore no question of truth. The infant, as the
TRUTH AND AG/tEEMBNT. 57
result of the evolutionary process, is such a slot as can be set
off by just such pennies. What adaptation, fitness or corre-
spondence to its environment there is, means fitness or corre-
spondence only to a more developed stage of experience. Its
movements do indeed show a certain degree of adaptation, its
sense-responses may be said to correspond to stimuli of so many
vibrations per second. But they do not mean correspondence to
the infant.
Agreement means agreement only when we intentionally
select in the realization of a certain purpose. Only then does
truth or error exist. If I point to Peter when I mean Paul, to
white when I mean black, I have failed to carry out my intent
and so have erred. To correspond or agree means to realize
my purpose or at any rate to be able to act as if my hypothesis
were true. Correspondence, however, has a two-fold signifi-
cance, the instrumental relation of the knowing attitude to its
object and that of sharing, to use a Platonic term.
In so far as reflective thought sets its own conditions, irrespec-
tive of the inner meaning of the processes, to which it refers,
aiming simply at prediction or control of the object as a means
to its own purposes — in so far thought is instrumental. Whether
the object has any meaning itself or not, such meaning or claim
is ignored. And thought must always be instrumental when it
deals with that which is immediate and which, therefore, is
transformed and done violence to in being dealt with reflectively.
This is equally true of brute immediacy and of immediacy on
the higher aesthetic level, which presupposes thought life. If
reality, therefore, in its ultimate meaning must be conceived as
mystical appreciation, which passes knowledge, as the mystics
from Plotinus to Bradley have insisted, then knowledge would
always have to be instrumental. Again, in bringing our cate-
gories — the result of our instinctive equipment and social, his-
toric setting — to bear upon the sense material which furnishes
us with our data of nature, with its coexistences and sequences,
we can only hope to have instrumental or phenomenal knowl-
edge. We cannot agree that because nature can be made to
realize purposes, it is itself purposive, any more than because
a knife cuts meat it must itself be meat. It must indeed be
58 J. E. BO ODIN.
something, i. e., it must be capable of making predictable dif-
ferences to us. But we cannot treat it as purposive. If there
is purpose governing nature, it must be extra-natural, determin-
ing survival. The old idea of correspondence, which Kant
subjected to such searching criticism, deals with this relation of
the concept to the non-reflective or physical world. Here it is
easy to show that there can be no real correspondence or copy-
ing as we cannot get at, much less reproduce, the inwardness of
the processes which we investigate. We make the system of
nature — unify it, in obedience to our tendencies, on the one
hand, and the data of immediate experience on the other — so as
to meet the requirements of the environment and, so far as
possible, control it for our needs. We are here limited to
phenomena.
Sometimes even knowledge of ideal objects is legitimately
of this instrumental kind. Treating the circle as made up of
infinitesimal straight lines, though convenient, does not corre-
spond even with our ideal reality. The census tables do not
correspond to any real order. They are sorted facts for an arti-
ficial purpose. Sometimes we ignore the claims of the reflec-
tive consciousness, because we regard it as criminal or pernicious
to our standards of truth and right. But sometimes we ignore the
claims of other meanings because of our moral blindness. The
cardinal crime, the crime of crimes, as Kant has shown, is to
neglect the inner significance of our fellowman and to treat him
merely as a thing. What we respect as having a claim on its
own account must differ widely, too, in different stages of de-
velopment. For the savage, what is outside of the tribe has no
meaning which needs to be respected. On the other hand,
nature phenomena, ghosts, etc., are treated with more than
human respect. In general we find that it is easy to recognize
a meaning if it agrees with our own, but difficult the greater
the divergence.
Knowledge may be instrumental, then, for two reasons. It
may be instrumental because it lies in a different dimension from
the object it strives to know. It may be a systematic arrange-
ment, in the service of our purposes, of facts which themselves
know no system. This must hold wherever science deals with
TRUTH AND AGREEMENT. 59
non-reflective facts, as with the physical sciences. It holds of
the psychological sciences, too, when they are not dealing with
processes of the reflective or meaningful grade, or when they
are decomposing the reflective attitude for purposes of natural-
istic description. In so far as our analysis and reconstruction
must always fall short of the real object, all our knowledge be-
comes infected more or less with the instrumental character.
We can never, in our description, give the complete equivalents
of the real gold or the real Socrates. This can be only when
our purpose creates its own object.
But some objects of knowledge at any rate have a meaning
of their own, a rational purpose and value, which we must ac-
knowledge. Even here, knowledge, to be sure, must be in some
degree instrumental, as we have seen ; but this is only incidental,
a stage in the process of sharing or sympathizing with the ob-
ject. The problem here is no longer one of mere manipula-
tion. The correspondence here cannot be exhausted in the one-
sided relation of hypothesis to immediacy within the process of
individual experience. The judging attitude here is a different
one from that of means and end. The fulfilment of our purpose
here is conditioned upon partaking of an extra-individual realm
of meanings, respecting and sympathizing with them. We do
not want to make over or control Shakespeare's Hamlet or the
Sistine Madonna or the friend that we love. We want to under-
stand and appreciate them. Our knowledge, when it is con-
cerned with social or ideal structures, is primarily of this sharing
character. It is not the business of the historian to make over
the past ; but to understand it or share its meaning. Even when
our aim is that of the practical reformer or when we must revise
the scientific hypothesis, it is first incumbent upon us to under-
stand or share the ideals which we would revise or reinterpret.
To fail to recognize in the universe any purpose but our own, is
to be a bore or a criminal. Some individuals must be respected
as having a meaning of their own and cannot be treated merely
as things, if we would live fairly and, in the end, accomplish
our purposes. To be sure, our limitations as finite beings and
as part of the time-process makes such sharing difficult; but it
remains, nevertheless, a real aim. Plato has a word for us, as
well as the modern instrumentalist.
6o /. B. BO ODIN.
In instrumental knowledge, as we have seen, the question is
merely how the facts seem to us ; how they can be controlled
by us ; whether our concepts terminate in perceptions. Not so
in the knowledge of the sharing type. Here the truth attitude
is not merely an artificial tool, like an astronomical ellipse or a
census table ; but of a piece with the real object which we strive
to know and accommodate ourselves to. The knowing attitude
and the object are of the same kind or belong to the same grade
of reality. In so far as the knowing attitude here can be com-
pletely realized, it is no longer 0/" reality ; but it is reality. To
know the meaning of Hamlet is to have the reality of Hamlet.
Leibnitz's monads are a splendid illustration of a universe
which might exist in many copies.
To be sure, here, too, the concept or hypothesis must ter-
minate in immediate experiences, present or future, within our
individual history. But these become signs, real energies
though they are in their own grade, of another reality which
we strive to reach. We do not stop with the spoken or printed
words. These become symbolic merely of the meaning. The
difference in the two attitudes may be said to be a metaphysical
difference, t. e., a difference as regards the ultimate intent of
the knowing process, rather than methodological. The finite
test of the correspondence in either case, the test available from
moment to moment in individual life — whether in knowledge of
the instrumental or sharing type, is an internal test or the cor-
responding of our purpose or hypothesis with the ongoing of
experience. It means an attitude of fulfilment or forced
acknowledgment in this ongoing.
The knowing process, however, is really valid, only when
it reproduces or copies the object, is the nature of the object.
The only valid hypothesis about a reflective object is the atti-
tude that acknowledges the meaning of the object and succeeds
in sharing it — aims beyond sense-experience at its metaphysi-
cal reality. Whether this aim or intent is true or not must be
tested, as in the instrumental case, with reference to further
experience. But this attitude, if true, terminates in sharing
and not in mere perceptions and their uniformities.
Another center of experience is acknowledged, which has
TRUTH AND AGREEMENT. 6l
put its prior stamp upon our self-stamped facts. The attitudes
in the cases of sharable and non-sharable realities are built out
in different ways ; the former has over-beliefs that the latter
does not have, and so requires a different verification — a veri-
fication including the over-beliefs. When such sharing is im-
possible, we must be satisfied with such artificial or phenomenal
correspondence as the uniformity of our perceptions makes
possible.
By copying I do not mean a mere photographic copy, as is
sometimes meant. I cannot see what meaning such copying
has in the process of knowledge. To suppose, for example,
that our sensations are copies of independent characters of the
object, assumes a duplication of our sensations to which I cannot
subscribe. The sensations are not copies ; they are definite
energetic relations of our psycho-physical organism to the objec-
tive world. Neither are our images as such copies. They are
relatively persistent processes of experience, modified by inter-
vening rearrangement. They become representative when,
at least functionally, they are the same in more than one
context, and therefore when excited in the context of present
experience can suggest another context with its dynamic coeffi-
cient and time value. When it comes to meanings, the question
of copying, even as regards our perceptual meanings, can only
arise when we have in mind the sharing of such meanings by
several subjects. What the copy theory of sensations implicitly
assumes is a social consciousness, finite or absolute, in which
the sensory qualities exist as such, and therefore the individual
must regard them as prior to his experience. But that simply
amounts to that they are not arbitrary, but arise under definite
conditions.
I agree with the realistic insistence upon the transsubjective
reference of the momentary meaning. But the paradox, often
pointed out by the realists, that the object must be both in and
out of experience, must remain an absolute mystery so long as
we deal with meanings as subjective pictures, enclosed within
the magic circle of an epiphenomenal consciousness. This para-
dox is ignored, not solved, by having recourse to mystical or
esthetic theories as regards the continuity of the meaning with
reality. If we, however, regard the universe under the concep-
62 J. E. BO ODIN.
\
tion of plural energetic centers, with various ways of connecting
up, and some at least capable of inner content and meaning ;
and if we regard purposes as themselves energies, evolving in
complexity in conjunction with, and having survival value
through their control of, other energies such as the physiologi-
cal, then the paradox is resolved, even though the practical
limitations remain. We have at least found a motive for our
ideas seeking agreement with their intended reality, for success-
ful adjustment depends upon such agreement.
The object at any rate is more than the intent. If the
drama of reality consists only in a series of subjective doubts,
readjustments and satisfactions, then Protagoras is indeed right,
if we may trust Plato's quotation, that " to whom a thing seems
that which seems is." But in that case, what need could there
be of readjustment within the stream of meanings? Why does
not the meaning at any one time exhaust ' the situation ' ? Why
should there be failure or the necessity for accommodation to a
larger world? Evidently the meaning does not exhaust the
reality of the object.
This inadequacy of the internal meaning to constitute its own
object can be shown equally well on the level of sharing as on
that of instrumental knowledge. Is Ibsen's meaning made or
created in each stage of the process of the reader's interpreta-
tion? Is not the object here something preexisting and external
— not made by the critic? And must not the critic's meaning
conform to this in order to be valid of Ibsen's meaning? By
ideal construction we try to reproduce for ourselves the meaning
of Ibsen's play. We gather data accordingly ; but the truth we
have first when our meaning imitates the other meaning, when
it gives an adequate copy of the other meaning. In such a case
the idealists are quite right that the agreement must be with
truth, an objective constitution of truth, and not merely with
immediate experience. I cannot, however, see what agreement
with truth can mean unless you assume that the object itself is
a truth process. If the universe as a whole is truth, a system
of experience, then of course all truth ought to be a copy proc-
ess. But I do not think this has been proven. Stringing nature on
our reflective unity does not make nature a reflective unity. There
is, in so far as we know, no truth or system in nature. Nature
TRUTH AND AGREEMENT. 63
only furnishes certain changes, interactions and constancies
which we can seize upon and systematize to suit our needs.
In the case of the knowledge of other egos, we easily recog-
nize that there must be not only internal fluency, there must be
also an intent, a creative imagination, taking us beyond the
stream of subjective processes. Other egos must be ejects^ not
mere percepts. Hence no theory of mere fluency or cotermi-
nousness is sufficient. There must be this but more. And if
the other egos respond as if our intent were true, then we share
their meaning. In regard to nature, too, what we intend is not
merely immediate experience, whether sensory or affective.
Sensations are not the object of sensations. Satisfaction does
not give satisfaction. By the uniformity of nature we do
not mean mere sequence within experience, but a regularity in
nature which accounts for the uniformity of our perceptions and
to which we must accommodate ourselves. While in the case
of nature, the inwardness must remain problematic, here too,
as well as in the case of our fellow-men, the ego means more
than the stream of individual experience. It means to meet and
adjust itself to a world beyond that experience, even though
capable of being energetically continuous with it. This objective
reality, in however phenomenal a way, must ratify our intent.
The immediatists themselves have fretted a great deal lately
at their misinterpretation by others. But why should they fret?
Their critics, realists and idealists alike, seem to be satisfied
with their interpretation ; and that is all the immediatists ought
to ask. If they say that the critics ought not to be satisfied,
they have evidently insisted upon a reality beyond immediacy
and something beside subjective satisfaction as the test of truth
— upon correspondence with an objective reality.
We never shall have a true theory of knowledge until we
recognize the complexity of reality in its various stages. We
have seen that those who have made the knowing attitude ex-
clusively instrumental have borrowed their illustrations altogether
from the physical part of reality. They talk about knives and
chairs and chemical formulae. They are apt to ignore another
part of the environment, which to a human being is at least
equally important with the physical, viz., the institutional.
Could the object be treated altogether without any reference to
64 /. E. BOODIN.
any purpose or meaning of its own, then the instrumental theory
would indeed cover the field. Were reality through and through
reflective or conceptual, on the other hand ; must we acknowl-
edge it as one system of meanings, then Plato and all his dis-
ciples would be right, that all knowledge in the end must be
expressed in terms of sharing or imitation — a copy of the inner
meaning of the processes at which it aims. In so far as it
should succeed in this, the distinction between truth and reality
would disappear ; the idea would thicken into being. As it is,
it is both sanity and fair play to treat reality as its nature
demands, instrumentally, where no purpose need be acknowl-
edged ; sympathetically where the conditions so demand.
Whether a man shall be an idealist or a materialist is not a
matter of consistency, but of claims which we must meet.
Where we must recognize ideals, as in dealing with the institu-
tional life of the race, we must be idealists. Where our ideals
have no inner relevancy to the processes with which we deal
and the aim is merely control, we must be materialists. Here
a one-sided a -priori consistency is as mischievous as in other
departments of life. To institutionalize nature by giving it
reflective life and ideals of its own is to leave evidence for
fairy tales. To ignore purposes and meanings, where we ought
to understand and meet them, is to show one's lack of imagina-
tion and unfitness for social life. Thus the truth of Plato, as
well as of Kant and James, is recognized. The one-sidedness
of the instrumental theory consists in ignoring that part of the
evironment which is institutional ; is itself meanings or ideals.
The one-sidedness of Plato and his followers is that they attempt
to institutionalize nature as well as man.
But the instrumental theory does not satisfy the claims of the
successive moments of individual life any more than it does the
social claims. It is not fair to regard each moment of apprecia-
tion or reflection as a mere instrument to another moment. If
each moment has no significance or worth of its own, is a mere
instrument for meeting a future moment, then life as a succes-
sion of moments can have no significance. Instrumentalism,
bare and simple, must lead to brankruptcy. Each moment
must be respected as end, as well as means. Every genuine
moment is a thing of beauty and of joy forever, as well as the
TRUTH AND ACNEEMRNT. 65
parent of a new moment. And again, every false and perverse
moment is a tragedy never remedied, as well as a call for recon-
struction, if there is such a call, or an obstruction to further
living. The universe, in other words, is not merely fluid. If
it were, it would be nothing. Each moment and each stage of
life is an individual reality with its own warm and living mean-
ing, which to lose is to lose all.
The knowledge of purpose by purpose I have called real
knowledge. It is so to a degree at least, /'. e.t just so far as the
purpose, whether institutional or individual, is grasped. Real
knowledge is knowledge of the thing-in-itself ; and human pur-
posive wills are among such things. Knowledge of the merely
instrumental kind we may, out of regard for Kant, call phe-
nomenal knowledge. If we say that these attitudes, /'. e.t the
instrumental and sharing attitudes, are different hypotheses in
regard to our world of objects, we must not forget that these
hypotheses, owing to a long survival process, are instinctive or
intuitive so far as the individual is concerned, long before they
become conscious hypotheses or postulates.
The confusion in recent discussions has come in part at least
from the failure to distinguish between truth and reality.1
Truth is our version of reality. The geological ages existed as
characters or processes of reality long before we discovered
them, but the truth about them did not exist before we dis-
covered them. It is nonsense to speak of an hypothesis, which
is our meaning or attitude, as true previous to verification ; but
previous to verification there exist certain conditions, which
make some hypotheses come true. These conditions, in most
cases, are not altered by our hypothesis. The chemical prop-
erties of gold are not altered by our faith ; the condition of our
nerves may be. The * laws ' of nature are contributed by the
man who discovers them ; and science very properly, therefore,
deals with the laws biographically, as Newton's law, Carnot's
law, etc., though once discovered they become social and eternal.
1 It is very evident that we need to use terms in a technical sense in order
to prevent the discussion of truth from being more than a play on words. I
believe, however, that we would only increase the confusion by adopting the
distinction between truth and truthfulness suggested by James in \\\e Journal of
Philosophy, etc., for March 26, 1908. The term truth has a definite meaning,
and it is hardly possible or desirable to change it.
66 J. E. BOODIN.
Nature furnishes existences, uniformities of various sorts, but
no laws, no truth. These laws or expectancies become true
when nature behaves in the predicted way. This is all that cor-
respondence in regard to nature means. It is not a one to one
correspondence, as we only hit at best a few places of reality ;
and only a few are significant for us. Truth, looked at from
the individual point of view, becomes agreement with truth,
when we imitate or make our own truths already existing, hy-
potheses already verified, social truths. Here we do copy truth,
within the limitations of human nature. Truth need not mean,
and cannot except to a small extent mean, individual verification.
An hypothesis or law is true, if some one has really verified it.
Going over it again in such a case does not make it true. It
simply relieves our nervousness and confirms our belief. But
our belief or doubt neither verifies nor undoes the verification
of an hypothesis, though it may furnish a motive for testing it.
As I see it, both the anti-pragmatists and the pragmatists
have contributed to the confusion — the anti-pragmatists by
tacitly, often unintentionally, assuming an absolute system of
truth with which we must agree ; the pragmatists by their in-
tense individualism in practically insisting that truth is not
truth, unless it has passed through their particular cranium.
Of course a truth is not my truth unless I make it my own by
going over its grounds, tracing it to its termination in the in-
tended facts. But going over an hypothesis already verified
does not make it true or valid. This is a social fact. Whether
I make it my own or not is tremendously significant for me, but
not, unless I improve upon the hypothesis, a contribution to
truth. Whoever the legatee or individual producer of truth
may be, it is quite sufficient that truth exist in one individual
consciousness, as his systematic meaning, whatever the other
individuals may mean. If everybody should sleep the sleep of
Endymion, there would be no truth. If, on the other hand,
there is an omniscient, ever wakeful God, his possession of the
truth would give it all the validity, that its possession by bil-
lions could possibly give it. The question in any case would
be, Does it terminate in facts? Does it, as judged by either
past or present or future experience, or all of them, meet the
reality we intend or which is forced upon us?
N. S. VOL. XVI. No. 2. March, 1909.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.
TOWARD THE CORRECTION OF SOME RIVAL
METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY.1
BY PROFESSOR GEORGE M. STRATTON,
University of California.
I.
The ampler purpose which marks as a class the psycho-
logical studies of our time is made evident by the variety of ways
in which we can view the one aim of all our work. We should
all agree, I doubt not, that this one aim is to understand the
mental life, to bring it int othe light. Yet this purpose, which in
some careless moment may seem so single and alike for all, can
break up in an instant into a thing of many parts.
To understand a mental fact means, for some of our num-
ber, to dissect it, to show its internal construction ; for another
the center of understanding is reached when we view the thing
in living action, noting its behavior. Still another believes that
no fact is understood until its causes can be told ; or perhaps he
finds chief satisfaction when the fact is put with those that are
like it, when it is classed, defined and named. Another's idea
of understanding is to view the object in its proper system, not
according to mere likeness, but according to vital continuity : it
is part of a person, and cannot be understood except in its full
relation to the self. Another insists on the story of the growth
of the mind in which the fact occurs ; while still another is less
eager for causes than for results, and declares that the effective-
ness of anything living is the key to its explanation, that we
must see its office, its function in the larger economy of life, if
we are to understand it.
'Presidential address, before the American Psychological Association, at
its Baltimore meeting, December, 1908.
67
68 GEORGE M, STRATTON.
This variety of interest is a sign of health in the intellect.
We are supplements, fulfillments, of one another. We are be-
ginning to be aware how intricate is intellectual interest, and
that whatever really interests us about a fact has a place in its
understanding. Pedants may say that to understand is to deal
with the fact after some special mode — that it is analysis, or
narration, or the disclosure of its genesis or of its effects — but
the tide of intellect washes away their petty boundaries. The
mind will play freely around and through its object. What
interests us in the mental life we wish to see inside and out, and
all that it is connected with, all that it can change into, or be
like, or accomplish. No one can set bounds to curiosity, and
science is but curiosity drilled and organized.
This rounded view — let us not call it ' explanation,' for this
is apt to imply an interest merely in causal antecedents ; nor let
us call it ' description ' or ' narration,' for these too readily sug-
gest an utter want of such an interest ; perhaps some less tram-
meled word, like ' explication ' or ' elucidation ' will serve us
best — this free play of the mind over and through its object is
the purpose of our science. It is a wide purpose wherein many
talents cooperate. Our work, we may be thankful, is rich and
vital enough to permit and encourage sects. With perfect
justice we can have and avow our personal preference and
aversion : your gorge rises at the demand to define and classify,
or perhaps to analyze ; but others find in these their meat and
drink, and are unnourished by your explanations and genetic
accounts. Let sects increase, but with them a spirit of tolera-
tion, even a hearty appreciation of diverse gifts. For all our
personal bias, the science itself is catholic, it feels justified of
its children. Whatever rivalry of method there is, then, lies in
us and not at the heart of psychology itself.
Indeed, since in all likelihood the mental world is not a whit
less spacious than the physical, the full explication of the mind
will call for as many sciences as the physical world requires.
What we call psychology is really a writhing brood of young
sciences, and he can have no feeling for the future who would
try to stifle any of them. The apparent rivalry of our aims and
methods is in part but the sign of the coming time when for the
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 69
mind there will be something analogous to physics and chem-
istry and geology and geography and astronomy, organized to
survey in distinct ways the same great system of phenomena.
Thus I make no plea for any special type of explication,
believing as I do in the policy of the ' open door.' The catholic
temper welcomes all these types, since all are needed for the
work. But the policy of the open door, as we know, does not
mean the policy of laissez-faire, does not imply that we are to
keep hands off of these partial methods of understanding men-
tal facts, leaving them undisturbed in their present form. If
the science needs them, it needs that each should be at its best,
that each should show an inward vigor and symmetry, so that
the purpose for which this particular mode of elucidation stands
shall be accomplished with honor and adequacy.
A believer in them all may thus criticize without jealousy,
working for their improvement. And this is what I shall ven-
ture to do, with your indulgence, in the present hour. I shall
speak of the weakness or want of balance that appears in the
exercise of the three methods that have to do with the Signifi-
cance or Office of a mental fact, with Causal Explanation, and
with Analysis. Of these three, the third alone, that concerned
with analysis, will be dealt with at any length. I beg of you
to expect no novelty in what is offered ; it will be at best but a
revisiting of old scenes. Yet our science rightly teaches that
old thoughts reappearing can never seem quite the same.
II.
Those of our number who are attentive to the office and sig-
nificance of mental processes hardly propose, I imagine, to dis-
cover the ultimate end of any mental fact, a work more appro-
priate to philosophy and religion. But in ends that come within
the circle of our observation, psychology has a deep and proper
interest. The role which a single mental item, or which mind
as a whole, plays in the system of observed events has long
attracted men, and they have conceived of it in various ways.
Moralists have dwelt upon the ministry of all outward things to
man and especially to his inner nature. Yet among moralists
there has also been the opposite thought, that contact with the
70 GEORGE M. STRATTON.
physical world, the enlargement of sense-experience, takes
from the mind's power of true perception. The mind is a
prisoner in the body (we remember from our Phcedo], and reason
comes into its own when we withdraw from this world and all
its confusing images. Empiricists, in a somewhat different
vein, have insisted that the very form and structure of the
mind comes from external events ; it is as wax taking the im-
pression of outer things. But in these diverse accounts the one
theme is the influence of the outer world upon the mind.
In contrast to this entire mode of thinking stands parallelism,
the denial that the physical has any real effect upon the mental
life, or contributes to it in any way. But though many of our
number still call themselves parallelists, this does not keep them
from the still more modern thought, different from all those yet
mentioned, that the mind is merely a handmaid of the body.
Instead of asking, why the mind has a body, we now ask why
the body has a mind. Memory and intelligence have ' survival-
value,' we are told, and this explains their presence in the
organism. They perform a function not unlike that of kidney
and liver : they ward off destruction, aid in adaptation and con-
trol, help the group to multiply. The excuse for mind is that
it can get into our muscles. The cognitive operation, says one
of the ablest of our functionalists, has its ' whole significance '
in this, that it is a device ' to further the efficiency of the motor
response ' ; memory, imagination and reasoning are ' simply
half-way houses between stimuli and reactions.' It is not, you
note, that the mental operation has some of its significance in
the fact that it helps the motor apparatus ; it has its whole signi-
ficance in this. We might likewise say that the feet have their
whole significance in the fact that they transport our shoes.
For empirically there is just as much reason to say that the
body contributes to the mind as that the mind helps the body.
The facts, if we divest ourselves of preconceptions, point both
ways. The relation of the mind to the body is most intimate,
and in many respects each appears master and each appears
slave. Now men who are chiefly interested in physiology and
in the development of the body may be excused for viewing all
things as furtherers and modifiers of the bodily life. But I can-
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. *Jl
not but regard it as a weak yielding to external attraction when
we psychologists follow a neighboring science in this particular
bent. A more balanced scientific judgment would be shown if
we refused to regard the mind merely as a servant of the body
or merely as its lord, but stated calmly and without undue
assumption the exact nature of that intercourse between mind
and body that appears under careful scrutiny. In the whole
range of our modern discoveries there is nothing whatever to
indicate that it is truer that intelligence has survival-value than
that the body performs an educative function for the mind.
And this same balance of judgment would also be in harmony
with a right consideration of the reflex-arc, that has influenced
our thought so deeply, making it appear that consciousness is
but a link in a chain whose beginning and end is in the phys-
ical world. All consciousness is motor, all things mental are
for the sake of muscular reactions, we have long been taught
and long been teaching. But the whole process, so far as the
facts are concerned, can quite as well be viewed from the oppo-
site side. Every reaction of ours alters the world of our expe-
rience ; every muscular movement brings a change in the field of
our sensations. The reflex-arc process is in reality circular ; the
motor act, in its turn, stimulates our sensory nerves. And by
looking at the process, no man can tell which is beginning and
which is end.
Now though we be heady, and assume to know outright
what is the entire office and significance of mind, yet our func-
tional method itself commits us in no such a way. The method
simply implies that the mind has some office, has some signifi-
cance that can be discovered empirically. Our true course then
is to advance without prejudice, telling what we find to be the
value of the mental for the physical, but quite as truly the value
of the physical for the mental, and of the mental for itself.
Such a preservation of balance in our functionalism does not
mean the introduction of some special philosophical system into
our science. We shall not be called upon to take sides as to
whether the mental or the physical is the more fundamental of
realities. The rounding of the method will simply make for
poise.
72 GEORGE M, STRATTON.
III.
With this brief word as to the proper method of studying the
office and significance of mental facts, let us pass to explana-
tion, to the interest in causes. Here, as before, I shall urge
the avoidance of unnecessary assumptions, shall urge empirical
reserve.
Now those of us who are interested in causes are right in
assuming that mental events are caused ; so much is proper
and essential to the method. But some of our number do not
stop with this ; they assume that the causes of mental occur-
rence lie exclusively on the physical side. One of our most
honored members, as we all know, leans that way ; usually he
can be relied on to declare that the cause of a particular fact is
neural, and to offer a brain-diagram. The cause of such and
such mental phenomena, he tells us, is the law of habit in the
nervous system. It is not until some special schematism which
he proposes is * incorporated in the brain that such a schem-
atism can represent anything causal? And another whom we
honor states, in his unfaltering way, that the causal relation
cannot apply to things mental but only to things physical.
With persons of this view, it is interesting to mark the sense of
accomplishment they often show, upon translating into neural
terms some definitely observed mental event. Here at last the
facts are actually explained !
No one need object to this easy translation of mental events
into brain events, except that it gives an illusion of discovery.
But it does seem a false step in method when we assert that only
in the region of brain-action is there anything causal. On the
whole it tends to discourage the search for psychological antece-
dents ; it closes the door upon these, and confines the problem
over to a region where as psychologists we are not equipped
to follow it. As a device of research it therefore seems ill-
judged.
The assumption that all causes are physical is due to a num-
ber of motives, of unequal weight. The field of consciousness,
with its deep transformations in sleep and stupor and in those
strange amnesias and resurgences in the hysterical, seems to
display less stability and continuity than does the brain, and
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 73
consequently to be a less hopeful region in which to find steady
causal connections. Yet our increasing sense of the richness
of the unobserved mental life — the rich regions that are beyond
our introspection — will perhaps more and more weaken this
appearance of mental interruption. While we usually assume
that a mental event is connected with some neural process, yet
we can actually observe its frequent connection with certain men-
tal events, and conceivably this connection is universal. To
brush aside all this direct experience of the mental setting, all
the observed connection with other mental facts, and to give ex-
planatory value only to the physical connections seems to me a
kind of affront to the established canons of induction. Does it
not arise in a large measure, not so much from the persuasion
of evidence and of logical need, as from a certain instinctive
emphasis on physical objects — from an extra-scientific preju-
dice to which we are subject and which illicitly affects our
scientific methods?
Moreover if we admit a distinction between things physical
and things mental (and without such a distinction there is no
excuse for psychology's existence), and if we then declare that
the causal relation holds only between physical events, this
naturally implies that the mental event is really uncaused and
not open to ' explanation.' Yet but few are willing to admit the
utter impossibility of a cause for things psychic ; they usually
assume, rather, that mental events are caused, and caused
physically. In this case it is believed that the causal tie not
only binds physical items together, but also can bind a physical
cause to a psychic result. But if we can defend the assertion
that the causal relation can, at least at one end, attach to things
mental, I do not see why theoretically we could not consistently
have the other end also at times attached in the psychic realm.
Our difficulty in conceiving mental objects to be efficient is
largely due, I believe, to physics, with its specialized and rigid
idea of causation. Rather than break with this authoritative
idea, most of us would rather affirm that psychology can never
hope to be an explanatory science.
Yet we must remember that the exact marks which two
events must display before we can regard them as cause and
74 GEORGE M. STRATTON.
effect are themselves, for the most part, determined empirically.
Our tests of the causal relation differ from time to time and from
science to science. The idea of causality should normally be
in a fluid state ; only those of scholastic temper would have it
crystallized. Psychology, like any other science, is free to
modify the idea of causation to suit its own system of facts.
Indeed we have in something very close to Hume's account a
conception to our needs. When we are ready to regard as
causal any group of antecedents that observation invariably dis-
closes, then we are freed from the a-priori assumption that
causes must always be physical. In our psychology we then be-
come empiricists instead of a-priorists, and our method of ex-
planation no longer carries an unnecessary load. We are ready
to accept as a cause whatever on sufficient observation seems to
be a cause. If, after careful testing, the causes all turn out to
be physical, well and good ! But observation itself does not as
yet point strongly that way. And in assuming what test and
observation do not indicate, are we not making a somewhat fool-
ish concession to that impulse to settle things off-hand and to
regard as ineffectual whatever cannot be weighed and handled?
With this we may pass from the method of explanation. I
trust you will not think the meaning here to be that psychic
causality should supplant the physical in our work. On the
contrary my intention is that we should impartially accept any
causes that can show credentials, whether they come from the
physical or the mental realm. The unencumbered truth seems
to be, that the cause of anything mental is always a strange
mixture of elements from both regions. If you and I prefer to
lay stress on one of these sides to the neglect of the other, this
should be recognized as a personal trait, a matter of taste or
convenience, and not as the outcome and utterance of the scien-
tific method itself.
IV.
In the two important types of elucidation that we have con-
sidered— the functional and the explanatory — the eye plays
over the surroundings of the phenomenon, taking in its outer
connections or setting. We shall now turn to a different type
of investigation in which the attention is held upon the phe-
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 75
nomenon itself, noting its inherent character. The frequent
defects in this mode of research seem to me so to color the sup-
posed « results ' of our work that mere carnal considerations of
fatigue must not prevent a somewhat extended discussion of it.
An account confined to the phenomenon itself may take a
form either narrative or descriptive ; but in either case, at the
heart of the method lies analysis. And with regard to analysis
and the test of its success, most persons would agree with G.
H. Lewes, that it is perfect « when the pieces that are obtained
can be put together again, and form the original whole.' Psy-
chological analysis accordingly is understood to mean the dis-
covery of the constituent elements of the mental fact before us
— its sensations, perhaps also its affective features, or whatever
else is regarded as belonging to its simple ingredients. In
thinking of this analytic work the picture that almost inevitably
comes to mind is from the chemical laboratory, when, for in-
stance, water is broken up into hydrogen and oxygen, in the
proportion of two to one ; or sulphuric acid into H, S, and O, in
the proportion of two to one to four. On receiving such a de-
scription of the fact we seem admitted to its secret constitution.
Yet in attempting to carry out a similar analysis in psychol-
ogy a difficulty at once confronts us. Is the nature of the
mental compound accurately seized, after all, when we have
told off its constituents, even in their right proportion? To
many students no such scruple occurs ; for them, to recount the
simple parts is to describe in the one perfect way the complex
fact itself. And yet nothing, it seems to me, could well be
farther from the truth. For the original mental fact which
we would describe has, in most instances, what we might call
architectural features, and its nature and quality consists not
only in the character of its materials but in the manner of their
union or arrangement.
If chemical analysis has misled us here, it can also set us
right. For chemists are now familiar with the fact that the
same elements, combined in exactly the same proportion, may
give now one compound and now another, each with its own
peculiar properties. And therefore in fully describing such
compounds the chemist is forced to tell, not simply the elements
76 GEORGE M. STRATTON.
that enter into them, but their manner of arrangement : this
compound has a right-hand arrangement of its atoms, this other
compound shows a reverse order, a left-hand arrangement.
Lactic acid, tartaric acid, and a number of other substances,
reveal differences of this kind.
Any analysis that names merely the ingredients may there-
fore miss the full truth ; it may note no difference in compounds
that actually are different. The safe and reliable description
of the more complex mental facts accordingly requires that our
idea of analysis be revised to include an attention to the archi-
tectural features of such phenomena, including of course their
manner of change. Or if we prefer to let analysis mean what
it ordinarily has meant, then only when analysis is supplemented
by an account of the form of the process or object is there any
guarantee that the description will be faithful to all the fulness
of the reality. *
Let us think of mental fusion — e. g.> of two tones — and
its well-known differences of grade or completeness ; or let us
recall the different degrees of associative connection amongst
ideas — as when 'health' is more loosely associated with
* wealth ' than with ' sunshine.' Would it seem more reason-
able to describe these differences as due to the presence (or
absence) of special elements in each case? Or would it not
seem rationally more inviting to suppose that the same elements
in exactly the same proportions can change their relations,
change their degree of intimacy or cohesiveness? — somewhat
as a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen, upon application of a
match that causes it to explode, undergoes a profound change
of relation without any difference in the number or quality
or proportion of the original elements. Two ideas, one in
your mind and one in mine; two ideas in the same mind, one
of them present yesterday and the other present to-day ; two
ideas in the same mind at the same time but in dissociated sys-
tems of thought ; two ideas associated by ' contiguity ' ; two
ideas in intimate judgmental union ; — each of these pairs stands
out against the others ; you cannot fail to notice a mental jar as
you pass from one to the next. And yet I find myself quite
unable to describe them with any hope of success except in
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 77
terms of relation. By merely listing different « elements ' as
present or absent, I feel utterly amiss as to the true properties
of these astonishingly contrasting examples of reality. The
difference is most naturally and successfully described as a dif-
ference of position, a difference of mental locality, rather than
as an influx or dropping-out of special elements.
V.
With regard to the analytic method, I have so far hardly
more that expressed my conviction that we cannot describe with
accuracy our more elaborate mental processes so long as we
take account merely of their constituents. It would now per-
haps be well to indicate, by an illustration or two, the working
of the method in this revised form, even though one cannot
hope to show the rich and definite detail that it would lead to if
skilled hands were to use it with the perseverance that has
marked the more traditional analytic search.
And first of all, when it is said that the nature of a mental
fact lies in its architecture as well as in its materials, we should
not expect this metaphor to go on all fours. The formal char-
acter of anything psychic is rarely fixed, like the plan and ele-
vation of a building ; oftenest it is like that of a flame or a dust-
eddy, perpetually changing though with a definite character
maintained. And a true account must set forth this instability
of the process, this shift and leap of arrangement. In emotion,
for example, one can hardly fail to note the inconstancy. The
constituents of anger, could they all rest together as a stable
compound, would lack the peculiar qualities of anger. And so
of fear. The shift of attention, the swing and rebound of im-
pulse, the storm of organic sensation — all these are character-
istic marks, especially of the more restless emotions.
But quite as characteristic as this flutter of attention, of im-
pulse, and of sensation — this form of the process when we
view it in its temporal progress — is the peculiar arrangement
at the acme of the emotional course. The interest, the atten-
tion, while agitated, makes its swift excursions within rather
narrow bounds. The mental field is often of limited range ;
great systems of ideas and impulses are in abeyance, dissociated
78 GEORGE M. STRATTON.
from the group in control. And in the controlling system the
somatic sensations have a place, but no central place ; the in-
terest is at a distance from them ; they serve as a background
against which the object of the emotional stir appears. Or,
perhaps better, they are the murky atmosphere through which
the object is descried. If, for a moment, you become interested
in your organic turmoil, you have transposed on the instant the
normal order of things ; even though all the old constituents
can still be found, yet the emotion itself has momentarily been
destroyed. I have at certain times of emotional stress basely
directed my attention to the sweep of organic impressions.
Turning upon them they still continue with considerable life ;
but the state as a whole has now become one of curious and
controlled observation, contrasting strangely with the passion
that went before.
Thus the essence of emotion lies in many things ; but some
portion of that essence certainly is in the way the parts are put
together at the moment and in their succession. There is a
scale and order of importance which the items must observe —
a scale which we may afterwards in memory review, but which
in the active present is unrecognized. The emotion does not
consist in the impulses, nor in the attention, nor in the somatic
sensations, nor in all of these together. It is in the manner of
behavior of them all — in their hurry and rush and conflict. It
is in their interplay, in their system and order, in their manner
of grouping — with certain of them at the center and certain of
them to the rear and around.
And something like this seems true also of our acts of will.
There is often here a mass of sensations coming from the striped
muscles and less predominantly from the unstriped. But these
of themselves are but the raw material of the volitional fabric, and
but part of the raw material at that. Indeed they can almost,
if not wholly, disappear, as in the case of intentional thinking,
and there still remain the characteristic look of will.
The anticipation of the outcome of our act, the presence of
an idea of our reaction to the stimulus before the reaction
itself has taken place, is an essential constituent of a voluntary
act. Yet though essential, it is not, as some have held, suffi-
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 79
cient. For in reflexes that have occurred frequently — like
winking or the patellar reflex — as the stimulation approaches,
I can foresee the muscular response ; yet for all this anticipation,
the action does not seem voluntary. So, too, there are with all
of us certain trains of association so familiar that we can, on the
approach of the initial idea, foresee in dim conception its associa-
tional train coming on with the fatality of knee-jerk. Imagine
one who never carves a tough roast but that he must burst out
into the inevitable mis-quotation,
' O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of flesh,
That I am meek and gentle with these batchers ! '
He — but first his friends — come finally to see the shadow of
its approach ; yet here there is no mark of true volition. The
outcome has not been sought and summoned.
And this too, must be said when attention is made almost
the equivalent of will. Of itself attention lacks the full form and
structure of the volitional act. I can have my attention on my
knee-jerk or on some associational train, and yet not will this
nor will its opposite. And yet no act of will is complete without
attention ; I must have in the forefront of consciousness what I
intend. And since attention itself may be voluntary, the com-
plete act of will may seem at times almost coterminous with the
attentive act.
Attention, anticipation of the outcome, and often a mass of
sensations from muscles and tendons and joints, are among the
constituents of will ; but not until they are all rightly ranged is
the will there. The event must not only be foreseen, but ap-
proved, sought, adopted. Only then do we have the true flavor
of intention. The unwilled, but foreseen, act is, in a sense,
mine, but it does not have the right relation to the dominant
center of my mental system. It seems to belong to some sub-
ordinate and outlying part, loosely bound to the whole. The
willed occurrence, so far as we can see, would not attain reality
except for its intimate relation to this energetic central system ;
and in its coming it is greeted and adopted as part of this sys-
tem. When voluntarily solving a problem, the answer to the
problem, while still unknown, is consented to, sought and
adopted ; then the actual solution, when it comes, takes the
So GEORGE M. STRATTON.
place of this empty volitional wraith ; and the core of us, all
waiting, embraces the definite and concrete fulfillment. Sensa-
tional and affective elements are in the process at every point,
as steel and steam are in an engine. But we may name the
elements to perfection, without a perfect description of the active
whole. The sensations from muscles and joints, the associa-
tional image of the outcome, the pleasurable and painful ele-
ments— these are but stuff and filling of a reality whose more
interesting features appear in the changing form and movement
of these and in their arrangement around a center already
complexly organized. The characteristic nature of will is not
found wholly in what is simple and unanalyzable — although
there is plenty of such within it — but also in the drill and offi-
cering of all that here has a place. The same units differently
organized could be something quite different, just as the men
of a military company might, when properly combined, be an
athletic club or a prayer meeting or a fire brigade.
VI.
A number of objections must have occurred to you in lis-
tening to accounts like these. In the first place, they are not
clear cut, not light and intellectually portable, like the results
of the more familiar analyses. But much of the blame for this
may perhaps be cast upon the facts, rather than upon the
method. Simplicity of account is not the end and aim of our
work. If the facts are complicated, as I believe them to be,
the description of them will also have to be complicated. In
scientific work we are always tempted to ascribe to concrete re-
ality a more elemental character than it actually possesses ; per-
haps description would be impossible unless we yielded in some
measure to this temptation. But we should make a stout fight
and yield no more ground than we have to. I admit that were
I required to describe the great monument here in Baltimore, it
would be easier and in a sense more intelligible and far less
liable to error to say merely that it is a combination of marble
and cement with perhaps a dash of bronze. The more ambi-
tious attempt that went into the exact form of the statue and of
the column and base could not compare with it in compactness
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 8 1
and scholastic cut ; but nevertheless with all its shortcomings
the more complicated description would be moving in a right
direction. So in the present case ; whatever we may agree as
to the inaccuracy of the descriptions I have offered in illustra-
tion, let not this conceal from us their general trend, nor preju-
dice the question whether their method may not, after all,
assure us of a more complete, even though more confusing,
picture of the facts.
Farther than this, some of you may have wondered whether,
in the method I am commending, there is virtually anything
more than an emphasis on those ' relational elements,' * feelings
of relation,' « transitive states,' familiar to us all. I am perhaps
mistaken in thinking that the two modes of viewing the case,
while having much in common, are not identical. Relational
elements, feelings of relation and the like are often in effect con-
ceived as but one more material or ingredient added to the rest,
added to sensations and to pleasure and unpleasantness. And
the account then pursues the evil course of describing a mental
fact by attention to its stuff and materials only. In other cases,
even when the relations are not regarded as stuff and material,
yet they are conceived as different from those which it seems to
me necessary to invoke. For often by the form of a mental fact
writers mean simply the intellectual bond that holds the parts
together — the relations yW/ between them. But in reality the
arrangements of mental data are by no means confined to the
relations felt at the moment ; indeed they need not be felt at any
time by the person in whose direct experience they occur.
When an idea that arose yesterday in my mind is followed by
an idea to-day, the succession is real, even though there be no
feeling in me of the succession, no awareness of the relation.
An illusory spatial distortion may have now one direction and
now another, without the relation between the two distortions —
that is, their difference of direction — being cognized or felt in
any way. All such relations are of course capable of being felt
and known, but their esse does not consist in being felt and
known. They therefore seem to me quite apart from anything
properly to be called a relational feeling or an intellectual
relation.
82 GEORGE M. STRATTON.
All this seems still more clearly true when we bear in mind
the many other varieties of relation which accurate description
must use — subordination and prominence, position within and
without the focus of interest, changes of rate and direction,
especially those deep reversals so characteristic of the emotional
state. Here the incessant change which is part of the very
substance of the process occurs not only in the attention, but in
the sensations, in the hedonic tone, in the impulses. It there-
fore is not a modification in some intellectual process exclusively,
nor does it have to appear before the intellect in order to be real.
Nor can we regard as an intellectual relation or as a feeling of
relation the interplay of certain mental groups, the indifference
or dissociation of other groups, noticeable in psychic health and
disease.
With regard to many of these relations we therefore seem
forced into a kind of realism. Some relations are represented
in the -psychic state itself, as connectives directly experienced at
the moment. When I pass from sunshine into shadow the
difference may be felt; when I look over this room now and
look over it again a moment later, the likeness may be felt.
Here there is what a certain one of our association would call
a ' relational element' in the state. But in other instances the
relation has no representative in the state at all — for example,
when I pass from sunshine into shadow and do not notice the
difference, or when I see the same object twice and lack all
feeling whatever that it is the same. The relation of likeness
or difference is now no less real, it does not the less characterize
the experience, that the relation has no conscious place in the
experience itself. A host of real relations thus apply to mental
data, without necessarily having any conscious presence or
representatives among these data. And we must make use of
these relations in our psychological description even when we
cannot find them there as ' elements ' in the fact we would
describe — just as a chemist makes use of the relations of space
and time, without scruple, even though they do not appear in
his list of elements along with iron, oxygen, and sulphur.
CORRECTION OF RIVAL METHODS IN PSYCHOLOGY. 83
VII.
Thus we are at the end of all that I can in any conscience
ask your attention to, in my review of some of our methods of
understanding the mind. What has here been said in regard
to explication, whether of causes, or of the office and signifi-
cance, or of the inner constitution of a mental fact, moves (as
you may have noticed) about a certain common center. My
sympathy throughout is with a scientific psychology, a psy-
chology exact in its methods, intellectually clear as to its pur-
pose, that appreciates its bond and debt to other sciences and
yet has a fund of self-respect. Psychology will one day, in
all probability, have a dominant place among the sciences, in-
stead of its present somewhat humble rank. During the whole
2,300 or more years of its existence psychology seems almost
always to have been passing through an impressionable period.
I need not recount how at one time all her thoughts go out to
metaphysics or, again, to logic, while later it is mathematics
that controls. The strong influence of physics in our day, the
strong influence of physiology and the sciences of organic de-
velopment— all this indicates a nature admirably docile, but
with a touch of immaturity. A great need in the past has been
to learn the use of the tools and methods of the physical sciences.
With the present and future the increasing need will be of
critical courage to adapt these tools and methods to our own
stubborn object. We have our own peculiar field and prob-
lems. If physics develops an idea of causation appropriate to
its work, it does not follow that it will be entirely appropriate
to ours. Nor does it follow that because it is inappropriate to
our work, that we should thereupon declare that no causal con-
nection exists among psychic facts. A loosening and limber-
ing of our fixed ideas about causality has therefore seemed to
me desirable ; our explanations would be better with less assur-
ance beforehand as to the exact place where causes are to be
found, and as to the exact color and marking that is to make
them acceptable.
In a like spirit it has seemed to me well to keep our methods
clear of any declaration beforehand for either physical ends or
psychic ends exclusively. The facts can be looked at in each
84 GEORGE M. STRATTON.
way and in both ways, and our method should here leave us
full scientific freedom.
And finally, to carry farther this recognition of the full rights
of what is mental, I have urged that our account of the inner
constitution of psychic facts be not narrowly limited by the
older idea of chemical analysis. We should recognize, as the
more modern chemists have been forced to do, that description
is more than a statement of elements and their proportions ;
that other relations and modes of interconnection are important.
We should, moreover, not be surprised to see modes of inter-
connection in the psychic field that are not recognized in the
physical sciences ; and if we actually do see them, our method
should place no obstacle in the way of their recognition. My
own feeling is, that with our methods thus purified the work
will have more the character of a frank and open investigation,
and less that of a system moving by imitation and prejudgment \
it will therefore be more truly scientific in its spirit.
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY —
WITH PHILOSOPHY OR WITH THE
NATURAL SCIENCES?1
BY PROFESSOR J. MxcBRIDE STERRETT,
George Washington University.
You will thank me, I am sure, for an act of mercy. Instead
of reading the whole of a very long address prepared for the
occasion, I will make enough omissions from it, to leave half an
hour for your discussion of the topic * — of the topic, I say rather
than of the address, because custom has sanctioned the Presi-
dent's address as taboo.
I am indebted to a happy accident for the topic. I need not
tell you how many seductive themes offered themselves. . . .
Then I reflected that ours was a society for psychology as well
as for philosophy. So I went to the Library of Congress to look
through some of the recent works on psychology. Somewhat
to my surprise I found the works on experimental psychology
classified under the heading of Physiology.
Thus under physiology are grouped experimental psychol-
ogy, physiological chemistry and experimental pharmacology.
That was the accident that suggested the topic which I wish to-
open for your discussion — i. £., the title of our society: The
Southern Society for Philosophy and Psychology , or more
specially the conjunction and between the two socii — philoso-
phy and psychology. For the geographical part of our title is
of minor import. In the North there are two separate societies
— one for philosophy and one for psychology. Our provincial
title, Southern, however, goes with a more generous and organic
view. But it might be said that we meet together as one society
only because we are too few and too scattered to be able to main-
tain two societies. I take the higher and more genial view —
1 President's address before the Southern Society for Philosophy and Psy-
chology, Baltimore, December, 1908.
2 The topic was discussed at some length by Professor J. G. Hume and Pro-
fessor Ladd. (See PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN, Feb., 1909).
85
86 /. M ACER IDE STERRETT.
the old-fashioned view of the organic kinship between philosophy
and psychology. Yes, we are sociae — mother and daughter,
philosophy and psychology.
In what I have to say to-day I must not be taken as ques-
tioning for a moment, the desirableness of our union. Nothing
could be further from my thought than to suggest a divorce in
this domestic circle. It is quite possible however that the um-
bilical-cord-interpretation of the conjunction and will not be ac-
cepted by all the members of our own society. There is room
for debate on the general subject. I need not remind you how
philosophy suffered by the self-ex-matriation of many of her
childrem. ... Is psychology, we may ask, one of these
ingrates?
Is it to be a case of the cuckoo in the sparrow's nest? Or is
it not, perchance, a case of the ugly duckling? — the arising of
a new science — a beautiful daughter of the more beautiful
mother? The new psychology has been coquetting with natu-
ral science, and philosophy has been looking askant at her way-
ward daughter. ... In the near past the copula and has been
stretched almost to the breaking point. . . . But now the rancor
of the strife is past, and we are left with a purely academical
question as to the proper affiliation of psychology — a question
of the classification of the sciences. It may be a mere question
of age.
" Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together."
Or there may be a more vital and organic cause. The very
spirit and method of psychology may be much more akin to
those of the natural sciences than to those of philosophy. Thus
either party may raise the merely logical question as to the pro-
priety of the conjunctive and. Are the two, philosophy and
psychology, well paired? Is the vinculum of filiation valid, or
has it become so unnatural that it should be broken? Does the
conjunction and look well parading with a saint Cecilia on
one arm and a madame Blavatsky on the other? Will a lion
and a lamb consent to such a side-by-side conjunction? Will
not the conjunction and be changed into the preposition -within
— the lamb within the lion? Then comes a question, which is
the lion?
THE PKOPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 87
President Stanley Hall answers that psychology is the lion.
In his St. Louis address he says: "Our science is still like
Milton's tawny lion." Till recently it has been philosophy that
made the lion — claim of inclusiveness. For her part, I may
say, she is now willing to give up the claim. Bishop Wilmer
told a story of a colored groom coming back shortly after his
wedding and asking to be ««married. " Why," said the Bishop,
" did you not take Dinah for better or for worse?" "Yah,
yah," said Sambo, " but then she is a heap wusser than I took
her for."
If not worse, psychology is certainly so very greatly changed
as to make philosophy rather willing to have her go her own
way. Meanwhile psychology has been putting forth her claims
of inclusiveness. . . . Here I need only to refer to the viva-
cious remarks of Professor Miinsterberg on the expansionist
policy of the new psychology. " Certainly," he says, "the
good appetite of psychology has sometimes become voracity in
our days, and she has begun to devour all the mental sciences —
history and social life, ethics and logic and finally alas ! meta-
physics." But this, he claims, is pathological and terms the
disease psychologism. . . . There seems to be a glamor about
the term psychology that to-day is ousting the term philosophy
and evolution from their place. The press is pouring forth
books and pamphlets and articles on the psychology of this, that
and the other thing — the psychology of ants, antics and antiques ;
of cant, canticles and chanticleers and so on, from A to izzard.
I would like to read you the titles of a hundred articles that I
have picked out of the psychological journals. I will mention
a few of them : The psychology of profanity, pain, pity ; of
laughing, landscapes and lies, and finally the psychology of
literature, of science, of art, climaxing in the title of an article on
the psychology of philosophy ', or in a more recent one, on the
psychology of psychology. Well ! really, we older folk must
gasp at this claim of psychology to be the scientia scientiarum.
Frankly, we may admit that the new psychology has made good
her claim to be a new science, and recognize to the full the
enormous amount of good new work done by it. We may take
it at its own pretensions and yet we may debate the question as
88 /. MACBRIDE STERRETT.
to its place in the classification of the sciences, more specifically
whether she ought to be divorced from philosophy. ... It is
a question of quid juris rather than of quidfacti. Should psy-
chology any longer affiliate with philosophy and the philo-
sophical sciences, or should she be bidden a god-speed to
conjunction with the long-wooed natural sciences — similia
similibus f
At the joint meeting of the American Philosophical and the
American Psychological Associations in 1905, held in the new
Emerson Hall at Harvard University, this question of the proper
affiliation of psychology was mooted. With delightful savoir
faire, rather than with logical self-consistency, Professor Miin-
sterberg, one of the strongest champions of psychology as a
natural science, held that the housing of psychology in the new
Emerson Hall of Philosophy settled the question, i. e., for
Harvard University. Psychology had accepted the invitation
and entered the hall as a co-habiter with philosophy. But that
local and accidental arrangement did not touch the question of
the quid juris of the affiliation. President Stanley Hall more
logically held that psychology, as understood by both Professor
Miinsterberg and himself, should be recognized as one of the
natural sciences and so be divorced from philosophy.
He said : " Psychology is a branch of natural science and can
be fruitfully studied only in connection with the phenomena of
the material world. Its business is to examine the physical and
2>hysiologic'al conditions of mental states, and this it can do only
by employing the methods of the natural sciences. As an
empirical science it has nothing to do with metaphysics."
Otherwise the tone of the discussion there was genial rather
than logical. It was a house-warming party in the new hall of
philosophy. The local quidfacti was not to be seriously ques-
tioned, and so the prevailing sentiment was for the validity of
the hereditary affiliation of psychology with philosophy.
But here is a later and a more significant incident. It was
supposed to be a settled custom for these two large associations
— the American Philosophical and the American Psychological
Associations — to hold their annual meetings at the same time
and place, and to arrange for joint meetings. Last year, how-
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 89
ever, the American Psychological Association chose to hold its
annual meeting in affiliation with the American Society of
Naturalists in Chicago, rather than with the American Philo-
sophical Association at Cornell. The long and rather vain
coquetting of psychology with natural science here culminated
in a throwing of herself as suitor into the arms of a very luke-
warm beloved.
Our present meeting occurs in the very pandemonium of
the sciences. Here our own society for philosophy and psy-
chology has been partially absorbed into the American Psycho-
logical Association. Here too the great American Association
for the Advancement of Science appears as a vast scientific
trust — the Lion's den to which all other societies are making
tracks. In fact we find that its section His given to anthro-
pology and psychology. As far as psychology is a science,
that I believe is its proper home. Philosophy could not get in
even if it -wished to do so. For, philosophy, whatever she may
be, is not, and from her very nature, never can be, one of the
sciences — in the modern narrow sense of the very catholic
term science. . . .
A full discussion of this topic would involve the consideration
of the nature, aim and methods and, of both philosophy and
science and of the differentia which determine whether one
branch of study is one of the philosophical disciplines, or one
of the natural sciences.
Some of these questions are too well agreed upon to demand
discussion before this audience. We all know the nature and
the claims, or at least, the pretentions of philosophy, in its
intensive sense of epistemology and ontology as held by catholic
philosophy.
So too there is a general agreement as to the marks which
assign any science to a place with the philosophical disciplines.
The chief mark, I should say, is whether or not a science is
normative.
We can also limit the discussion by our unanimous consent
to affiliate rational psychology as represented chiefly in this
country by Dr. Wm. T. Harris with philosophy. It is philo-
sophical or nothing. The same is true in regard to the modern
90 /. MAC BRIDE STERRETT.
experimental form of the older introspective psychology as set
forth by Ladd, Stout, Ward, Hoffding, Baldwin, Calkins and
others.
Without discussion we may accept philosophy at its well
recognized position, not as one of the sciences ; not as merely
the unification of all the sciences, but as the science of the
principles of all knowing and of the absolute reality back of all
that with which the natural sciences deal. In her own eyes she
walks a queen and we do not question her right, "We do it
wrong, being so majestical." But as to psychology in its many
new empirical forms we can say :
" Thou comest in so questionable shape
That I will speak to thee."
Here I confess myself to be a mere inquirer, and I shall not
be surprised to learn that every one of my opinions on the sub-
ject is false. I am perfectly sure, that from the standpoint of the
new psychology, I am a back number, an old fossil of the de-
funct arm-chair psychology — one of those whom Dr. Stanley
Hall has characterized as paranoiac minds' « surcharged with
paleo-atavistic traces,' « sitting in prison ' ' under the greatest de-
lusion of the ideality of space.' I shall assume the standpoint
of the philosopher, who is not technically acquainted with the
new psychology, and base my remarks upon quotations from
those who are specialists in the new science. ... I certainly
am not competent to give any but a very second-hand account
of the present state of psychological literature. In the flux and
flow of its development I cannot tell just what is an uberwun-
dener Stand-punkt, or what is just now the dominant view. Let
me confess to a state of mental bewilderment, of what they call a
* functional or organismic feeling of non-orientation ' ; an atti-
tude of ' unrelationalized psychic quality-content ' when facing
the literature and the laboratory work of the new psychology.
... It is all so unlike the old psychology !
Its literature bristles with the technical terms of physics,
physiology and biology. I forbear giving you a list of its
working terms that seem so unfamiliar to one of the old school.
It speaks largely in an unfamiliar tongue and works at largely
unfamiliar problems.
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 91
Ribot says: "The new psychology differs from the old in
its spirit — it is not metaphysical; in its end — it studies only
phenomena ; in its procedure (or method) it borrows, as much as
possible, from the physical sciences." Professor Angell says :
"The tendencies which have contributed to render psychology
so largely independent of philosophy are for the most part iden-
tical with those which have brought it under the guiding influ-
ence of biology." . . .
We note too the large space occupied in its literature by a
sort of an internecine warfare, a mutually destructive criticism
of its different forms, so that one might be tempted to follow
Hume's method of dealing with the various forms of religion,
setting them, like so many Kilkenny cats, at an internecine
struggle till nothing is left of them but tails. . . . One quota-
tion from Professor Titchener must suffice : "I have," he says,
"little sympathy or patience with these experimentalists who
would build up an experimental psychology out of psycho-
physics and logic ; who throw stimuli into the organism and
take reactions out, and then, from change in the nature of the
reactions, infer the fact of a change in consciousness. Why in
the world should one argue and infer, when consciousness itself
is there, always there, waiting to be interrogated. This is but
a penny-in-the-slot sort of science. Compared with introspective
psychology, it is quick, it is easy, it is often showy." . . .
Munsterberg says, what no -philosopher would dare to say :
" It seems to me that the new discoveries in modern psychology
have often an existence of only four months." We might say
then that it seems to be as near to being a science as pragmatism
is to being a philosophy. It may weary you — if a quotation
from Professor James could ever weary any one — to have re-
peated the closing words of his Psychology: "It is indeed
strange to hear people talk triumphantly of the new psychology
and write histories of psychology, when into the real elements
and forces which the word covers, not the first glimpse of clear
insight exists. A string of raw facts : a little gossip and
wrangle about opinions ; a little classification and generaliza-
tion, but not a single law in the sense in which physics shows
us laws. This is no science ; only the hope of a science. At
92 /. MAC BRIDE STERRETT.
present psychology is in the condition of physics before Galileo
and the laws of motion, of chemistry, before Lavoisier and the
notion that mass is preserved in all reactions." . . .
Dr. Stanley Hall, who seems to be a sort of a Thersites in
the camp, in both his Harvard and St. Louis addresses is gar-
rulously querulous, almost senescently adolescent in his decla-
mation against metaphysics in the new psychology. " The
present glowing twilight of the new psychology," he says, " is
that of the dawn, not of the evening " But even in its present
early form of adolescence it is ever lapsing into senescent remi-
niscence of the metaphysical problems of the old psychology.
. . . And so we find this constant accusation made against
every form of psychology. All accuse each other of being
metaphysicians. IS enncmi £ est la metaphysique.
... I omit, as I have said, rational psychology and all
forms of what I choose to call -psyche-psychology. All forms
where at least one's empirical self or soul or active consciousness
is the basal fact for study ; all forms where the concept of per-
sonality stands as the ideal and the problem and the inspiration
of the work — whatever method may be used such forms of
psyche-psychology rightly, by common consent, should be affil-
iated with the philosophical disciplines.
Affiliating all forms of^5y^^-psychology with philosophy, we
may turn to forms which, with Lange, " calmly assume a psy-
chology without a soul" ; that at least reduce psyche to a non-
active epiphenomenon of physical phenomena ; where the in-
terest is chiefly with the non-psychical as the material from
which a non-psychical, psychical automaton may be con-
structed— that is, to all forms that may be included under the
term scientific psychology, in the rigorous and narrow sense of
the term scientific.
But here let it be said that there are some forms of structural
psychology which belong to psyche-psychology and there are
others which belong to this latter group.
The same may be said as to some forms of functional psy-
chology. That is, the ideal and problem may be such as to
classify some forms of functional psychology with psyche-psy-
chology, while there are others where it is little more than a
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 93
branch of biology, and the others where it is a form of psycho-
physics with the accent upon physics. Thus with Angell, the
problem of the functionalist is one of determining just how
mind participates in accomodatory reactions, thus putting the
accent upon psyche.
The term the new psychology is too broad being inclusive,
as it is, of modern forms of the psyche-psychology. If we
can submit to the rigorous but defective modern definition of
science, we may classify them as (i) the old or unscien-
tific psyche-psychology, (2) the new or scientific hypo-psyche-
psychology. But both of these may be experimental. For
the experimental method, which is claimed as the distinc-
tive mark of scientific psychology, is also used by the other
school. The only question is, whether these experimental
methods are analogous to, or identical with those of physics and
physiology and whether or not they are applied to the same
subject-matter.
We find both structural and functional psychologists to be
chary and wary of -psyche. They fear its recrudescence, just
as biologists fear any recrudescence of vitalism. They fear
the introduction of any teleological explanation, or any recur-
rence of any form of the old faculty-psychology, where facul-
ties, as organic manifestations of a substantial mind were made
explanatory of mental processes and results. They hold that,
historically and scientifically psyche has been a vanishing factor.
Dr. Stanley Hall regrets the lingering hold that the questions
raised by the old psychology has even yet upon scientific psy-
chologists.
His attitude toward all questions raised by the other older
psychology is quite like that of Callicles in Plato's Gorgias (485)
one of pity and contempt, except as a training stage for the
young. Thus, he says : " For many, if not for most, a touch
of it, but not too much of it, is perhaps, a part of the complex
initiation of youth into its world ; but the severer types of this
discipline seems more suited to senescent than to adolescent
men and races." To be scientific then, all forms of psychology
must banish an active self-manifesting and self-realizing psyche.
Hamlet must be left out of the play.
94 «/• MA CB RIDE STERRETT.
As to structural analytic or idea- psychology. This form
of psychology is strictly analytical of psychoses, states of con-
sciousness, ideas, as mere phenomena, abstracted from any
active -psyche. It is after the elements in any psychosis and their
quantity, so as to construct a psychic-automaton. It is held to
be scientifically irrelevant to ask whose psychosis one is analyz-
ing. Ideas are atoms, instead of being experienced functionings
of a self. Explanation is sought in non-psychic terms by refer-
ence to physiological distinctions. It treats its analyzed elements
as real parts, whose mechanical composition is the mental life.
Whether there is any personal mind back of the stream of ideas,
says Titchener, is a question that cannot be raised in psychology.
Functional psychology is a bit less abstract. It has at least
processes instead of cross-sections of consciousness, or rather of
the psycho-physical organism in its reaction to external environ-
ment. At first it looks like a bit of teleological self-activity being
introduced into the psychological automaton. But this is a
mistake. The reactions, the controls are not within the organ-
ism, but from the environment. Description, it is true, is in
terms of value. Function is identified with use.
But when we ask, useful for whom^ we find only the imper-
sonal psycho-physical organism. That is its basal fact, not a
self-active or conscious self. Hence its concern is with the
sensori-motor processes of this organism, body-reactions and atti-
tudes, whose processes and functions are biological rather than
psychological phenomena. Activity in relation to environment
becomes mechanical physics. Reactions are considered as
essentially motor processes. They are mechanical functions,
not activities of a functioner. In this psycho-physical organism
purely physiological functions are recognized but not any purely
psychical functions. There is a body, an organism but there is
no psyche to function. Hence functional psychology is logic-
ally a branch of biology. Professor Kirkpatrick suggests that
functional psychology be broadened to include the fuctioning of
all organisms, whether conscious or unconscious, and suggests
the term organosts.
Genetic psychology seems to take a further step toward a
concrete form of psychology. Lloyd Morgan says that it takes
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 95
its place between biology and such normative sciences as ethics
and aesthetics, with their doctrine of worth for the ideal life of
man. " The starting point is in close touch with purely bio-
logical reactions and the goal is our systems of knowledge and
our ethical conceptions." It is functional, ideological, evolu-
tionary and synthetic. It puts the control system, a sort of effec-
tive consciousness, within the purely organic activities in their
reaction to environment. That is, it uses the conception of
' purely psychologically-guided or intelligent behaviour, as
distinguished from reactions which are purely automatic.'
Thus we may have a genetic psychology in place of the genetic
biology of functional psychology, and thus a form of psychology
which should be affiliated with philosophy, whether in the form
of individual, social or race psychology. As critical of struc-
tural psychology, of its barren, abstract, cross-section-piece-of-
consciousness mythology, and as carrying forward the more
concrete view of functional psychology, we may believe with
Professor Baldwin that genetic psychology is fast coming to its
rights, and that it has a great future before it. I say we may
have such a form of genetic psychology. But I am compelled
to say ive do have forms of it that are to be classed with the
purely evolutionary physical sciences. For disguise, despise,
abjure metaphysics, as we may, we do not and cannot find any
form of psychology which does not presuppose and rest upon
both an epistemology and a metaphysic.
Professor Baldwin says that the two principles which distin-
guish the new psychology are its adherence to the principles of
naturalism and positivism, both as to spirit and method.
But Baldwin pronouncedly divorces both these terms —
naturalism and positivism — from the metaphysics that often go
with them. He says, that the platform on which he describes
the development of modern psychology is " that of cognitive
and reflective self-consciousness of such a sort as that which the
individual has attained when he thinks of his inner life as a
more or less consistent unity, passing through a continuous and
developing experience : a self different from things and also
different from other selves : yet finding its experience and exer-
cising its functions in closest touch with both." Again, Bald-
96 /. MACBRIDE STERPETT.
win says : " What is it that feels and knows? It can only be
a unitary subjectivity, additional to the unity of sensory content,
i. e., the synthetic activity which reduces the many to the one
in each and all the stages of mental growth." It is, indeed,
only on the theory of a self-active subject that any truly genetic
psychology can be had.
With such a conception of a self, a synthesizer, a functioner,
a self-realizing activity, we may use all the methods of natu-
ralism and positivism ; all the methods of modern experimental
psychology — structural, functional, genetic; all laboratory, all
psycho-physical and psycho-metrical methods. What I have
termed ^s_yc^<?-psychology welcomes and uses all the results of
all the methods of both naturalism and positivism, and only
objects where methodology is bottomed on an ontology, natu-
ralistic and positivistic. Through all these results there is an
enrichment of our conception of the psyche that is fundamental
in any logical form of psychology. As long as psychic phe-
nomena are not analyzed into non-psychical factors, so long
every analysis of the constant activities of the complex psycho-
physical organism with the emphasis upon the physical, will be
useful material for the psyche-psychologist. All grain that
comes to his mill are his grists.
But where we have ' structure' or ' idea' without a 'whose,'
or function without a functioner ; or genesis without a generator ;
or a measure without a measurer — in a word, to be both
epistemological and ontological, where we have mere phe-
nomena or epiphenomena in a numerical and quantitative order
and causal relation — there we have a form of psychology that
should be affiliated with the natural sciences. I have a pro-
found admiration and respect for the large amount of fine
original work done by all the workers in scientific psychology.
But I confess that a very large part of their work as well as
their method seems to me to be unpsychological. They are
studying something, but it is not consciousness or psyche, and
psychology is the science descriptive of consciousness. That
should be the root of the matter, whereas, with them, it is at
most a convenient general abstract term to hold together a lot
of abstractions, from the activity of the concrete psyche. I
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 97
have no obnoxious religious or philosophical criticism to make
on the scientific study of this subject-less, ego-less, psyche-less,
phenomenal matter of the new psychology. But the question
that I raise is as to the logical affiliation of this scientific work
with the philosophical disciplines. Leaving all forms of psyche-
psychology whether new or old, whether empirical, inductive
experimental, descriptive, analytic or not — leaving all these
forms affiliated with philosophy, we ask where is scientific
psychology to be placed? Under this come some forms of
structural and functional and genetic psychology. But more
distinctively scientific are psychological psychology and psycho-
physics.
We find many of the exponents of all these forms of psy-
chology strenuously denying affiliation not only with philosophy,
but also with the philosophical disciplines. In spirit, aim,
method and, largely, in subject-matter they are not merely
analogous to, but identical with those of the natural sciences.
We hold that these forms of psychology should be affiliated
with the natural sciences for the following reasons : It is the
wish of their exponents. This wish comes from sympathy and
congeniality with the spirit, aims and methods of the natural
sciences. . . . These methods are applicable not to qualitative,
intensive states, of the internal sense, but only to sensuous
spatial phenomena. Kant made a mistake in his first edition
which he corrected in his second edition which the neo-Kantians
and all positivists have resolutely enforced. That is, the appli-
cation of the categories of physical science to phenomena of
' the internal sense ' is denied in the second edition and confined
to only external, spatial phenomena. Hence Kant holds, as
logically do his neo-disciples, that psychology can never become
*' a natural science of the soul or even an experimental doctrine
in regard to it."
It is notable too that in his first edition he treats empirical
psychology as a stranger within the philosophical fold, though
then holding that the categories were applicable to phenomena
of the inner sense. That is, granting that there could be a
science of the data of the inner sense, it would be merely em-
pirical and have no philosophical interest. In the second edi-
98 /. MACBRIDE STERRETT.
tion he denied the possibility of an empirical science of the data
of the inner sense and hence of any science of the psyche. The
categories or the analogies of experience, as the principles of
science, are not applicable to the phenomena of the inner sense,
but only to those of the outer sense, i. e., spatial phenomena.
We have, Kant then declares, " from things without us, the
whole material of our knowledge even of our inner sense "
(Pref., XL.). And in his incomprehensible Refutation of Ideal-
ism he says that "our inner experience is itself only possible
mediately and through external experience."
In a word, he pointed to physiology and anthropology as the
only forms in which we can have a scientific psychology — the
way that Lange and the neo-Kantians and positivists resolutely
enforce. It is this regnant phenomenalism in psychology that
accounts for the consistent refusal to take as a factor, a psyche,
self, or,consciousness, because that is not a sensuous phenomenon.
The term psyche has been so greatly implicated with religious
ideas that there has come a preference for the term consciousness
or conscious subject. But this should not obscure its ancient
and perduring usage as a philosophical term. We need not
quarrel about the term. It is the fact of a permanent, substantial,
self-realizing ego that is denied in scientific psychology. It
abides by Hume's contention — " Show me the impresson from
which this idea of self arises." . . . Identity and continuity
are here, like the causal nexus, but a fiction of the mind,
which itself is a fiction. Certainly positivism and atomism
dominate the work in structural psychology. Miinsterberg
says : " From the standpoint of psychology consciousness is only
an abstraction from the totality of conscious facts. Conscious-
ness does not do anything, it is only the empty place for the
manifoldness of psychic facts." Thus denuded of all concrete-
ness and activity, psyche is but the verbal ghost of the Gheist
regnant in the older psychology. It is a general term, a mere
flatus vocis, enjoying perpetual otium cum dignitate in the
work of the phenomalistic positivists. But the fact is that con-
scious states are abstractions. Consciousness itself in an ab-
straction. The concrete given reality is self -consciousness, -with
states, etc. States of consciousness are really states of a con-
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 99
scious being, self* psyche. . . . Professor Bush speaks of con-
sciousness as ' a diaphanous medium through which, on occa-
sions, objects are united,' or as ' the faint rumor left behind by
the disappearing soul upon the air of philosophy.'
Professor James discussing Does Consciousness Exist?* says
(J. P., 147): "For twenty years I have mistrusted conscious-
ness as an entity ; for seven or eight years past I have sug-
gested its non-existence to my students. It seems to me that
the hour is ripe for it to be openly and universally discarded."
As to the * Ich denke* that * muss alle meine Vorstellungen
begleiten Konnen,' the merely logical permanent selfoi Kant.
Professor James, who always dares to say very daring things
in a very brilliant way, finds it to be but a careless name for the
stream of breathing. He says:2 "The 'I think' which Kant
said must be able to accompany all my objects is the ' I breathe '
which actually does accompany them. There are other internal
facts besides my breathing (intercephalgic muscular adjust-
ments, etc.) and these increase the assets of consciousness but
breath, which was ever the original of * spirit,' breath, moving
outwards, between the glottis and the nortrils, is, I am per-
suaded, the essence out of which philosophers have constructed
the entity known to them as consciousness. That entity is
fictitious while thoughts in the concrete are fully real. But
thoughts in the concrete are made of the same stuff as things
are." . . .
The older psychology is both descriptive and normative.
As normative, it affiliates with philosophy as do the other
normative sciences. But scientific psychology is not a norma-
tive science. The very terms norm, ideal, teleology are deep-
dyed red rags of metaphysical popery. Mechanism, mechan-
ical causality is the regnant concept of scientific psychology.
It does not seek to describe concrete, active consciousness, but
to find the causal tie between the parallel physiological processes
and the abstract mental atoms so as to construct a psychical
automaton. It denies any causal tie between these psychical
atoms and also between them and their physiological and
ljour. Phil., Psy. and Scientific Methods, I., p. 477-
*Jour. Phil., Psy. and Scientific Methods, I., p. 491.
100 /. MACBRIDE STERRETT.
physical conditions. Here I need to do no more than refer to
Professor Miinsterberg's popular exposition of this in his Psy-
chology and Life, where he allows that the psychical automa-
ton thus constructed by scientific ^psychology is far from being a
description of the real living self. From his statement it ap-
pears to be but a caricature rather than a character-sketch of
the real concrete psyche — a merely kinematographic simu-
lacrum of psyche.
As to the protesting real psyche that he hands over to history,
ethics and religion, though he calls it ' will,' he speaks of it
in such negative terms, as ' non-psychic,' ' non-personal ' as to
make it seem a nondescript nonentity — sans culotte — sans tons
les choses. It is unnecessary for me to repeat what he feels
called upon to say ad populum about the limitations of the
psycho-construct of scientific psychology — at the expense of
affording pleasure to its enemies — " It is not at all an expres-
sion of reality, but a complicated transformation of it, ... an
abstract psychical automaton." He adds, "Every fiber in us
revolts and every value in our real life rejects such a con-
struction." . . .
Scientific psychology aims to predict or, to vary the phrase,
to explain. And explanation, to be scientific, must always be
causal, and so, in non-psychic terms and of non-psychic phe-
nomena.
It is a case of mechanism versus the teleology regnant in all
the normative philosophical disciplines. Scientific psychology
explains by giving the invariable set of antecedent physical
facts. The causal nexus is found between the physical facts,
but they do not, and, on their epistemological theory, they can-
not allow any causal nexus between the parallel psychic phe-
nomena— nor indeed between the two parallel set of phe-
nomena. It is impossible to see how they can get any ^psy-
chical automaton constructed. On the other hand we may note
that since the days of Plato and Aristotle, ultimate explanation
looks not backward for explanation, but forward to the func-
tion or final cause as the real explanation. Respice finem.
The only psyche in the work is that of the psychologists, and
it is reduced to a mere spectator of objective phenomena with
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. IOI
hypothetical parallel concomitant psychoses — the inert, cause-
less and uncaused accompaniments of certain transforma-
tions of matter and energy. Any psychologist may well fear
for his reputation for modernity if he upholds a psyche. That
must be religiously disavowed. In psycho-physics the psyche
is only permitted because of its union with physics. Psyche
alone — well, that is snubbed and bowed out, or only taken in
at the back door and told to keep quiet, as quiet it must keep,
as it can make no acoustic utterance. This utterance is, after
all, the real thing and so psychology is a form of physics. It is
a science, but not a science of the soul. It would not care to be
styled a science of no-soul, though even functional psychology
comes near this in its treatment of a body-soul, psycho-physical
organism. Here, as Dewey says, "the distinction between the
physical and the spiritual is one of interpretation of function
rather than of kind" That is, the distinction is merely mental,
functional distinctions within one organism. The body may as
well be said to have a soul as the soul a body. It is all one or-
ganism in time and space conditions. There is no known soul.
We have a soul-idea, which is obnoxiously intrusive in all sci-
entific study. But it corresponds to no reality. We can trace
its psychological genesis out of such stuff as dreams are made
of. It is granted that this concept will survive as long as men
are religious, or as long as they ask the inane questions that
Rational Psychology asks.
It may occur to one to ask by whom or through whom was
the soul-idea conceived, if not by a psychical conceiver and his
confreres. Or is it a construct of impersonal atoms in their
causal nexus through all ages, especially the early ages ? But
ages of whom or for -whom f There are no ages for a what.
Through the ages for psyche, psyche has constructed the psyche-
idea, as implicative, as revelations of her real self. A construct
needs a constructor. Is it not an absolute peTd-ftams In; <LUoc ftvoz
to pass to a. psychical construct from a physical order f At least
if the psyche-idea is a construct of physical antecedents, why is
it not just as valid as the concept of causality, which must have
been generated by the same sort of physical antecedents? One
here very naturally raises the question as to the propriety of keep-
102 /. MAC BRIDE STERRETT.
ing the name -psychology. Karl Lange, who gives the episte-
mological basis of this non-ontological science, himself raised the
question. In arguing against the hypothesis of a soul he says :
" But does not psychology, then, mean the doctrine of the soul?
How then is a science conceivable which leaves it doubtful
whether it has any object at all? Well, here we have a charm-
ing example of the confusion of a name and a thing. We have
a traditional name for a considerable, but by no means accu-
rately defined group of phenomena. This name has come down
from a time when the present requirements of strict science were
unknown. Shall we reject the name because the object of the
science has been changed? That were unpractical pedantry.
Just calmly assume a psychology without a soul and the name
will still be found useful."
My friend, Rev. Dr. Frank Sewall, of Washington, sug-
gests the term hypo-psychics as a better name for the new science.
Later on we find Lange demanding that all psychological
definitions be replaced by physiological ones, thus leaving psy-
chical phenomena to stand only as provisional indices of physio-
logical ones. But all such efforts to reduce psychology to
physiology, in order to have a scientific psychology is to virtu-
ally abolish -psychology in order to make it into a science. They
proceed on the theory that science obtains only where the rela-
tion of cause and effect can be reduced to a relation of identity
or continuity, so that quantitative equations become possible.
This can only be in the material sphere. Only where we have
quantitative states can there be science. Therefore parallel
quantitative states, physiological manifestations, are to be sub-
stituted for the psychical ones to get quantitative determinations
carrying out a strict causal connection, in order to have a scien-
tific psychology. Lange set the example of decrying the inane
method of introspection in favor of external observations of a
physiological sort. Thus contempt of introspection has been a
flaunting note of the new school until we find a noteworthy
exception in Titchener who, deprecates " That neglect of intro-
spective control in psychology, which has been the besetting
sin of many whose direct interest lies in psycho-physics," insist-
ing upon introspective analysis as the method of psychology.
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 103
"The course of experimental psychology he says in recent
years has been away from simple psycho-physical determina-
tions and towards introspective analysis." A philosopher would
not dare to characterize some of the laboratory work in psycho-
physics as Professor Titchener does — as 'a penny-in-the-slot
sort of science.' " Tables and curves of reaction etc.," he says,
" are useful, and the psychological laboratory is the place for
them. But there is no reason why one should gain psycho-
logical credit for them — still less for erecting a speculative
psychology on their foundation. This mode of psychologizing
is inherently as vicious as any of the constructive modes of the
older psychology."
But most of the work in the new science is carried on with-
out introspection, the only door into the specific subject-matter
of psychology. Thus Cattell says: "Most of the work done
by myself and others in my laboratory is nearly as independent
of introspection as work in physics or zoology."
But all this is not psychology and indeed no part of psychol-
ogy, unless it be held as merely supplemental to that which
treats of the processes of the self-activity revealed only by intro-
spection — itself a form of self-activity. If the old psychology
be termed metaphysics, the new may well be termed hypo-
psychics. . . .
We have noted the reason Miinsterberg gives for this abstract
construction and how strenuously he affirms that it by no means
resembles the real self, the actual psyche of himself or any of
his fellows. . . . We confess to being unable to appreciate the
end to be served by such a psychic-construct. In later chapters
he disclaims any use for it as applied to pedagogy, art, history,
ethics or religion.
It is just here — granting a possible limited use for their
psychological automaton — here where it logically calls halt —
that we would plead for a further function of psychology in
describing the teleological processes of real life, in ethics, art,
history and religion. That is, we plead for the place of another
form of psychology — that of the old psychology in modern
form — for psyche-psychology.
This pleads for the subject-matter revealed only by introspec-
104 /• MACBRIDE STERRETT.
tion — the self-activity of a knowing, willing, feeling self, that
no eye nor microscope can ever see, and that no mechanical
causality can order into a mechanical science. Kant's paralo-
gisms were only aimed against such a natural science of the
self, without whose synthetic self-activity there would be neither
subject-matter or form for natural science. The self for whom
these are objects cannot itself be an object like them. The
whole of his Critique, which gives the principles of science, is
itself a refutation of his paralogisms so far as they are directed
against the self-consciousness that is the source of all the cate-
gories. The source of the categories cannot be subjected to
them. The center cannot be put as a point in its own self-
generated circumference, because the source — the generating
center — is more real than its own phenomenal creations.
The old psychology only pleads for the recognition of this
knowing self, that knows itself, not as it knows its objects, but
by an act of pure apperception or self-consciousness — that
knows itself in knowing objects and only knows these in know-
ing itself ; that knows its own knowing in its work of gripping
all its objects into ologies, from geology to theology. Such a
psychology may be ridiculed as being an art rather than a
science. But that only reveals the limitations of science. . . .
One illustration may suffice. We go back to one of the
oldest psychologists of the psyche-psychology, Socrates. Miin-
sterberg himself refers to how scientific psychology would ex-
plain the causes of Socrates turning a deaf ear to the plan of
his friends for him to escape from prison and death. "Socrates
remained in prison because his knee muscles were contracted
in a sitting position and not working to effect his escape, and
these muscle-processes took place because certain psycho-
physical ideas, emotions and volitions, all composed of elemen-
tary sensations, occurred in his brain, and that they, again,
were the effects of all the causes which sense stimulation and
dispositions, associations, produced in that organism." But the
fact is that Socrates remained in prison because his inner
monitor, deamon, conscience, sense of duty, forbade him to be
disloyal to his mother, the state. Socrates is himself criticizing
this very old hypothesis that has been recrudesced in the new
THE PROPER AFFILIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY. 105
scientific psychology. The whole passage in the Phaedo is
worth many repetitions. I give it in part. Socrates was hold-
ing the principle that psyche is self-active and the cause of
action. The natural science teacher tells me, he says, " that I
sit here because my body is made up of bones and muscles,
which are moved by contraction and relaxation, and this is why
I am sitting in a curved posture." But the true cause Socrates
replies is "that / have thought it better to remain here and
undergo my sentence ; for I am inclined to think that the
muscles and bones of mine would have gone off to Megara or
Beotia by the dog of Egypt — they would, if they had been
guided only by their own ideas of what was best, and if I
had not chosen as the better and nobler part, instead of
playing truant, and running away, to undergo any punish-
ment which the state inflicts." With this illustration we
rest our contention for another form — for the form of the old
j^5_y£^<?-psychology, which seeks to understand the self-activity ;
the self-revealing and self-realizing character of psyche in and
through the personality that works out the attainments of the
truly-human in art, history, ethics and religion and philosophy
— in both the objective institutions and in the creations of the
ideals that lead ever upward and onward. With the acknowl-
edgment of this as the primary function of psychology there
need be no undervaluing of the work of scientific psychology
in its very limited function of giving us formula of the relatively
mechanical aspects of our mental life, by means of which to
calculate the future actions of our fellow men. Psyche-psy-
chology only asks that the new science may not pursue its work
with a sort of persuasion that there is no inner self-active being
at its heart. It asks that a non-spatial, non-sensuous psyche
be not regarded as an obnoxious intruder, but as something
more real and more substantial than all its physiological and
physical conditions.
Doing this it may then go on with its own special lines of
study of these conditioning environmental stimuli — these en-
thralling means of self-liberation — conditions of body, age,
sex, race and clime. It would then be a most valuable part of
psychology — the science which describes and explains the evolu-
106 J. MACBRIDE STERRETT.
tion — the self-realizing and ripening of the soul, self, person-
ality, or spirit that forms the central subject-matter of psy-
chology. It would thus supplement and enrich the work of the
old unscientific or hyper-scientific psychology.
I believe that if a vote of the workers in scientific psychology
could be taken, the majority would be in favor of the affiliation
of the new science with the natural sciences. But philosophy
would here hold with Mathew Arnold that " numbers," the
majority, is bad. Philosophy like Plato's God is not envious.
Like the New Jerusalem which is above, she is the mother of
us all, and rejoices at the adolescence of each one of her off-
spring. For psychology she has a special interest and a
mother's yearning to keep it at home, when she realizes that the
time has come for it to go out as an independent science. In
its new form she needs it, indeed, but only as she needs all
other sciences.
Philosophy is burdened with the consciousness of the chaos
of experience which she was born to turn into a cosmos. She
needs the material of all the sciences. She needs specific
questions raised. And there is no science which raises so many
profound questions as psychology raises. Indeed it may be
shown that all philosophical problems emerge by a psycholog-
ical necessity from the study of psychology.
In this way it should continue to be the special propaedeutic
to philosophy. No one ignorant of psychology can enter philos-
ophy— however much Plato may say about mathematics. It
is psychology that especially gives philosophy the Antean touch
with mother Earth that she may rise with earth to heaven.
Psychology, instead of being the cuckoo in the sparrow's nest
may, even in her scientific form, be the ugly duckling that at
maturity leaves the puddle to join her sister philosophical dis-
ciplines in the empyrean blue. Psychology will have to be a
" heap wusser" before philosophy will wish to be unmarried
from her.
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION.1
BY PROFESSOR W. H. SHELDON,
Princeton University.
We do not attempt an exhaustive analysis of simple appre-
hension, but consider the matter on its cognitive side alone.
Our aim is to learn something of the psychology of that mental
function which culminates in judgment. As to the meaning of
' simple apprehension ' there is not quite uniform usage. First
let it be understood that 'simple' is a relative term, and can-
not, at least before investigation, be taken to preclude all inner
complexity. In regard to the meaning of the whole phrase, we
somewhat arbitrarily choose the following interpretation. It
will refer to those rather simple states or processes called * pres-
entations' when they have the single additional cognitive attri-
bute of objective reference ; or, more briefly, simple apprehen-
sion = consciousness of a definite object. It is a state just above
the ' anoetic ' line ; the amount of definiteness of the object may
however vary considerably. Here is an example : as I was
thinking about the subject of this paper, I heard, in the margin
of consciousness, a noise from the adjacent street. That noise
was to me then a fairly definite object of thought. Yet I did
not, when hearing it, think about it ; I did not ask myself, or
know, whence it came, what made it, what it was like. Intro-
spection can discover no ideas connected with it, no reasoning,
no abstraction, nothing in fact but consciousness of a single
object, the heard noise.
The simple apprehension which we are to study is thus a
very bare thing. From a psychical standpoint it excludes all
the 'higher' intellectual processes, such as ideas, abstraction,
judgment proper, reasoning, etc. To state at this juncture
just how it differs from these processes would be to give a
complete psychology of cognition, including some of the
1 Read at Baltimore meeting of the American Philosophical Association,
December, 1908.
107
IOS W. H. SHELDON.
special results of this analysis ; in dealing with our limited
problem we must be content to say, that since all the ' higher'
states involve ideas — no matter what is one's theory of the
nature of ideas — they all contain the dualism of symbol and fact.
Or if they do not contain this dualism psychically, they at least
presuppose that it has already been learned by the thinker. So,
for example, if an object is apprehended as being physical, or
psychical, or conceptual, or as a table, a virtue, as bad, or
humorous, or as anyhow qualified by a previously learned mean-
ing, we have the dualism of fact and idea-applied-to-fact. This
accordingly is not simple apprehension, for it is just this dualism
that simple apprehension lacks. We may simply apprehend
an object as of such and such a quality, only in so far as that
quality is immediately felt as in and of the object, not in so far
as it implies an already present idea, understood to be numer-
ically distinct from the fact, and referred to it. And for this
reason memory and expectation too are ruled out, since they
involve the ideal meanings ' past' and ' future.' Simple appre-
hension, as we use the term, is confined to the noticing of the
presence of some content or object, taken as nearly as possible
for itself alone. If, as we shall perhaps learn, this is not quite
possible, there is so close an approximation to it that the distinc-
tion is for working purposes sound.1
Poor though it may be in connotation, it is rich in denotation.
We may simply apprehend not only sense-qualities, but any
kind of content whatsoever. In the margin of my conscious-
ness I detect the presence of what later reflection would call
logical meanings, verbal images, muscular tensions, emotional
moods, conscious resolves, etc. If introspection happens then
to be my conscious aim, I notice still more subtle shadings and
connections of psychical material. As I wrote just now, I was
aware of a verbal image, ' number.' It was not central in atten-
tion, and I did no more than incidentally notice its presence :
that was enough to make it a simple apprehension. One can,
after too much work on a mathematical problem, have certain
1 In this paragraph, as will be seen, I am indebted to the analysis of Pro-
fessor Baldwin. Cf . especially Thought and Things, Vol. I., Ch. 3, and Vol.
II., Ch. 2, pp. 14-29.
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 1 09
conceptual meanings, e. g., a*, V— I, f~^t hover unceasingly
on the edge of his conscious field. He notices their presence,
but thinks not at all about them, nor does he apprehend them as
being concepts ; their presence simply is noticed. So too with
any sort of material that may flit through the mind. Examples
could be multiplied without end ; the kind of stuff we appre-
hend is quite indifferent.
It is this sort of fact we are to analyze. Yet before proceed-
ing to the analysis we wish to insist a little on two characters
which render our problem more important than is perhaps gen-
erally thought. These are, the integrity and the frequency of
simple apprehensions. They are not mere abstractions or
aspects of a fully developed judgment-process, but are found
in as much independence and self-existence as judgments them-
selves have ; and they are very numerous indeed, constituting
perhaps a majority of our cognitive psychoses. As to the first :
one may admit in a general way that cognition, feeling, cona-
tion, coexist as a rule, yet should remember that the absolute
universality of this rule, in the nature of the case, can hardly be
proved. No doubt, however, interest, desire and movement
play a large part in determining and constituting many of the
objects of simple apprehension. But it is of their cognitive in-
tegrity we treat. Again and again the 'higher' thought-proc-
esses are, in the cases we study, verifiably absent. Consider
those marginal sensations of which we are conscious (not
the overlooked ones) in moments of moderate preoccupation.
Gazing absently about a room, we are often distinctly aware of
colors (of wall-paper, books, rugs, etc.) or perhaps sounds
(from the house or neighborhood) or even cold or warmth, etc.
These definite objects of consciousness are most obviously not
identified at the time, or named, or classified, nor do we refer
ideas to them and thereby make judgments. The mind is
mainly occupied with other things ; we have just enough atten-
tion to give these objects, to make them into simple apprehen-
sions, but no more. It is difficult to see how one could deny
these introspective facts, or what evidence could be produced
for the opposite view. What is in the focus^ indeed, we do
often, perhaps almost always, pass judgment upon, for our in-
HO W. H. SHELDON.
tellectual energy is centered upon it; but what is in the margin,
we are too busy, and too uninterested, to reflect upon. To be
sure, one might suspect that the reason for the absence of
' higher ' processes lay in the habitual character of the experi-
ence, whereby those processes dropped from consciousness.
We find however plenty of cases of novel objects, which are no
more reflected upon or judged than the old ones. Almost every,
perhaps every, marginal content noticed shows this ; for, do
any of them fail to be in some way new ? Certainly few, at
most. Our view then must be that simple apprehension is
cognitively quite an integral state.
Second, as to the frequency : we have seen that the margin
of consciousness forms a natural home of simple apprehensions.
This is enough to show us how great is their number. How
many do we have at any one moment? Of course it is hard, if
not impossible, to draw the sharp line between focus and
margin, or between margin and what is below the threshold
(for later reflection) ; yet at a given moment one could find a
large number of contents which he can be sure he was just
noticing in passing, which were not focal or thought about at
all. Let any one try the experiment for himself. The extent
of the focus, on the whole, seems much more limited, so that
it does not seem too much to say that, inasmuch as there is a
rough correspondence between margin and simple apprehension
on the one hand and focus and ' higher ' states on the other
hand, the former constitute a majority of intellectual states.
And when we remember that simple apprehension is not only
of sense-qualities, but of any kind of content under the sun,
this claim of frequency is strengthened. Moreover, we do not
deny that simple apprehension can be focal. When we wake
from a doze with a start, due to some sudden noise, we are con-
scious of the noise as a certain definite quality, yet are too torpid
to think about it, to judge its source or character. We have
then a focal content, yet our whole mental state is so infantile
at the moment that it does not become a judgment or lead to
reflection. These cases, however, are no doubt exceptional.
Notice that we are here treating of adult mental life. Simple
apprehension, primitive though it is logically, and predominant
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION. "I
as it must be in the babe's life, is still flourishing vigorously in
the mature intellect. There is here a nice analogy with biolog-
ical phenomena. How many hundred acorns are produced,
for one that grows into an oak? How many simple apprehen-
sions arise at any one moment, as compared to the few that,
happening to be in the circle of present interest, blossom into
judgments? As the acorns die without further result, so do the
simple apprehensions. We overlook them because of their in-
significance and marginal residence. There is to-day a strong
tendency to insist that psychic life is always a unity. We must
not let this tendency, correct though it is in the main, blind us
to certain obvious facts. The 'stream of thought' has a central
current, but it carries along numberless disconnected, broken-off
pieces of things, and contains side-currents and eddies. Such
are the disjoined simple apprehensions. They contribute little
perhaps to the useful cargo of the stream, for they are the intel-
lectually useless remnants ; yet their name is legion.
We may now take up the analysis of these facts. What is
their essential make-up, regarded as cognition ? The examina-
tion should be genetic as well as analytic, but this paper takes
only the latter method (as the title indicates) inasmuch as genet-
ically simple apprehension is so low in the order of development
that it is difficult to deal with it. At the same time we must
admit that our results are open to, and need, supplementation
from the genetic side : though it is believed that no supplemen-
tation can falsify them.
In all these cases, two facts are easily made out. There is
some actually present content, and it is discriminated. As to
the content, its nature, as said above, is quite unrestricted. It
has psychologically (and may even have psychically) intensity,
duration, complexity and other attributes of psychoses. The
meaning of the word ' content ' is to be interpreted parsimoniously.
It is " mere stuff or matter presented to consciousness, considered
as stripped of the special meanings and modifications peculiar
to the psychical process then going on."1 For later reflection,
the content is usually distinguished from the object of the appre-
hension ; how far this distinction reaches, and whether it masks
1 Baldwin, Thought and Things, I., p. 40.
11 2 W. H. SHELDON.
an underlying sameness or not, are well-known and delicate
issues into which we cannot here go. This inadequacy, how-
ever, will not affect our inquiry, inasmuch as the object, in so
far as it does differ numerically from the present content, is
somehow beyond the momentary consciousness, i. £., is not psy-
chical ; there is psychically no dualism of object and content in
their stage. And our inquiry is just now concerned with the
psychical make-up alone. Accordingly in what follows I shall
pay no regard to this distinction of object and content.
As to the discrimination, it seems equally essential with the
content. " All processes of thought are eo t'pso processes of dis-
crimination,"1 says Dr. Stout. So too Professor Baldwin:
" the essential thing about a mental object is, that it is in some
way grasped as a distinguishable unit of presentation or mean-
ing."2 As we use the term, discrimination means, that the con-
tent is apprehended in distinction from something else ; 3 this
something being in, or part of, or the whole of, the (psychical)
spatial or temporal or other environment. Thus, a tone is often
heard in discrimination from the just-past silence, or other just-
past tones. An object in space is commonly distinguished in
shading or color from the surrounding objects. A thought,
logical meaning or mere fancy which lurks on the margin of
consciousness may be noticed in passing, in that its content is
so different from the other thoughts of the moment. Indeed,
what we are now claiming is but a tautology. A ' definite '
object is, and means, an object to some degree singled out, dis-
tinguished from other objects. We emphasize this tautology
because it is the nature of the discrimination in particular, that
we wish to examine.
The discrimination consists in our apprehending the object
as distinct from something else. This must of course not be
interpreted (at least as yet) in the sense of predication. We do
not qualify the object by the adjective ' distinct ' or the relation
' other than something else,' for such an employment of adjec-
tive or relation could not take place until a consciousness of sep-
1 Analytic Psychology, Vol. I., p. 48.
*Op. cit., Vol. I., p. 41.
3 Subject to a qualification which will appear later.
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION. UJ
arable contents were present. And not only have we no right
to suppose this : it is demonstrably not so in many cases.
What we apprehend is, one present complex : object-distinct-
from-environment. Many questions might be here considered :
e. g.<t is there apperception here, or association? What part
does interest play in furthering the discrimination? What part
does the objective stimulus? Are we mentally active or pas-
sive here? These I simply neglect : adding only the remark
that while the discrimination shows the selective character of all
attention-processes, leading us to single out certain objects, that
is not a case of abstraction. Abstraction is derived from selec-
tive attention, but does not itself occur in simple apprehension.
Note, first, the nature of the content and the psychical envU
ronment from which it is felt as distinct. These two are psy-
chically to each other much as focus and margin. This way of
describing their connection I believe to be accurate, even though
the whole subject-matter of apprehension be in the margin of
consciousness. For there are very often, at any one moment,
two or even more foci and margins ; and whereas the content
simply apprehended is itself not the main object of attention at
the time, but is in the margin, it too has a margin or fringe
which is peculiarly its own, namely, the psychical environment
which is immediately concerned in the discrimination of it.
This statement may seem, at first sight, an over-subtle fancy,,
quite beyond verification ; yet let us see. As I write this I hear
a sound which I later interpret as that of a blacksmith's ham-
mer. That sound stood out distinctly from the general back-
ground of dull noise, of my pen rustling over paper, of distant
wagons, etc. I merely noticed the sound in its distinctness for
a moment, without thinking about it at all ; it was to me a defi-
nite object, a matter of simple apprehension only. But notice :
it was in the margin of my consciousness then, for the focus was
occupied with the argument of this paper. And introspection
plainly shows me that it was not in any way felt as directly con-
nected with the focal topic (until later I used it to illustrate). It
did contrast with other tone-sensations and thereby stood out in
distinctness before my attention. Those latter thus formed a
background belonging peculiarly to the sound of the hammer :
114 W. H. SHELDON.
yet that background, while undoubtedly in consciousness, was
not in as great a degree the ©bject of attention as was the sound
of the hammer. So I call the background of tone-sensation the
margin of the latter sound ; together they form a secondary pair,
focus and margin, over against the primary focus and margin,
the argument and the rest of what was in consciousness at the
time. Thus the secondary pair (or pairs perhaps) forms part of
the margin of the primary pair ; it is not so central in the field
of attention, yet does itself form a subordinate node or center of
emphasis. Are we here attributing to conscious states more
complexity than they actually possess ? Is there anything be-
yond the reach of introspection in this? The matter seems to
me eminently verifiable.
The object of describing the matter in terms of focus and
margin, is to bring out a rather difficult point : namely, that
while the content apprehended is always discriminated or dis-
tinguished from its own felt margin, sometimes (perhaps often)
a special case arises in which that margin is, psychically, as
good as lacking. That it is entirely absent, would be too hard
to prove : that it is for all practical purposes absent, may I
think be verified. Let us consider some cases. When I am
wakened from sleep by something I know not what, I may be
aware of the stimulus that wakens me as a certain vague quality,
and distinct, too, a definite object; yet with what is it con-
trasted at the moment? From what is it distinguished? Psy-
chically it is impossible to say. We feel that there must be a
margin, against which as a background the waking stimulus
should appear, but on looking back, we cannot find that we
were aware of any margin. A very good reason appears for
this too : the margin was so indistinct and commanded so
little attention as to fall below the threshold, to disappear.
Here then we have the curious situation, that a content A which
we should expect to be discriminated from its environment B
is present alone, and that too with distinctness, while yet that
from which it is distinct is in no sense present. Later reflec-
tion, looking back, finds what it must interpret as a relation (of
difference or otherness) with only one term. The content A is
distinct, yet from no particular other content. But, we may be
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION. US
asked, how can you say that A is distinguished, when there is
felt nothing from which A is distinguished? Why not say we
here apprehend an isolated content, the waking stimulus, with-
out discrimination? Then there would be, for later reflection,
nothing that could be described as a relation with but one term.
We reply, it is not an adequate account of the psychical facts,
to stop -with the one apprehended content A ; there was felt, at
the time, /Ts definiteness as well (not of course as a general or
abstract quality). Perhaps the best way of describing it would
be to say that we should normally tend to view A in connec-
tion with some other then present content, but that the tendency
was unfulfilled owing to the fact that the margin speedily dis-
appeared, or was from the first quite anoetic. We do not how-
ever insist on the presence of this tendency. The important
thing is that there is more than just consciousness of one content,
yet not a consciousness of two.
Another case is this : if we see in darkness a light shine
suddenly, then disappear, while the mind is attending to some
intellectual topic, we are then and there aware of the light as a
definite object, and it is quite distinct and discriminated, yet at
the time we probably had no thought of the darkness from
which it should be discriminated. The whole matter being in the
primary margin, the secondary margin, or darkness from which
the light is discriminated, was not just then strong enough to be
above the threshold. It was merely anoetic, mere sentience.
Yet the light is felt as distinct, standing out, discriminated.
This strange absence of a second content, while yet we may in
reflection speak of a relation attaching to the one content appre-
hended, may seem more probable when stated in physiological
terms. Let simple apprehension, as involving discrimination,
be relegated to a * higher ' center. To this center the physio-
logical counterparts of the two contents (the object apprehended
and its own margin) are brought from two 'lower' centers.
Now the physiological counterpart of this margin will often be
weak, so weak as completely to vanish before getting to the
' higher' center, /'. £., to vanish in the sense of, to be too weak
a stimulus to make itself felt. Yet it would be physiologically
present and, combined with the other content (or its counterpart),
l 6 W. H. SHELDON.
serve as a disposition toward a discrimination or con-
sciousness of distinction, while yet, being physiologically so
weak, it would not be able actually to bring about a conscious-
ness of a second discriminated content.
We have spoken of a relation with but one term, as the
interpretation which later reflection could make. Speaking
psychically, however, we cannot call the apprehension of a
content in distinction from another, a consciousness of relation.
In regard to the discreteness or otherness of the parts which
make up the cognitive whole, Professor Baldwin says: "The
psychic awareness of this is so far the beginning or rudiment
of a meaning which we may call r elatedness " l and " To con-
sciousness the meaning is not yet relation, it is mere togetherness
or joint participation in a cognitive whole or object"'* It is
thus only the germ of relation of which we treat. The inter-
esting thing is that even in such relation-germs we have that
same lop-sidedness which appears in some relations as such.
That it does appear in the fully developed consciousness of re-
lations, has been shown by James, Woodworth and others.
From the ideal point of view of logic these relations or relation-
germs with but one term (or in other cases than our present
ones, even no terms) seem to be impossible. And as the ideals
of logic have so long dominated our observation in the psy-
chology of knowledge it may seem strange that such irrational
entities can be the object of even the simplest cognition. Pro-
fessor Woodworth says in this connection : " The logical axiom
that a relation is nothing without its terms should not be psy-
chologically misinterpreted to mean that a feeling of relation is
nothing without the feelings of its terms. The feeling of a re-
lation may exist without the feeling of any pair of terms."3
These words are, I believe, very important for those who
investigate the psychology of cognition.
There remains the problem of defining relation psychically ;
a very difficult one, that has hardly received its just due, and
must here be ignominiously shelved. How does consciousness
1 Op. tit., L, 178.
*Ibid.
3 ' The Consciousness of Relations,' in Essays Philosophical and Psycholog-
ical in Honor of W.James, p. 493.
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION. "7
of relation differ from that of complexity? If the latter may be
a term, why not the former? Are all psychical relations without
terms ' transitive ' states or ' substantive ' states, or both? These
are questions whose answers are requisite to a complete exposi-
tion of our view, but they must be neglected. We must content
ourselves with saying that we call the additional factor which
gives to the content its distinctness, a relation-germ, because it
seems to be of the same sort as the factor which later reflection
finds accompanying the apprehension of two contents and which
it calls a relation. That must now be our only defense for
speaking of relations, or relation-germs, with but one term.
So far we find the structure of the psychical subject-matter
of simple apprehension to be, at a minimum, a content and a
relation-germ : let us denote this by Cr. Of course there may
be another content (the environment or margin), or several con-
tents distinguished in one awareness. Then we should have
the symbol CrC'C" •••. But the minimum essential is Cr.
Besides this structure of the subject-matter, we find a trace
or disposition left in the mind, which would normally lead to
belief in opposition to suggested doubt or denial. This is at the
time no more than a mere feeling of presence, or * reality-feel-
ing.' It is, I think, doubtful how far this is a psychical matter :
usually we are certainly not conscious of the presence of A in
any way that is different from being conscious of A itself. Psy-
chologically however the trace of ^4's presence exists ; the proof
of which is that introspection leads us, in such a case, to say * I
really did see that, hear that,' etc. Of course it is true that
many objects are apprehended without belief ensuing ; and that
there is a wide distinction between being conscious of an object
and believing in it. Dr. Stout has shown this clearly,1 and we
follow his position in the main ; the case of * make-believe ' and
of imagination's play or esthetic contemplation, if consciously
such, are by that very fact precluded from belief. Otherwise
they are indeed believed, in the absence of inhibition from sen-
sation, etc. To test this one has only to become wholly ab-
sorbed in some imaginary situation ; he will find himself be-
having in every way as if it were real. But the tendency to
1 Analytic Psychology, j., pp. 101-107.
Il8 W. H. SHELDON.
believe (meaning, to insist upon the presence of, against doubt
or denial) is simply a part of the fact of memory. For its full
development, many genetic stages are needed, of course : but
the trace left by the content apprehended sets the development
going. The very pertinent question of the nature of belief we
must leave entirely aside.
Besides the disposition to believe is a property, not psychical,
but true only for later reflection. A simple apprehension may,
to a certain extent, be true or false. The views of Hobhouse 1
and Cornelius,2 among others, decidedly conflict with this as-
sertion. Cornelius in particular claims that error is possible
only where we refer to something beyond the present content,
as in a memory-image. He (and Hobhouse) seem to me to
overlook the fact that simple apprehension may, even at its
minimum, be so tied up with a margin just beyond, or even in
the edge of, present consciousness, that the least bit of error is
possible. In fact, Cornelius himself has urged3 that apprehen-
sion involves at least a discrimination of the present content from
the just past. Our account has also emphasized the relation-
germ of distinction, though not insisting on distinction from the
just past as the one essential. But on either view, there is room
for some error in the apprehension.
Two cases arise : when the whole content apprehended is
immediately present in the conscious field, and when the mar-
ginal part, from which the object is discriminated, is as good as
absent. In the first case, there is indeed practically no error,
yet there is theoretically just the least possibility of it. Thus :
if a tone is apprehended in distinction from a felt margin of
other sounds, or an object in distinction from its spatial sur-
roundings, there is, as we near the outer edge of the felt-margin,
room for some uncertainty as to just what we really do hear or
see. This is usually very slight, but might be appreciable. It
would not be, of course, an error of interpretation : it is that we
cannot always be sure whether we had this or that sensation or
not. One might think he felt a quality that psychically he
1 Theory of Knowledge, pp. 32-37.
* Existentialurteile, p. 29.
3 Op. cit., pp. 17 and 22-23.
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION.
did not feel, in the margin. And when the object apprehended
is dependent, for its nature as apprehended, partly on the mar-
gin from which it is distinguished, then the object itself may
to some slight extent be wrongly apprehended. If the margin
feels to me like silence, then the tone whose heard nature de-
pends on contrast with that silence, will be heard louder, than
if the margin does not seem silent (other things being equal).
And if I am mistaken in thinking I hear no sound (as on the
very margin it would be difficult to tell) then I mistakenly appre-
hend the tone itself. So too of vision : if the margin of a seen
object looks darker than it really is felt to be (to careful intro-
spection) then that object itself will be apprehended, by contrast
as brighter than it is really felt to be.
If this is true of the case where both object and margin are
present, it is more evidently true in cases where the margin is
absent. If the darkness in which a bright light shines out is not
thought of at all when we notice the light, its value for appre-
hension is of course not estimated at all, and may very well be
such as would change the feeling of discrimination which accom-
panies the light as seen. If we do not know the other term of
a relation, there is even more obviously an occasion for error
than if we know it rather uncertainly. It might seem here that
there could be no error, as there is only the object and its dis-
tinctness, both of which are in the focus (primary or secondary)
so that we cannot find any region of uncertainty out on the edge
of consciousness. Its distinctness, however, may be such as-
would normally imply or suggest a certain kind of a content,,
and that alone, as the margin — while if we had paid attention
we should have found a quite different margin. The darkness
we did not notice might be brighter than the distinctness of the
object would normally carry with it; and if we looked again,
the felt darkness would a little alter the distinctness with which
the object was apprehended. The liability of these latter, as also
of the former, cases to error lies, it will be noticed, in the fact
that they are, or are directly connected with, what is just the
least bit beyond the center of clear consciousness, or even
farther beyond. Thus, as we hinted at the outset, it is not
quite possible for simple apprehension to be confined to the im-
120 W, H, SHELDON
mediate present. This property endows it with a very important
logical consequence, as we shall now see.
That consequence is, that we may fairly call simple appre-
hension a logically primitive kind of judgment. This is due to
its liability to error ; for the two most generally accepted criteria
of judgments, perhaps, are belief 'and liability to error. And
these two are predicable of simple apprehension.
To many this result may seem an unimportant commonplace,
and to others an unwarrantable confusion. We are of course
aware of several differences between judgment proper and
simple apprehension, and yet it does not in the least obliterate
those differences that we insist on an underlying identity. As
simple apprehension seems to be the lowest grade of knowledge
logically, may we not go so far as to say that we have shown a
criterion of all cognition? Whether or not this is a sufficient
one, it does appear to reveal a bond of union that has not to my
knowledge been pointed out in recent psychology, between the
lowest and highest stages of knowledge, and furnishes another
argument to those who insist on continuity of mental function.
We may now draw some conclusions as to the general theory
of judgment (using the term to include simple apprehensions).
In this field are found two extreme positions ; the theory of
Brentano, and the 'predication-theory.'1 Brentano held that a
single content may be believed, or accepted. We find that the
minimum which is believed is a content in a certain relation (or
* relation-germ ' as we called it). The simplest kinds of judg-
ment then are ' two-membered.' This is also the view of Cor-
nelius.2 But on the other hand, the predication-theory would
go too far. It lays claim to two contents in relation, whereas
we -have found that but one content is necessary ; the other
member of the cognition being a relation (or relation-germ).
And further, in the structure Cr above found, there is nothing
of the subject-predicate relation, not even an analogy to it.
The r is certainly not felt as a predicate of the C\ we should
go so far as to say that even for later reflection the subject-
predicate description was not a just account of the matter.
1 Cf. Professor Baldwin's treatment of these two theories, in relation to
fully developed judgment, Thought and Things, Vol. II., pp. 14-36.
2 Op. tit., p. 31.
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 121
The statement of Wundt ' applies most fittingly here : " of the
total mass, certain ones appear as the bearers of the whole idea,
while others have lost their self-existence." This dependence
which Wundt mentions is about as near to predication as we
can get, and it is certainly far enough from it. Of course we
recognize that the two extreme theories we here treat, were not
meant as theories of simple apprehension. We bring them in,
as they show so clearly what simple apprehension is not.
The analysis is not yet finished, however. We have to ask if
the connection between belief and the subject-matter Cr is quite
accidental. Could we on later reflection accord our belief to a
single content C just as well as to one in a relation, Cr ? In
other words, is there any such connection between the structure
Cr and the belief that goes with it, as to show that each is really
essential to the other, and both together form a unitary process ?
Is there any special fitness or adaptation between the structure
Cr and belief?
Let us note first, that disbelief or doubt of a given content
is due always to the relations in which it is felt to stand. Thus,
we disbelieve in mermaids, not because the idea of mermaid
has any peculiar unreality-sign about it, but because it conflicts
with, or is inhibited by, other contents which are already be-
lieved. If the mermaid-content were before attention in com-
plete isolation, without any relations to other contents, it could
not be disbelieved or doubted. This is the familiar criticism of
Brentano's doctrine, made by Sigwart,2 Jerusalem3 and others.
We cannot reject an idea just by itself while attending to it ;
disbelief and doubt are directed toward an idea (it would be
better to say content) as in this or that relation.4
A doubted or disbelieved content then must be viewed in re-
lation to others, in order to be doubted or disbelieved. But
these other contents must be already believed ; we have got to
start with contents believed for their own sake, in themselves,
before inhibitions can work.
lLogik, Vol. I., p. 14.
1 Logic (English translation), p. 72, footnote.
8 Urteilsfunktion, p. 66.
4 This is close to Meinong's Objectiv, and suggests one more important use
for the Annahmen. Cf. Ueber AnnaAmen, Ch. III.
122 W. H. SHELDON.
And there seems no reason for claiming that what is orig-
inally accepted with reality-feeling need be viewed in relation
to other experience, in order to be accepted. Apparently an
isolated content could be so accepted, merely by itself. Here
is the strength of the intuitive or realistic definition of existence,
as an irreducible quale^ not relational. We must admit that as
regards mere reality-feeling, there is something irreducible ;
and a content C would seem not to need to be viewed in rela-
tion to other contents, in order to be thus accepted. But reality-
feeling as we have it in cases of simple apprehension, tends
to become more, to develop into belief in the sense of re-
solved doubt, firm against suggested disbelief. Viewed psy-
chologically, it is a disposition to believe against doubt. Now
belief against doubt, on the intellectual side at least, con-
sists in recalling the original reality-feeling and also the re-
lations or context in which the content in question was felt to
stand. This is proved by introspection. Thus, if you ask me,
did I just now really have the idea of a mermaid? I say, I did
have that idea, and the ground of my belief against doubt is
that I recall having just felt the presence of that idea, and also,
as added evidence against doubt, that it had its place in my con-
sciousness over against certain other feelings I then had, which
formed its context. I believe, against doubt, in the presence of
that content, in so far as I can repeat the reality-feeling and add
to it the psychically present relations that content bore. So
always : we confirm our beliefs not only by recalling our natural
reality-feeling but by viewing the believed content in the rela-
tions which, as believed, it bears.
To see the universality of this rule, we need only ask, could
the content be treated thus, unless it had been felt in certain re-
lations (or relation-germs) at the very outset, when we had only
reality -feeling, only the disposition to believe against doubt?
No, we reply, for it could not have been recalled as in a relation
or context or setting unless it had at sometime or other been
immediately felt in that setting. What the setting is, is appar-
ently indifferent ; it may be any relations or context you please,
and apparently need not be confined to the relation of distinc-
tion or difference. But some there must have been immediately
ANALYSIS OF SIMPLE APPREHENSION. 123
felt, if it is to be recalled : and the minimum is, of course, Cr.
Recent genetic psychology has confirmed this analytic result.
The conscious organism has advanced from reality-feeling
through doubt to certainty, by viewing each content in its set-
ting, its consequences practical and theoretical. Accordingly
we seem justified in affirming that there is an adaptation between
such a structure as Cr and the tendency to believe against
doubt.
If the argument is correct, it has shown that (i) simple ap-
prehension as here defined is independently actual and unex-
pectedly frequent in mental life, (2) it has the essential structure
of content in relation, or germ of relation (two contents not be-
ing needed, and one alone being insufficient), (3) it is closely
akin with fully developed judgment, in possessing that intrinsic
property of thought, liability to error, (4) there is perfect adapta-
tion between the structure of its object-matter and the function
it performs as a mental process of belief. Of the four, the
second is perhaps new as applied to cases of belief, and the
last, it is believed, is quite new. However that may be, these
two seem to the writer the most important of his results.
ESTHETIC IMAGERY.
BY H. HBATH BAWDEN.
Every notable theory of the aesthetic consciousness has had
to reckon with the question of the mutual relations of the sen-
suous and the ideal elements in beauty. Extreme sensationalist
theories have reduced it all to terms of sense. Extreme intel-
lectualist theories have reduced it all to the ideational or thought
element. It is now generally recognized that both are essen-
tial, the problem at the present time being rather the respective
parts played by each of these indispensable factors.
THE SENSE ELEMENT IN ART.
The word ' taste ' originally, of course, referred to sensations
of the palate. But it came to be used for aesthetic taste, and
aesthetics is often called, as by Kant, the theory of taste. But
in spite of Kant's protest against the use of the word ' aesthetics '
it has come into more general use than his own phrase ' judg-
ment of taste.'
' Esthetics ' by its etymology emphasizes the sense element.
Kant distinguished the agreeable and the beautiful, i. e., the
pleasures of sense and aesthetic pleasures. Mere sense, he held,
could not be made the basis of an aesthetic judgment — there
must be an intellectual element. Hence the lower senses and
even color and form and tone and rhythm, in the case of the
higher senses, yield only the subjective appreciation ' I like it' ;
they do not yield the objectively valid aesthetic judgment ' It is
beautiful.'
Kant's main contention must be admitted, that there must be
an intellectual ordering of the sense materials in order to yield
an aesthetic experience. Indeed, we have already seen, in
terms of Dr. Marshall's discussion, how it is the ideal element,
the imagery, which gives permanency to the pleasure-field of
aesthetic emotion. But, on the contrary, it must equally be
admitted that there can be no emotional, and therefore no
124
ESTHETIC IMAGERY. 125
aesthetic, experience without a fundamental basis of sense ele-
ments. Emotion is described in current psychological theory
as a complex of so-called lower sensations. But we need not
appeal to this still uncertain psychological theory of emotion, for
it is as true of ideational as it is of emotional life : there is a
basis of sense underlying the most abstract intellectual processes.
The problem, therefore, concerns the respective parts played
in the aesthetic experience by these two elements or factors —
the sensuous and the ideal. Spinoza said that experiences of
beauty are * confused acts of thought,' and Baumgarten, follow-
ing his lead, tried to establish a science of vaguely felt per-
fection (aesthetics), a science of obscure knowledge, alongside
of the science of clearly thought perfection (logic), the science
of precise knowledge. Kant agreed with them in holding that
there are some things which can be felt which cannot bethought
or willed, but he regarded the aesthetic experience as a union of
sense and reason in accordance with certain laws of the under-
standing itself. In this respect Kant laid the basis of the subse-
quent development of aesthetic theory at the hands of the idealists.
In Schelling beauty is * the infinite represented in finite form ' or
the finite is racked and stretched to become an expression of the
infinite. For Hegel beauty is the sensuous embodiment of the
ideal, the revelation of meaning by matter, spirit shining through
sense, the infinite and eternal manifested in the finite and tem-
poral. Through all these modifications of its function in de-
termining the nature of beauty, the sense element abides as an
indispensable factor.
The eye and the ear are called the aesthetic senses primarily
because they are the higher or more intellectual senses : the sense
material is more mediated by thought. But this supremacy of
the eye and the ear has interfered with the true understanding of
the aesthetic experience — since beauty on the emotional side is
grounded in the so-called lower senses. The distinction be-
tween the higher and lower senses is of ethical origin rather
than intrinsic to aesthetic inquiry. The fact, for example, that
the lower senses are more personal and interested, is not suffi-
cient ground for ruling them out of the aesthetic sphere, for, as
Professor Santayana says, even « disinterested ' and * unselfish '
126 H. HEATH BAWD EN.
interests ' have to be somebody's interests ' (Sense of Beauty ', p.
39) : it is not the fact that touch and temperature and smell and
taste are personal, that they are not ordinarily regarded as aes-
thetic, but because they are relatively unmediated.
It is asserted that the higher aesthetic senses are less violent
and extensive than the lower senses. But rhythm is a striking
exception to this rule. The universality of aesthetic pleasures
is contrasted with the personal isolative character of the lower
sense pleasures. But " nothing has less to do with the real
merit of a work of imagination than the capacity of all men to
appreciate it ; the true test is the degree and kind of satisfaction
it can give to him who appreciates it most " (Sense of Beauty r, p.
43). The truth is, that the aesthetic character of an experience
turns, not on the particular character of the sense elements pres-
ent, but upon the use made of them when present. Odors,
tastes, contacts, resistances may serve as the sensuous elements
in art as truly as color, line, tone and rhythm.
Under what conditions, then, does a lower sense quality
become aesthetic? This question may be answered in various
ways. When more than one sense is stimulated at a time, the
sensations involved in such consentient stimulation present the
conditions for aesthetic treatment, since here is provided the
opportunity for associative imagery to set in motion its machin-
ery of irradiation of the feeling-tone and interpretation of one
sense value in terms of another. In other words, here is pro-
vided a permanent pleasure-field with its focus and context, to
use Dr. Marshall's metaphor. An unconstrued sense experi-
ence— a succession of ripples or bird-notes — is not aesthetic.
To become aesthestic stimuli must be, not merely perceived, but
apperceived. Beauty, as Professor Santayana says (Sense of
Beauty, pp. 49-52), is pleasure objectified, pleasure regarded as
the quality of a thing ; aesthetic satisfaction is a mediated satis-
faction ; only the intellectually pleasurable can be aesthetic.
Eating and drinking are aesthetic just in the degree that they
differ, by being humanly mediated, from the feeding of brutes.
But this intellectualizing or mediating process must not be
understood in too narrow a sense. Civilized man is ear-minded
and eye-minded and the beautiful is the perfect for eye and ear ;
ESTHETIC IMAGERY. 127
but because this is true for most men it does not follow that it is
true for all, nor that in time the other sense experiences may not
become aestheticized. The reason why art in the past has been
chiefly in terms of vision, hearing and tactile-kinaesthetic com-
binations with these, is because here we have found the condi-
tions of the maximum combination of meaning and emotion, of
stimulation and repose. The reason the lower senses (with the
exception of rhythm and a few plastic effects) have not been the
avenues of aesthetic appreciation to a greater extent is that they
have been relatively poor in social, practical, scientific, ethical
and religious content — not because there has not been a won-
derfully rich emotional content of a personal sort in these sense
experiences, but because of a warped and unfrank self-con-
sciousness in things personal, these aspects of experience have
remained unmediated and impulsive. Beauty is * the character-
istic in as far as expressed for sense-perception or for imagina-
tion' (Bosanquet, History of ^Esthetics, p. 6), /. e., for the in-
tellectual imagery most closely connected with the habits and
emotions. As Schiller said, "In the eye and ear aggressive
matter is already hurled back from the sense, and the object is
set at a distance for us, while in the animal sense we are directly
in contact with it" (ibid.> p. 294). The highest type of beauty
is found in the living object, because here we have the maxi-
mum of meaning with sensuous embodiment. Nothing dead or
conceived of as dead seems as beautiful as the living. A flower
growing in the woods is much more beautiful than cut flowers
in a vase. Professor Knight suggestively brings out this in
asking us to suppose the opal to be alive : how that would en-
hance its beauty !
The practical, logical, ethical, religious meanings, in other
words, must be put into sensuous form before they can become
aesthetic. This means that they must be put in concrete rather
than abstract form before they can arouse the matrix of organic
and tactile-aesthetic sensations and images which constitute the
core of that pleasurable emotion which is essential to the aes-
thetic experience. In the words of Sully-Prudhomme, "It is
only by first caressing our senses that art arouses our feelings
and awakens our thoughts " (quoted by Him, Origins oj
128 H. HEATH BAWD EN.
p. 99). To the degree that the so-called non-esthetic intel-
lectual contents can be organized into the art -product and still
arouse this emotional background of sensuous elements, the
higher and greater the art.
THE THOUGHT ELEMENT IN ART.
Sensation is the material which is ordered and controlled by
that thought and reason which transform mere agreeable feeling
into aesthetic emotion. This factor of control is the ideal ele-
ment in art. Pleasure becomes aesthetic only when it becomes
significant, when it serves to usher in an idea which is expres
sive. Hirn says: ''When a savage had attained so high a
state of development as to be able to control the impulse to
dance and yell for joy, the first dithyramb had been com-
posed" (Origins of Art, p. 49).
Thought is man's method of managing his experience.
The image, idea or ideal is an instrument of control. There
is no faculty of imagination or idealization. Imagery is a fact,
not a faculty : it is a mere name, like attention or will, for the
fact that experience goes on in a certain way and in accordance
with certain laws, these laws being mere descriptive shorthand
for this observed uniformity. The image or idea must not be
regarded as an entity existing outside of consciousness and
having an existence whether the individual is thinking or not —
the fallacy of the associational psychology. Nor is it the mere
copy of a reality lying outside of our experience — the fallacy
of the representative theory of knowledge.
An image when it is not performing its function as an image,
is a physiological habit — a part of the neural structure of the
organism. There is no such thing accordingly, as the storing
up of images as such : they are stored up only in the sense of
producing modifications of structure in the nerve elements.
The image originates in the irradiation and retention of the ef-
fects of sense-impressions after the immediate excitation has
ceased. Every feeling or sensation produces a disturbance of
the entire organism so that " a process set up anywhere in the
centers reverberates everywhere, and in some way or other af-
fects the organism throughout" (James, Psychology, B. C., p.
ESTHETIC IMAGERY. 129
371). That is, physiological traces from every sensational ex-
perience are left in the nerve centers. These physiological
traces are what in the race we call instincts and in the individ-
ual habits. These traces get organized into systems, and,
under suitable conditions of difficulty or tension in adjustment,
are brought to consciousness as apperceptive systems. Memory
and imagination are just conscious habits.
But why and when do these habit-systems come to con-
sciousness as such systems of images? This is the important
question. The answer is : When, due to the relatively novel
conditions of a situation requiring new types of adjustment, these
habits are brought into consciousness for the sake of revision
and modification. Let a habit fail to work in the new situation
and it is thrown into the region of consciousness as an image
where it remains until the adjustment is rendered adequate.
The image is a middle term or intermediary between an old and
a new experience ; it is the bridge by which we pass over from
one state of relatively immediate experience to another — it is
the machinery of mediation. Imagination is simply image-
ination, the turning over of habit-systems into chains of ideas
(association) or systems of ideas (apperception). An idea is a
habit turned outside in.
The sense element in art represents the materials of beauty
in so far as they as yet are inadequate in calling forth the
aesthetic response — in psychological terms, the sensation rep-
resents the relatively unstimulating and inadequately stimulat-
ing stimulus. The ideal element in art, the aesthetic imagery,
represents inadequacy on the side of the habits of the artist or
appreciator; they do not enable him -to control the conditions,
hence they must be brought to consciousness for reconstruction
in the form of imagery : in psychological language, the aesthetic
image results from the obstructed or inhibited or inadequately
responding response.
The tactile-kinaesthetic imagery is the fundamental imagery
of meaning in art, as elsewhere, because it is the imagery of
action. Helen Kellar can have a highly developed intellectual
life and rich experience of values because she has this primary
imagery. It is inconceivable that she should be able to have
130 H. HEATH BAWD EN.
this, or even to survive, if it were lacking. It is not the most
efficient instrument in relation to the ends of science. The
visual and auditory imagery excel for purposes of verbal
analysis and definition. But any image may mediate the
aesthetic experience, if it fulfills the conditions of the law of
stimulation and repose, because all images are more or less
motor, i. <?., have a tactile-kinsesthetic basis. This is implied
in the part they play as instruments of control in the reorgani-
zation of experience. The character of an image is determined
primarily by its function in relation to the revision of habit
systems, and this is a matter of sensori-motor coordinations — a
matter of action. The value of an image lies therefore in its
function as a motor cue, not in its being a good visual picture
or auditory echo. The reality of an object must ultimately be
defined in terms of our overt or incipient reactions to it. " Any
object — a tree or chair, for instance — is a cluster of all the
possible modes of touching and manipulating it that we do not
carry out. ... It stands for a number of suppressed contact
reactions. . . . The image or object, therefore, as built up in
human experience, represents an intricate system of transla-
tions, substitutions, inhibitions," and since the image is merely
one experience used to get another, standing for it and control-
ling it, it follows that the final image * coalesces with the object,
is the object" (Adams, The Esthetic Experience, p. 16). In
other words, the image lasts only as long as the experience is
problematic, and falling short of what it aims to become.
But the image does in a sense and to a degree accomplish
what it sets out to accomplish, and in so far as this takes place
there develops a new phase which may be described as the dis-
tinctively aesthetic aspect. Miss Adams distinguishes between
what she calls the ' working image ' and the ' aesthetic image '
( The ^Esthetic Experience, pp. 17-18). The working image is
the purely intellectual or conceptual aspect prominent in all
serial or successive types of association. It is worn down to a
mere cue or signal, having lost most of its fulness of sensory
detail and emotional warmth. Drudgery exhibits the working
image in its extreme form. The aesthetic image is one which
has incorporated a more or less wide range of rich collateral
ESTHETIC IMAGERY. 13 '
materials of a sensory and emotional character into a relatively
simultaneous synthesis. If imagery in general represents con-
trolled impulsive and habitual responses, the aesthetic image
represents the maximum of such mediation or control compat-
ible with the experience as a whole remaining pleasurable.
And since all successful control is normally pleasurable, it fol-
lows that all practical and intellectual reconstruction of experi-
ence tends to culminate in an aesthetic moment. There must
be stimulation, diversity, cognitive differentiation, conflict of
habits and antagonism of impulses, in order to lift the experi-
ence from the plane of mere animal sense-impression. The
aesthetic consciousness * stands for the fullest possible simulta-
neous excitation of these old tendencies to response' (ibid., p.
76) compatible with its remaining a predominantly pleasurable
experience. This is doubtless Ruskin's meaning when he says :
"That art is greatest, which conveys to the mind of the spec-
tator, by any means whatsoever, the greatest number of the
greatest ideas, and I call an idea great in proportion as it is re-
ceived by a higher faculty of the mind, and as it more fully
occupies, and, in occupying, exercises and exalts, the faculty
by which it is received."
THE RELATIVE FREEDOM OF THE ESTHETIC IMAGE.
The chief characteristics of the aesthetic image are its rela-
tive freedom or disinterestedness in form, and the intrinsic
character of its content.
Kant says that " beauty is the form of purposiveness of an
object so far as this is perceived in it without any representation
of a purpose." That is, ' we contemplate beautiful objects as if
they were purposive, but they may not be so in reality.' The
aesthetic image must be a free image, not tied down to any non-
aesthetic utility. The aesthetic judgment is an optional judg-
ment, not instrumental to some transgredient end. " Everyone
must admit," says Kant, "that an aesthetic judgment in which
interest plays ever so small a part is partial and illegitimate.
To be a judge in matters of taste, the existence of the thing to
be judged must be indifferent to us." Nature is beautiful, he
says, only when it exhibits the purposiveness of art ; but art is
beautiful only when it exhibits the freedom of nature.
132 H. HEATH BAWDEN.
The aesthetic judgment may not depend on any utility, since
that would interfere with its disinterestedness. It may not be
determined even by a standard of perfection, for according to
Kant, the idea of perfection implies a criterion outside and
beyond, and the aesthetic judgment must find its justification
wholly from within. Kant distinguishes between free beauty
and dependent beauty and holds that a perfectly free disinter-
ested beauty cannot express an ideal, since an ideal suggests
dependence on something beyond itself. Flowers in the state
of nature, humming-birds, sea-shells, ornamental borders on
wall-paper, he says represent free or self-subsistent or true
aesthetic beauty, but flowers as they appear to the botanist,
beauty of the human form, a church building, have only de-
pendent beauty because they imply a certain purpose or use.
Many writers since Kant have followed him in this doctrine of
the aloofness and uselessness of art — it is one of the fallacious
meanings of that ambiguous phrase * art for art's sake.'
But if our preceding analysis of the relation of the sensuous
and ideal elements in beauty is correct, it is not the presence or
meaning of purpose but the irrelevance of the purpose, which
interferes with an object being beautiful. Meaning is no bar-
rier to beauty if the meaning be intrinsic, i. £., relatively ade-
quate as an embodiment of the relations which it suggests. We
are free in the aesthetic experience, but we are not free from all
ends or meanings ; we are free only from necessary relation to
an extrinsic end. Indeed, the freedom is gained just by the
controlled or relatively adequate organization of what would
otherwise be transgredient ends, into terms of an harmonious
but internally diversified system.
Kant says: "We could add much to a building which
would incidentally please the eye, if only it were not to be a
church. We could adorn a figure with all kinds ... of lines,
if only it were not the figure of a human being. And again
this could have much finer features and a more pleasing and
gentle cast of countenance provided it were not intended to
represent a man, much less a warrior" (Bernard's translation
of The Critique of Judgment, p. 82). But the true principle
here should be to so embody the generic meanings of the
ESTHETIC IMAGERY. 133
religious institution in the church building or of humanity in
the warrior, that these individual creations would enhance these
meanings, not seek to purify the aesthetic judgment by empty-
ing it of all relevant meanings whatsoever. Not the presence
of purpose but the particularity and arbitrariness of the purpose
militate against beauty. There must be relevancy as well as
elusiveness in order to call out those deep-lying intellectual
habits whose exploitation along not too unfamiliar lines is
pleasurable. The meaning, in other words, must be organic
with its sensuous expression or embodiment : there must be a
free interaction of its parts with each other. This is the truth
in the doctrine of the freedom of the aesthetic image and the
disinterestedness of art.
ITS MEANING RELATIVELY INTRINSIC.
There is nothing that in itself has aesthetic value. Beauty
comes from the making intrinsic of the other values. Anything
is artistic or beautiful in the degree that it involves the con-
sciousness of an end in terms of an organic and functional syn-
thesis of the means. " A mere work of art is a baseless arti-
fice," says Professor Santayana (Reason in Art, p. 208). Art
for art's sake is art become self-conscious in the bad sense, art
become professional : the artist should have no consciousness be-
yond that of adequately organizing the meanings which come
to him from other spheres of life. Beauty is its own excuse
for being because it is just the other values finding adequate
expression.
The aesthetic object, the thing of beauty which is a joy for-
ever, consists of a functionally complete synthesis of the rele-
vant elements in the situation. The fundamental principle of
artistic production and the key to (esthetic appreciation is this :
such a disposition of the factors -which enter into the object as
•will give to each its maximum meaning in the context. '» The
purest beauty can only be said to exist where there is no portion
of a contemplated total which is not considered part of an or-
ganic whole " (Spiller, Mind of 'Man , p. 485). The form must
be an adequate embodiment of the content ; the content must be
an adequate individualization of the form. «* Style is good,"
134 H. HEATH BAWD EN.
says Professor Buck, " only when it is precisely correspondent
with thought, when it expresses faithfully just the idea involved.
Style is bad when it is insufficient to convey the enfolded
thought ; bad when it obscures that thought with unilluminating
words. ... In style a word that finds its own life shall lose it;
but the word that loses its own assertive identity for the thought's
sake, the same shall find it." " Ornament construction, never
construct ornament," said Richardson, the great architect.
" In art," says Goethe, " there appears first a simple impression,
then a stage of analysis, which is followed by a return and
synthesis of the significant feeling of the whole, which is the
aesthetic."
Fine art, from this point of view, is any human production
whose form is a relatively adequate embodiment of its content.
Adequacy here means utility. Art is the idealization of the
useful. Anything that is well-adapted to its purpose is in the
way to become beautiful. Adequacy means relevancy. Beauty
is the truth of art and art is the splendor of truth. "Things
are not really grasped in their truth unless they are seen in that
harmonious relation to the whole which yields complete aesthetic
satisfaction" (Mackenzie, Elements of Metaphysics,^. 126).
Adequacy means cosmic morality, not necessarily morality in
the conventional sense, but soundness ethically in relation to the
abiding destiny of man. Adequacy means social solidarity.
"We know of no world," writes Goethe, "save one that is
related to man, and we may have no art except as an expression
of that relation. . . . Each art demands the whole man. The
highest attainment of art — the significant — demands all
humanity."
CONCRETE VERSUS FORMAL BEAUTY.
The problem we have been discussing, on one side, is the
problem of formal versus concrete elements in beauty. The
formal elements, what may be called the principle of order, are
found on the side of those sensuous qualities which give a pleas-
urable emotional consciousness. Such formal elements are
color, light and shade, line, symmetry, proportion, tone, timbre,
harmony, rhythm, arrangement or composition — any phase of
AESTHETIC IMAGERY. 135
the beautiful object which depends upon the exploiting of sen-
sori-motor habits within pleasurable limits.
The concrete elements in beauty, the principle of the con-
tent of the beautiful, or the beauty of ideas, are found on the
ideational side, in the meaning or significance of the beautiful
object, its associations, its practical, scientific, social, ethical,
religious values. The content of the beautiful, in other words,
is dependent upon mediation by ideas. It is a question of the
logic of the situation or what might be called the dialectic of
beauty. The formal elements in art were emphasized by the
Greeks almost to the exclusion of the concrete elements. The
extreme emphasis on the concrete elements is found in the
modern art-theory of the Romanticists.
Mere thought is not concrete enough to arouse the habits
and emotions essential to aesthetic pleasure — it must be found
in or put into sensuous form. Yet, on the other hand, a mere
succession of sense impressions is not in itself beautiful — it
must mean something. The mere singing of a bird is not art
— certainly not to the bird, and not to man until he becomes
civilized. This is the limitation on Darwin's theory of the
origin of art in the phenomena of sexual selection. Not until
conditions arise which give mating and courting songs ideal
significance may the artistic, and in this case the romantic, ele-
ment be said to have arisen.
This ideal element or ' significance ' in extreme instances
gives value even to objects lacking in immediate sensuous ap-
peal, but it is only because the sensuous element is vicariously
present in the penumbra of the aesthetic image. The sight of
some once frequented garden, as Professor Santayana reminds
us, may call up an aesthetic emotion, even though the present
fact may be indifferent or positively repellent (Sense of Beauty,
p. 193). The mementos of a lost friend may not in themselves
be beautiful. A trifle is often valued for its associations. The
beauty of a large proportion of the ornaments in many a draw-
ing-room is associative — as witness the historic interest or
symbolic meaning of heirlooms, books, pictures, curios, an-
tiques, etc.
Man is not beautiful, says Lipps, because of his form.
136 H. HEATH BAWD EN.
The human form is beautiful because it is to us the carrier of
human life. The orange is the most beautiful of fruits, says
Fechner, because of the romantic associations with the South
which it calls up. " When we behold a beautiful form," says
Brown, " all the images suggested by it, live in like manner in
it." And long ago Alison wrote : " Wherever the appearances
of the material world are expressive to us of qualities we love
or admire ; wherever, from our education, our connections, our
habits, or our pursuits, its qualities are associated in our minds
with affecting or interesting emotion, there the pleasures of
beauty or of sublimity are felt, or at least are capable of being
felt. Our minds, instead of being governed by the character
of external objects, are enabled to bestow upon them a charac-
ter which does not belong to them ; and even with the rudest,
or the commonest appearances of nature, to connect feelings of
a nobler or a more interesting kind, than any that the mere in-
fluences of matter can ever convey."
But in the highest art the sensuous is controlled by the ideal
element. The relation of impulse to ideal is the same here as
in ethics. Sensuous emotion is impulsive, uncontrolled emotion.
Ideal emotion is controlled, defined and articulated by signifi-
cance or meaning, by the ideal element. It is possible to get
satisfaction in either way, but the satisfaction that comes from
:.ueal emotion is more permanent, generic, universal : it alone
is aesthetic. The highest art is typical, representative, as well
as sensuous : it does not stamp out the sensuous element but
utilizes it to enrich an ideal social, ethical, religious, industrial,
scientific, philosophic content or meaning. The intellectualists
are right in insisting that the sense element alone can never be
the basis of the sesthetic consciousness, because of the lack of
permanency and ideal significance in the lower sense pleasures.
But the sensationalists are right in insisting that the most abstract
thought experience is ultimately grounded on a sensational
basis. The truth is that the aesthetic quality lies not in certain
experiences rather than others, but in such a ratio or proportion
of these sensuous and ideal elements as gives the maximum
of ideal mediation combined with the maximum of sensuous
pleasurable emotion.
ESTHETIC IMAGERY. 137
The great work of art is always an idealization. But a
mere ideal is a contradiction in terms. The ideal is the pro-
jected actual. * An idea is a tentative view of the fact,' says
Professor Dewey. The ideal arises when there is inadequacy
of the real, when there is a problem. Hence the principle
which should govern is to see that the ideal is a natural out-
growth of the real while yet in a sense transcending it, just
because it itself represents the reconstruction of the real. The
only difference between the function of ideas in science and
philosophy and ideals in art is that in the latter case we put the
limitation upon them that they must be pleasurable. We insist
that the function of art is to inspire, not to instruct ; but this, in
the last analysis, means simply that its instruction shall be given
in pleasing forms.
Great artists have always insisted that the aim of art is "to
produce a representation of nature in which the essential char-
acters enjoy an absolute sovereignty" (Taine). " Conception,
fundamental brain-work — that is what makes the difference in
all art" (Thomas Davidson, History of Education, p. 44). This
is as true of art as it is of science. Art cannot get along with-
out a contenfof great meanings if there is to be great art. Its
insistence on a sensuous embodiment is not grossness nor sen-
suality : it means rather formativeness, inspirational character
in relation to human personality, which does not understand
much truth until it appeals to the ' whole man.' It represents
the logical, scientific and other non-aesthetic meanings in the
most adequate form compatible with their giving successful and
therefore pleasurable control of experience. The artistic insight
is the most adequate embodiment of the intellectual, the prac-
tical and the moral in so far as these stand for control. It is
when they are imposed as abstractions upon the art product that
they are felt as irrelevant. This is the true mysticism of art :
not that it glimpses meanings which are beyond science and
philosophy, but that the meanings it does glimpse are such as
may be brought home to man's affective-volitional as well as to
his intellectual nature.
Where this control by the highest intellectual or moral ideal
is absent, beauty itself suffers, just because the aesthetic moment
138 H. HEATH BAWDEN.
in such cases is not mediated to the furthest point compatible
with inward reinforcement and repose. This is the platonic
teaching — "To excite passions idly is to enervate the soul"
(Santayana, Reason in Art, p. 176). "When moralists depre-
cate passion and contrast it with reason, they do so, if they are
themselves rational, only because passion is so often ' guilty,'
because it works havoc so often in the surrounding world and
leaves, among other ruins, ' a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed.'
Were there no danger of such after-effects within and without
the sufferer, no passion would be reprehensible. Nature is
innocent, and so are all her impulses and moods when taken in
isolation; it is only on meeting that they blush" (p. 168).
"And so when by yielding to a blind passion for beauty we
derange theory and practice, we cut ourselves off from those
beauties which alone could have satisfied our passion" (p. 186).
THERE is A MEANING : BUT THAT MEANING is ELUSIVE.
There must be a meaning, as Professor Fite maintains, but
that meaning must be elusive (Psv. REV., March, 1901, p. 140).
To say that there must be a meaning, signifies that some habit
or habit-system is brought to consciousness in the form of im-
agery or apperception-systems which, on the whole, are familiar
and agreeable to contemplate. But the mere presence of a
familiar content which because of its familiarity tends to be
agreeable, does not in itself constitute it an aesthetic experience.
Too great familiarity without diversity or stimulation, results in
monotony and automatism. There must be a meaning, but that
meaning must be elusive or stimulating enough to function the
habits as images within pleasurable limits. Lessing calls "for
an incompletion of detail in the artist's work, that the imagina-
tion may have room in which to work its expansive effects "
(cf. Marshall, ^Esthetic Principles, p. 115). "Those things in
nature and humanity are most beautiful which most of all sug-
gest what transcends themselves " (Knight, Philosophy of the
Beautiful, II., p. 15). This is well illustrated in poetry: "In
all its types — whether lyric, epic, dramatic, comic, elegaic,
satire, or descriptive — poetry begins with a representation
either of what once was, or of what now is ; but, being a new
AESTHETIC IMAGERY. 139
embodiment of reality, it invariably tends towards what is as
yet unembodied, while it pursues the ideal through the maze,
the imperfection, and the discords of the actual" (p. no).
The adequacy of the form to the content, the insistence on
a meaning, represents the factor of habit, pleasure, repose, in
the aesthetic experience. The milk-maid's stool is beautiful not
because of its adequacy as a stool, its meaning in itself, but be-
cause of its associations. A throne may be beautiful in addi-
tion because of the fine carving on it. A bench in the class-
room or a common chair with no sentimental associations lacks
the aesthetic quality just because of the too complete adequacy
of the meaning, the lack of the element of elusiveness. In
other words, the formal element in art, the sensuous and emo-
tional element, is wholly dependent upon its relation to the con-
crete contentual element in producing the aesthetic moment.
The elusiveness represents the factor of relative tension, ex-
citement, stimulation, diversity, variety, the relativity of the
adequacy. The aesthetic quality of the milk-maid's stool is de-
pendent upon the suggested associations. The elusiveness, the
stimulating factor, in the case of the throne, is found in the rich
decorations. The lack of elusiveness, the perfect obviousness
of the meaning in the case of the common chair, accounts for
its not entering the aesthetic sphere. The office of the imagina-
tion, as Alexander says, is to liberate the spirit from habitual
and communal thinking" (Poetry and the Individual, p. 113).
The ordinary photograph lacks this quality of elusiveness ex-
cept to perhaps the few persons who know the person repre-
sented well enough to supply it vicariously ; the Mona Liza and
Whistler's portrait of his mother are a perennial delight.
THE ELUSIVENESS OF MODERN ART.
Elusiveness is everywhere essential to art. It is found in
ancient as well as in modern aesthetic products. But there is
elusiveness in modern art in a sense and of a kind unknown to
earlier times. Along with the closer synthesis of man with
nature which modern science has made possible has come the
liberation of the imagination and the emancipation of the indi-
vidual which have given us romanticism.
140 H. HEATH BAWDEN.
Greek drama depicted the completed act. Modern drama
attempts to depict the activity in process, a line of action, the
movement of the plot, the solution of the problem actually
taking place before the eye — in terms of its psychological mo-
tivation. In a general sense, it may be said that the Greek
artists were not artists but artisans, whose ideal was to repro-
duce certain fixed ideas of Hellenic civilization — Zeus, Minerva,
Pallas Athene, etc. Modern art, on the contrary, is striving
toward the production in sensuous form of the transcendent
ideas of change, life, growth, development, evolution. We are
inventing all sorts of devices for representing movement, activ-
ity, function. We think kinetoscopically. The aim of the
Greek artist was the reproduction of ideas familiar to his audi-
ence. The modern artist boasts that he is not understood, that
he represents an idea which transcends his audience. The con-
tent of the former is universal, typical, generic; but fixed, static,
and, logically speaking, dead. The content of the latter is in-
dividual, moving, dynamic and functional. The Greeks repre-
sented their Gods as arrested in a state of immortal youth. The
God of the modern is a sumptuous Interrogation-Point.
That is, in the case of the ancient artist, the solution is given
with the problem ; in the case of the modern artist the problem
is given without the solution or in process of solution. The one
is concerned with perfecting an already accepted form ; the
other is interested chiefly in the reformulation. Greek art was
a closed circle ; modern art is a spiral curve. In modern art we
have problem after problem presented with, if any, only tenta-
tive solutions. This is the leading characteristic of most of the
powerful modern novels. They suggest future vistas of possible
solutions, working hypotheses only, rather than any ultimate in-
terpretation or final evaluation. This is the inevitable result of
the influence of the modern emphasis upon the psychical and
personal and individual element in experience. Idealism and
romanticism represent the influence of psychology upon art.
Modern industry, science and philosophy, as well as its art, are
becoming psychologized in this sense. Art is becoming more
self-conscious in its method, with the result that it gives you a
drift or an intent instead of a finished product. You catch the
AESTHETIC IMAGERY. 141
artist's soul still struggling in the toils of his great passion rather
than the post-reflective contemplation of it from the vantage of
its triumph or failure.
On the other hand, just this elusiveness in an extreme form
is the defect of modern art, where it is not controlled by a great
insight. Most of our impressionistic art does not go beyond the
statement of the problems with which our modern industry and
science are engaged — a statement falling often into the real-
istic fallacy of seeking to simply transcribe the facts. It has
not caught the spirit of the technique of modern science with its
elaborate system of controlled hypothesizing and experimental
gambling with concepts. Mystery, as someone has said, is
proportionate, not to ignorance, but to knowledge. Fear may
spring from ignorance, but growing knowledge deepens rever-
ence and adoration. Science is transforming nature into a work
of art, and in the method of science must be found, not only the
meaning which is at the heart of all beauty, but also that
elusiveness which gives it a propitious form. Who will write
the epic of evolution, the lyric of the hyper-space, the drama of
the subliminal uprush, the comedy of the Absolute, a sonnet to
radioactivity, an elegy on sex? In what monumental work of
art will we embody our ideals of democracy and the superman
and the new woman?1
1 The MS. of this article was received October 20, 1908. — ED.
ANNOUNCEMENTS .
The May issue of the REVIEW will be a ' Darwin ' number,
devoted to a symposium on the Influence of Charles Darwin on
the Mental and Moral Sciences and Philosophy.
The REVIEW announces the beginning of the publication of
a series of bound volumes to be known as the * Library of
Genetic Science and Philosophy.' It will include researches
and treatises on topics relating to the genetic sciences generally,
from organic evolution to genetic logic and philosophy. The
first volume, now in press, is a study of ' Genetic Ethics ' by
Professor A. E. Davies, of the Ohio State University. (Re-
view Publishing Co., Baltimore.)
N. S. VOL. XVI. No. 3. May, 1909.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.
THE INFLUENCE OF CHARLES DARWIN UPON
HISTORICAL AND POLITICAL THOUGHT.
BY PRESIDENT ARTHUR TWINING HADLEY,
Yale University.
The preliminary work which needed to be done before peo-
ple could apply Darwinian methods in history was not so great
as the corresponding work which had to be done in biology.
When Darwin presented the doctrine of evolution by natural
selection to the zoologists and botanists, he had to deal with men
who for the most part did not believe in evolution of any kind.
They had been brought up to regard different species as having
an independent existence. The idea of development of types
by slow processes of change was something new and foreign to
their minds. In history or in politics the case was different.
These sciences are based on a fundamental assumption of an
evolutionary doctrine. If different historical events were inde-
pendent of one another there would be no sense in writing his-
tory at all. All serious investigators in this field, from Thu-
cydides and Aristotle down to the present time, have sought
either to develop the details of this orderly and gradual evolu-
tion or to lay down the principles of its operation. The man
who to-day reads the Politics of Aristotle for the first time will
be struck by the prevalence of methods of thought which many
biologists suppose Darwin to have invented. And the same
idea of evolution thus used by Aristotle has been applied in vary-
ing forms by all who sought to develop a philosophy of history
— by Hegel and his followers in Germany or by men of the
type of Henry Thomas Buckle in England.
Not only was the idea of evolution thus familiar to the his-
torians ; the idea of natural selection was also prominent in the
'43
144 ARTHUR TWINING HAD LEY.
minds of many of them. The whole doctrine of John Stuart
Mill concerning liberty was founded upon reliance on a process
of natural selection. Look for your hero in all possible direc-
tions, he said, and you get the best chance of finding him. The
issue between Mill and Carlyle reminds one of the controver-
sies between Darwinian and anti-Darwinian in the field of
biology. Carlyle believed in the special creation of a number
of individual heroes ; Mill, together with nearly all scientifically
trained historians, believed in the evolution of heroes by natural
selection.
The conception of economic or political conflict as a means
of determining the survival of the fittest was seen perhaps even
more conspicuously in Malthus's theory of population — a theory
which Darwin himself regarded as having in some respects
foreshadowed his own work. Malthus made it a fundamental
basis of his doctrine that population tended to outrun subsist-
ence ; that the struggle for existence was a constant process of
elimination of the weak ; and that any attempt to interfere with
this process resulted rather in the deterioration than in the im-
provement of the peoples that it was designed to benefit.
If then the idea of evolution had been a fundamental one in
historical and political science for more than two thousand years,
and if the idea of elimination by natural selection was by no
means unfamiliar to political thinkers, what was there left for
Darwin to do in this field?
He found at least two things to do. In the first place, he
showed how natural selection was a means of developing, not
only individuals of superior ability or intelligence, but types of
superior adaptation to their surroundings ; and he taught us
further to regard this adaptation of the type to its surroundings
as the thing which gave it its right to exist.
The first of these points is well illustrated by the history of
the Malthusian theory before and after Darwin. Malthus and
almost all the Malthusians before the time of Darwin talked of
an actual struggle for food between different individuals. They
thought that there was not enough food to go round, and that
this fact was a direct means of keeping workers up to a certain
standard of efficiency and prudence by the direct elimination of
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN UPON THOUGHT. 145
the weak. To-day we see that the result is far more indirect
than this. There is, in civilized communities at least, no habitual
scarcity of food. This has been avoided by the development of
certain institutions like the family and private property and
certain motives which go with those institutions which prevent
the scarcity that would otherwise exist. A generation ago the
critics of Malthus thought that the non-existence of the scarcity
disproved the Malthusian theory. To-day we see that it confirms
it. It shows that the type has adapted itself to its environment.
It is the institution even more than the man that has been
marked out for survival by the process of natural selection.
We have known for generations how elimination affected the
development of individuals. It was Darwin who taught us to
account in this way for the growth of species — in history as
well as in biology. And in thus accounting for the origin and
growth of institutions, he furnished for the first time an objective
justification of the ethical standards and motives by which those
institutions were upheld. Every prominent political thinker
before Darwin, with the one notable exception of Edmund
Burke, referred historical events to some preconceived ethical
standard of his own, and judged them to be good or bad accord-
ing as they conformed to his preconceived ideas. This is true
even of a man like John Stuart Mill. He had great natural
love of liberty, and was essentially tolerant in his disposition.
Yet one can feel in all his work the underlying assumption that
the chief reason for approving of liberty is its effect in develop-
ing the type of character represented by the liberal and tolerant
Englishman of the nineteenth century.
This attitude of mind was a great help to Mill in arranging
a coherent system of political economy ; and as long as he ad-
dressed an audience whose general views and general standards
were like his own, it enabled him to appeal to them with great
force. But the instant he was brought face to face with a pro-
tectionist like Carey or a socialist like Lassalle, what had pre-
viously been an element of strength became an element of weak-
ness. There was no common ground from which to reason,
and no means of finding any. It was Darwin who furnished
the common ground. It was Darwin who gave the judgments
146 ARTHUR TWINING HAD LEY.
of historians and of political thinkers the possibility of reaching
objective results which were previously unattainable. You like
one kind of man and one kind of institution ; I like another kind
of man or another kind of institution. Very well ; let us set to
work to discover which, in the long run, is going to prevail
over the other. That which will prevail in the long run must
be right. This is for the historian the center and gist of Dar-
winism. We all assumed that orderly evolution existed; we
most of us understood a good deal about a process of natural
selection which was going on. But none of us until Darwin
came had learned to take the results of natural selection as a
standard ; to make the fact of permanence the test of the right
to remain ; to assume the view of the philosophical pragmatist
in dealing with the problems that came before us.
Of course this is a doctrine that needs to be applied with
great care. The frank acceptance of survival as a test of right
is attended with the great danger that we may take too short
periods of history under our observation, and may think that an
idea or an institution has won the race when it is riding most
hurriedly toward its downfall. But in spite of all these dangers,
the necessity of applying the survival test compels the man who
is naturally dogmatic to be somewhat less so, and helps the man
who is naturally objective to be somewhat more so. It is a
restraint upon the man who does not want to have to prove his
points ; it is an assistance to the man who does.
This change in modes of thought and criteria of ethics did
not come suddenly. It was far easier for popular writers to
seize upon certain results of Dai win's thinking and try to apply
them to history in the form of rhetorical analogies than it was
to get at the Darwinian habit of mind in dealing with historical
problems in general. Herbert Spencer's writings furnish a very
marked instance of this error. Spencer's style was so felicitous
and his works were so widely read that he did a good deal
to retard the application of the really important results of Dar-
win's work to political thinking. Spencer and his followers
made much of the conception of society as an organism ; but
they overlooked the fact that historians had been treating society
as an organism for more than two thousand years. In the belief
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN UPON THOUGHT. 147
that they had occupied a new field, they permitted themselves
to employ a number of loose analogies, in total ignorance of
the fact that competent observers had already gone over much
of the ground by scientific methods. Historians had been prov-
ing which forms of social life did survive ; and this proof, de-
fective or uncertain as it was in many instances, was yet better
than the guesses of the Spencerian, on the basis of remote
analogy, as to which forms of social life were going to survive.
When Spencer pronounced evolution good or bad according as
it did or did not ' proceed from an incoherent indefinite homo-
geneity to a coherent definite heterogeneity,' he was writing
down in large letters the fact that he was born a good while
before The Origin of Species had appeared. He had put on a
few of the external attributes of the modern biologist ; that was
all. The hands were the hands of Esau, but the voice was the
voice of Jacob. Or, to take an instance from a different field,
when W. K. Clifford, in his now almost forgotten Lectures and
Essays, proclaimed the right and duty of the unlimited exercise
of private judgment, and called down anathemas on the head
of every man who wished to exercise his own private judgment
to the extent of differing from Mr. W. K. Clifford in this par-
ticular, he simply showed that he lived too early to have felt
the full effect of The Origin of Species in leading people to
substitute objective criteria for subjective ones.
But it would perhaps be toward the purpose to give instances
of writers who were influenced by Darwin, instead of those who
were not.
Among English economists, the man who was quickest to
feel the force of the new movement was Walter Bagehot.
Bagehot's Darwinian ideas are popularly known from his Phys-
ics and Politics — an interesting and often exceedingly brilliant
set of conjectures regarding the operation of survival in prehis-
toric periods. But Bagehot's main work and main interest were
always in the nearer parts of history, and particularly economic
history, rather than the remoter parts. He it was who, in an
age when England still followed John Stuart Mill blindly, first
questioned the general admissibility of Mill's assumptions. In
these twentieth century days, when competition is regarded,
148 ARTHUR TWINING HAD LEY.
not as an axiom or postulate of political economy, but simply as
an important incident in its development, it is difficult for us to
understand the courage that was involved forty years ago in
publishing two critical essays in which competition was regarded,
not as a standard to which all things must conform, but as one
among several alternative phases or modes of social service,
whose relative claims were to be investigated and relative merits
judged by their applicability to given conditions. In this mental
attitude the English writer who has followed Bagehot most
closely is W. J. Ashley, whose English Economic History may
be taken as furnishing a clear exemplification of Darwin's in-
fluence upon the methods of modern economic thought.
Meantime a German investigator in economics, Adolf
Wagner, of Berlin, had been taking up Darwinian methods on
a larger scale and applying them with conspicuous success.
Wagner may be said to have developed his Darwinism at the
opposite end from Bagehot. Bagehot had been brought up in
the methods of the deductive school of economics, and was
impressed with their inapplicability ; Wagner had been accus-
tomed to the methods of the historical school of economics, and
was impressed with their inconclusiveness. While Bagehot
wanted to make his analysis broad enough to fit different kinds
of facts, Wagner was concerned to make his synthesis coherent
enough to bring him to some positive proofs and conclusions.
Wagner's treatment of the theory of property right is a good
example of his philosophical method. He rejects both the crude
juristic theory that property right is based upon occupancy and
the equally crude philosophic theory that it ought to be based
on labor. Society has established property right because it has
shown itself the best motive — in fact, apparently the necessary
motive — in order to get industry well and efficiently managed.
It is only by the application of this last theory that you can
make a connection between what is and what ought to be ; be-
tween your history and economics on the one hand and your
law and ethics on the other. If the philosopher says that prop-
erty ought to be based upon labor, the jurist can laugh at him.
If the jurist says that property is based upon occupancy or upon
the constitution of society, the philosopher can say that the
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN UPON THOUGHT. 149
occupants are bad men and that the sooner society changes its
constitution the better. But if property is an institution which
has survived while other forms of social organization have failed,
because property preserves nations and socialism destroys them,
then socialism is disproved by the logic of events — the logic
that Darwin has taught us to apply to problems of this kind.
It is, however, not so much in its special applications that
the Darwinian theory has affected modern political science as in
the general habit of mind which it has fostered and cultivated. It
has not led to many great discoveries which can be set apart
from the general run of facts previously known ; but it has led
to changes in the methods of judgment which enable us to un-
derstand and use all historical facts in a more objective way.
A few years ago, when Dr. Jowett was master of Balliol,
there was a discussion concerning two men who had attained
high position at an early age. One of them had become a
bishop, the other a judge ; and the conversation turned on the
respective merits of the two careers. One of the dons said, " I
prefer the bishop. The judge can only say, * You be hanged ' ;
the bishop can say, 'You be damned.'" "Yes," said Dr.
Jowett, sententiously, "but when the judge says * You be
hanged ' you are hanged" The influence of Charles Darwin
on historical and political thought may be summed up by saying
that he has made our historians cease to aspire to be bishops and
content themselves with the more modest but also more effective
position of judges. For broad principles of judgment which
they could not apply effectively they have substituted narrower
but clearer ones whose application can be made evident to their
fellow men.
I have spoken of this attitude of mind as having been fore-
shadowed in the works of Edmund Burke. To him, as to the
modern thinker, human history was the record of a process of
elimination and survival. To him political institutions and
political ideas had grown up as a means of preserving the race
that held them. And to him also it was unwarrantable to
attempt to tear down on a priori grounds beliefs and methods
that had preserved the race that held them, unless you were able
to substitute something practically better in their place. A thing
150 ARTHUR TWINING HADLEY.
did not seem to him correct which was logically good and prac-
tically bad. He suspected a defect in the logic. Was he right
or wrong? In the first half of the nineteenth century the ma-
jority of men would have said that he was from a theoretical
standpoint wrong. They admired his insight into the political
conditions of his day, but they would have none of his theories.
To-day the world feels a little less sure about some of his indi-
vidual judgments than it did at the time when they were uttered ;
but as a matter of theory it has accepted his method as a sound
one. It is in general prepared to make survival a test of right.
This is Darwin's contribution to political science ; and the
completeness with which this contribution is accepted is shown
by the sudden cessation of public interest in books which do not
apply or accept that test. Students of politics no longer read
either Hegel or Comte. Buckle's History of Civilization,
which in the years immediately following its appearance had a
greater success than Darwin's Origin of Species, is now known
only to a few specialists in literary history. Mill's Principles
of Political Economy is valued for its contributions to the theory
of banking ; but as a work of political philosophy it has lost the
place which its author, modest man though he was, confidently
claimed for it.
We can get a curious idea of the kind of change which has
taken place by comparing two works which are closely akin,
by two men who were closely associated — Mill on Liberty and
Morley on Compromise. The two writers deal with nearly the
same topic. They approach it with nearly the same prepos-
sessions. They arrive at almost exactly the same practical con-
clusions. Yet Morley is read to-day, and Mill, speaking broadly,
is not. Why? Because Mill is constantly referring things to
a subjective standard, and Morley to an objective one. Mill's
whole argument is essentially an argumentum ad hominem,
even when it takes the form of an appeal to experience ;
Morley's an appeal to experience, even when it takes the form
of an argumentum ad hominem.
We may not be any more correct in our political reasoning
than our fathers. I dare say that when the world contrasts the
political philosophy of to-day with that of a generation or two
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN UPON THOUGHT. 151
ago it will reprove us for our crude judgments and for the
irreverence with which we have cast aside work that was better
than our own because it did not reach its results by our methods.
But we are at least trying as no previous generation has tried
to get objective standards on which different men and different
ages can agree ; and for this effort, and for whatever measure
of success it has attained, we may thank Charles Darwin.
THE INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY.
BY PROFESSOR JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL,
The University of Chicago.
I.
Darwinism has never been a really vital issue in psychology.
Occasionally a theologian or a naturalist has inveighed against
the Darwinian theory of mental evolution, but the psychologists
as such have rarely uttered a protest. In view of the storm of
vituperative scientific criticism precipitated by the publication of
the Origin of Species, this fact is distinctly significant. Indeed,
so much a matter of course have the essential Darwinian con-
ceptions become, that one is in danger of assuming fallaciously
that Darwinism has no important bearing on psychology. How
Darwin's radical theories succeeded in gaining such easy access
to the psychological sanctuary is a matter of distinct interest
upon which a few speculative comments may be made.
It must be borne in mind, then, that Darwin's most revolu-
tionary ideas on mental evolution did not appear until the pub-
lication of the Descent of Man in 1871. This was nearly thirty
years after Weber's epoch-making experiments on sensations,
almost a score of years after the appearance of Lotze's med-
ical psychology, sixteen years after the issuance of Spencer's
evolutionary psychology and Bain's work on the Senses and
Intellect, with its excellent presentation of the facts of nervous
organization, eleven years after Fechner's publication of the
Psychophysik, nine years after the first edition of Helmholtz's
Sensations of Tone and seven years after his Physiological
Optics. It was only three years in advance of the first edi-
tion of Wundt's Physiological Psychology. There had thus
been rapidly growing during the preceding thirty years a dis-
position to view mental life as intimately connected with physi-
ological processes, as capable of investigation along experimental
and physiological lines, and finally as susceptible of explanation
in an evolutionary manner. Moreover, by the time the Descent
\
INFLUENCE OP DAK WIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. »53
of Man was published the weight of scientific authority, so
heavily against Darwin at the time of the publication of the
Origin of Species in 1859, had swung unmistakably to hit
support.
Another circumstance of probably more than negligible mo-
ment is found in the fact that the major interest of many psy-
chologists has always been in the more narrowly analytical prob-
lems of mind. On these problems Darwinism has had little
immediate bearing and has exercised only the smallest fructify-
ing influence. Its contentions have seemed, therefore, to demand
no very vigorous partisanship either one way or the other.
The effect of certain philosophic tendencies ought, no doubt,
to be added to this brief survey of contributory influences, but
the considerations already offered are probably sufficient to indi-
cate in part, at least, why the publication of the doctrines of
mental evolution expounded in the Descent of Man occasioned
so little psychological flutter and in many quarters awakened
so warm and enthusiastic a welcome. They also serve to ex-
plain why it is so difficult to assign with confidence the precise
contribution of Darwin's thought to current conditions in psy-
chology. Many convergent forces have been at work and the
independent effects of each are hardly to be discriminated.
Nevertheless, it is clear that Darwinism exercises a very potent
influence in psychology, not alone as regards general standpoint
and method, but also as regards certain specific doctrines.
In the matter of general method we may certainly attribute
to Darwinism the larger part of the responsibility for the change
which has brought into prominence functional and genetic psy-
chology (including animal psychology), in distinction from the
older and more conventional analytic psychology. Here again
many influences have contributed to the final outcome, but it is
fatuous to suppose that the genetic movement in psychology
could have attained its present imposing dimensions had it not
been for the inspiration of Darwin's achievements. The ana-
lytical methods will no doubt always retain a certain field of
usefulness, and an indispensable one at that, but our larger and
more significant generalizations, our more practically important
forms of control over mental life are going to issue from the
154 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
pursuit of methods in which growth, development and the influ-
ence of environment, both social and physical, will be the cardi-
nal factors, methods which will in other words apply Darwinian
principles with, let us hope, Darwin's tireless patience.
Darwin's more specific contributions to psychology may be
grouped under three main headings : (i) his doctrine of the
evolution of instinct and the part played by intelligence in the
process ; (2) the evolution of mind from the lowest animal to
the highest man ; and (3) the expressions of emotion. This is
the chronological order in which these topics were given pub-
licity by Darwin and we may properly adopt it in discussing
the problems involved.
II.
The solution of the first issue, i. <?., the genesis of instinct
and the part played by intelligence in such genesis, bears pri-
marily perhaps on the field of animal psychology, but it cer-
tainly has a very definite interest for human psychology as well.
At first blush it might seem that instinct is altogether a matter
of muscular activities and neural mechanisms and that mentality
has little or nothing to do with it. But a closer inspection of
the actual manifestations of instinct serves to disabuse one's
mind of that impression. Not only are human instincts honey-
combed with psychic influences, but even animal instincts show
themselves variable and adaptive to specific situations in ways
which hardly permit any other interpretation than that of con-
scious adjustment. Take the imperious mating instinct as an
instance. Among birds of many species there is every evidence
that despite the impelling force of impulse, the female exercises
a very definite choice in which to all appearances psychical
impressions are potent. But the question still remains whether
intelligence is a true cause in the production of instinctive acts,
or whether it merely comes in occasionally to modify them.
Herbert Spencer is cited with questionable justice as represent-
ing one extreme opinion in this matter.1 It is alleged that he
holds that instinct is simply compound reflex action and that
1 Cf . Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 256. I find it difficult to be
certain from a reading of Spencer's own statement just what position he really
holds on this matter.
INFLUENCE OP DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 155
it is always the precursor of intelligence. This is clearly the
view of many modern physiologists and naturalists, of whom
Bethe and Loeb are illustrations. From this standpoint con-
sciousness is not essential to the formation of instinct. Among
English and American writers G. H. Lewes and Cope repre-
sent the other extreme, maintaining that all instincts are origin-
ally intelligent conscious acts, from which conscious control
has largely or wholly disappeared. Some authorities like
Romanes have held that consciousness is at all times operative
in instinct and that it is precisely the presence of consciousness
which distinguishes instincts from mere reflexes. This general
view held with sundry modifications by numerous writers,
among others Wundt, is known as the ' lapsed intelligence '
theory.
Darwin l himself seems to have been less interested in the
question as to whether mind is always present in instinctive re-
actions than in the question of its relation to the origin of
instinct. His view seems to have been that instincts are in part
due to the inheritance of useful habits consciously acquired,
and in part due to the effects of natural selection operating on
chance variations in conduct. Of the two he regards natural
selection as the more important, because many instincts cannot
have been inherited habits (e. g., those of neuter insects), and
because the selection of slight variations in action through many
generations seems to him plausible by reason of the conclusive
evidence of a similar process in the evolution of structures.
Against the natural selection argument, as it pertains to the
supposed preservation of incremental variations of a useful sort,
it has been urged that in not a few instincts this is an impossible
assumption, because the whole value of the instinct depends on
the appropriate execution of each step in a long series of acts,
each one of which alone, and any group of which apart from
the others, is useless. Natural selection could only furnish an
adequate explanation provided the whole series of complex acts
sprang into existence simultaneously. To suppose that this
occurs is to assume the miraculous. Stated abstractedly this
lCf. Darwin, Origin of Species, Ch. VIII.; Romanes, Mental Evolution in
Animals, Appendix.
156 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
criticism appears forceful, but in view of our profound igno-
rance of the stages through which complex instincts have actually
passed, it seemswise to be conservative in estimating the signifi-
cance of the criticism.
It will be noted also that Darwin speaks quite explicitly of
his belief that acquired habits are transmitted. The doubt which
attaches to this doctrine in the minds of competent contemporary
zoologists is well known. Darwin quotes as illustrating his
point the alleged acquirement of fear of man by birds in certain
of the oceanic islands remote from the mainland subsequent to
the coming of men and the pursuit of hunting. Certain cases
of alleged transmission of characteristics as a result of mental
training among dogs appear also to have weighed heavily in
his mind.
If such acquirements are transmitted by heredity, then it
must be admitted that this factor, together with the natural
selection of such instinctive variations as arise naturally and
after the manner of structural variations, would no doubt largely
account for the phenomena with which we are familiar. But
as we have just pointed out, difficulties beset both parts of this
program.
A compromise view which is put forward with the joint
authority of Morgan, Osborn and Baldwin,1 under the title
* organic selection,' maintains that consciously acquired habits
are probably not directly transmitted, but that consciousness
plays an indispensable part in the drama by enabling successive
generations of creatures to accommodate themselves to the vicis-
situdes of life while the slow changes are taking place which
finally issue in the completed instinct. Not only is conscious-
ness operative in this way, but in all the higher forms of animal
life it is held that conscious imitative activities also play a part,
and with man a dominant part, in setting the racial pattern.
Natural selection serves to lop off the feeble and incompetent,
both among individuals and groups, while all this process is
going forward, but the successful issue is fundamentally depend-
ent on conscious reactions during the critical formative stages.
In the midst of uncertainty and speculative ingenuity such
1 Cf. Baldwin, Development and Evolution, especially Appendices A and B.
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 157
as this, many minds will look with hope and a certain relief on
the efforts of a group of zoologists and physiologists — illus-
trated by Jennings and Loeb — who have made persistent and
in no small measure successful attempts to modify instinctive
behavior by experimental methods, thus securing at once some
rudimentary insight into the mechanics of the instincts, instead
of waiting for nature to reveal her secrets at her pleasure. In \
the lower organisms where such experimental control is most
feasible, already the dependence of certain forms of instinctive
behavior on conditions of temperature, light and oxygenation
has been demonstrated and it hardly seems unduly optimistic to
hope that through such means we shall ere long be able to sub-
stitute for speculative theories on the modus operandi of instinc-
tive behavior something more nearly resembling knowledge.
At present we can only say that we know with reasonable cer-
tainty that many instinctive acts are accompanied by conscious-
ness, that practically all of them are variable within limits, that
some of them appear to be modified by conscious forces, that
possibly consciousness has played a part in the formation of some
of them as it seemingly plays a part in their actual workings,
that natural selection would certainly account for many instincts
and perhaps for all.
We come now to consider Darwin's view of mental evolution.
III.
Darwin l held that the mind of civilized man is a direct out-
growth of the animal mind. He maintained that from the
lowest animal upward we find evidence of mental processes
which increase in range and power, but do not change in kind,
until we meet their most complete expressions in man. In man
himself he finds again no evidence of aught but continuity of
development from the lowest savage to the highest genius.
Darwin not only teaches the continuity of mental evolution
from the lowest to the highest forms of animal life, he also urges
the value of mental factors in the operation of both natural and
sexual selection. Men and animals alike that were alert and
intelligent in their adaptive acts would enjoy a larger chance of
1 Cf. Darwin, TTie Descent of Man, Chapters III. to V.
158 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
life and leave behind them a more numerous posterity. In
those orders of animals where the female exercises selective
control in the choice of a mate, he urges, as has already been
indicated, that psychical factors enter in an important degree to
determine the feminine preference.
His survey of mental characteristics on which these doctrines
are based is somewhat naive. The psychic qualities which he
cites as a foundation for his statements are as follows : sensa-
tions, pleasure, pain, passions, emotions (terror, suspicion, fear,
anger, courage, timidity, love, jealousy, emulation, sense of
humor, wonder, curiosity), imitation, attention, memory, imag-
ination (whose presence in animals he regards as proved by be-
havior indicating dreams), and reason, which in animals, he
says, is closely allied with instinct. These categories are all
taken quite simply and with no special effort to indicate pre-
cisely what may be meant by them. He contents himself by
citing illustrations of animal behavior, which seem to him to in-
dicate the presence of these several mental attributes.
He undertakes to fortify his general position by a refutation
of the several stock arguments commonly advanced to support
belief in the radical distinction between animals and man. Of
these we may pause to mention only a few.
He meets the assertion that animals make no use of tools by
citing the case of the chimpanzee who is said to use stones to
open nuts, and by the case of the elephant who uses branches
to protect himself from the assaults of flies. He might have
cited many other similar cases, but it is to be observed that he
makes no very satisfactory attempt to meet the further points
that animals do not fashion utensils and that they do not use
fire. For the present generation, however, this type of con-
sideration has somewhat lost interest. He believes the opinion
that animals do not form concepts and that they are incapable
of making abstractions is not well founded. He cites as an
instance of the appreciation by animals of something akin to an
abstract idea, the attitude which a dog will assume in response
to the exciting question, " Where is it?" The simple-minded-
ness of this conclusion must inevitably furnish amusement to the
sophisticated animal psychologists of the present day. On the
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 159
matter of language he occupies a position distinctly favorable
to the possession of rudimentary language forms by animals. He
cites the fact that many animals have calls expressive of emotion,
and these calls he regards as essentially linguistic. He also
mentions the use by parrots of significant words as a case demon-
strating his contentions. Again, the sense of beauty has been
held to be a purely human attribute. But this view Darwin feels
is definitely controverted by the fondness which certain animals
display, especially birds, for colors and plumage. The pos-
session of conscience and the belief in God have frequently
been urged as the sole possessions of humanity. To this asser-
tion Darwin replies that the belief in God is not universal among
human beings and hence not generically human, and the actions
of many animals, notably dogs, indicate something closely akin
to the feelings of conscience. To the contemporary psychol-
ogist all this squnds highly archaic and scientifically anachron-
istic and so no doubt it is. But in view of Darwin's extensive
innocence of psychology, it represents, as he marshals his facts,
an amazing range of original observation and a most intrepid
mind.
In the last analysis, despite the statements of the preceding
paragraph, Darwin regards the development of conscience, or
the moral sense, as by far the most important practical distinc-
tion of man from the animals. He says, however, that any
animal endowed with well-marked social instincts, such as the
parental or filial affections, would develop man's conscience as
soon as he developed man's intellectual capacity, or even ap-
proximated it. The social and gregarious habits of many ani-
mals obviously furnish an excellent point of departure for such
a development. Moreover, sympathy, which plays an im-
portant part in all moral evolution, seems to be manifested by
certain animals. There is therefore no evidence anywhere for
radical differences between man and the animals.
It may be of interest to remark certain typical divergences
from this general position in which, however, Darwin has found
not a few loyal followers. Indeed, at the present time it is un-
doubtedly the case that most psychologists share Darwin's main
convictions as to the continuity of mental evolution from animal
160 JAMBS ROWLAND ANGELL.
to man, less perhaps as a result of careful scrutiny of the facts
than as a consequence of a powerful drift from every direction
toward the belief in a common origin for human and animal
characteristics. We feel more comfortable nowadays in a world
where simple and uniform rules obtain.
Probably the most persistent and most substantial point of
dissent from Darwin is represented by writers who like Mivart 1
hold that although men and animals have certain forms of con-
scious life in common, for instance, sentience and memory, man
alone can frame true concepts, and man alone can use true
signs, can create and use language. Only man has ideas.
Whereas we find essential continuity from the lowest to the
highest of bodily forms, in mental processes we meet a real
break, separating the human and spiritual, from the merely
sentient vand brute.
This type of view has always commended itself to a certain
stripe of religious belief, because of its seeming provision for a
somewhat super-naturalistic element in man, and its protest
against regarding him, or at least his ancestry, as substantially
on a level with the beasts of the field.
Moreover, it can summon to its support not a little apparently
valid evidence wherein alleged instances of the animal use of
language and signs are shown capable of another and more
rudimentary interpretation. We are, of course, unable to
intrude upon the inner workings of the animal consciousness,
and it must be confessed that in so far as we judge by external
conduct, few, if any, of the instances adduced to prove the
formation by animals of concepts or of language really furnish
unequivocal evidence of the thing to be proved. Meantime, it
should be clearly recognized that this position, as advanced by
Mivart at least, does not rest for its severance of man from
the animals simply on the classical contention that he has a soul
while they possess only minds. It is a distinction in the field of
mind itself, which is here emphasized, an ascription to man, as
his unique possession, of capacities which constitute the higher
stages of cognitive activities.
Another divergent line is represented by the celebrated
1 Cf. Mivart, The Origin of Human Reason.
INFLUENCE OF DAK WIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 161
naturalist Wallace,1 who shares with Darwin a part of the credit
for that revolution of opinion in the scientific world which gen-
erally is characterized with Darwin's name. Wallace is appar-
ently willing to grant as a mere hypothesis that man's mind has
developed part passu with man's body, but he absolutely
refuses to admit that natural selection could have brought this
result to pass. He calls attention to three great familiar
instances of alleged discontinuity in nature as suggesting that
we should be scientifically hospitable to the idea of discontinuity.
First, there is the breach between the organic and the inorganic,
a breach which seems daily to shrink, but which has not yet
been over-spanned. Then there is the equally marvellous break
between the organic and the sentient, the conscious. And fin-
ally there is the break between mere sentience and rational intel-
ligence— the distinction upon which Mivart dwelt so insistently.
Wallace cannot seriously call in question the possibility that
natural selection should affect such mental qualities as quickness
of eye and ear, accuracy of memory of former dangers and the
like. It is the higher more definitely human qualities which
apparently afford him foundation for his position. For example,
what he calls the ' mathematical faculty ' and the * faculty for
music ' seem to him too remote from the life-subserving functions
to have had any survival value, and unless they have such
value, his position must be granted as having force against natu-
ral selection. On such grounds, in any case, he rests his con-
tention that there is in man a spiritual essence not inherited from
his animal forbears to whom he owes his bodily structure. By
virtue of this essence human progress is possible and a spiritual
life beyond the grave assured, for spirit cannot perish.
In reading Wallace one feels the presence of a vein of mys-
ticism and the impelling influence of religious pre-possessions
. . . influences which may properly be given a hearing, but
which must not be treated as standing on the same logical level
with ordinary empirical evidence. Whether natural selection
can reasonably explain mental development in its higher ranges,
is however, a perfectly fair question and one which deserves,
and from ethical writers at least has often received, serious
consideration.
1 Cf. Wallace, Darwinism, Ch. XV.
162 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
It seems perfectly clear that certain familiar intellectual and
emotional endowments would have had a very positive survival
value both among animals and men. Those individuals who
were mentally quick and inventive, who were courageous, cun-
ning and pushing, would certainly be at an advantage over
those who failed in these characteristics. Other things equal,
the latter would live shorter lives and leave fewer progeny.
When one takes into account the conditions of life under gre-
garious or social circumstances, one sees clearly how in a group
the social virtues of sympathy, bravery, self-sacrifice, etc., may
condition the dominance of the group over competing groups
and consequently how a survival value may attach to these men-
tal and moral characteristics. All this is familiar and trite and
probably true. But what is to be said of Wallace's case as it
concerns mathematical, philosophical and musical capacities, to
the possessors of which men have customarily paid large
respect? Wherein do such characteristics display a survival
value, and if they have none such, how can natural selection
account for their preservation and cultivation?
The reply? I believe, is quite in keeping with the reply as to
the survival value of sympathy and pity and self-sacrificing
bravery. In course of mental evolution, no doubt many charac-
teristics are developed which are either harmful or useless. The
congenitally insane illustrate the appearance of harmful forms.
Other forms appear which may be useless or even harmful to
the occasional individual, but to the group as a whole they are
highly valuable and by virtue of this fact they secure perpetuity,
either by social imitation, or by direct heredity. Now we have
only to assume the appearance of a mental strain which has such
social value, to expect with certainty that it will be encouraged
in most of those who possess it markedly. Music and mathe-
matics and philosophy do not represent such highly occasional
mental sports as Mr. Wallace implies. A respectable amount
of each of these capacities is latent in all normal individuals.
Propitious surroundings are not always at hand and other more
seductive interests often secure the field in advance, so that these
capacities remain latent and undeveloped. But nothing is more
certain than this, that if society did not at least consider itself
INFLUENCE OP DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 163
benefited by the cultivation of these tastes, they would speedily
disappear along with the taste for collecting scalps and
wampum.
In other words, Mr. Wallace and others of his way of
thinking take their natural selection too narrrowly when they
come to the higher ranges of mental life. They forget the
social pressure which is there exercised, not to create but to de-
velop certain capacities.
Still another view which not only accepts but magnifies dis-
continuity in natural phenomena is conceived not in the interests
of any idealistic metaphysical or religious tenets, but rather in
frank hostility to such. This is the view typified by Loeb,1 who
believes that many of the lower organisms have no conscious-
ness at all. This is a view which in more sweeping form Des-
cartes long ago made famous, though on grounds quite different
from those of Loeb. For Loeb, man's mind is a natural
product of the evolution of animal mind, but animal mind itself
begins not necessarily in the protozoa, but presumably at a rela-
tively advanced point among the metazoa, at a point, namely,
where we find creatures able to profit by experience, able to
learn.
Accepting the analogy of many chemical phenomena in
which a critical stage is represented, before and after which the
resulting phenomena are apparently entirely discontinuous (<?. g.t
the formation of liquid from gas under given conditions of tem-
perature and pressure) he urges that until precisely the correct
molecular conditions are represented in the protoplasm of the
nervous system, no consciousness will appear. But the moment
these conditions are given, mind will also be present. It is not
necessary to assume mind, or associative memory, as he prefers
to call it, wherever we find a nervous system, much less
wherever we find protoplasm in a living state. We have a
right to allege the presence of mind only when the actions of an
organism indicate its presence, and our only criterion for this
presence is, as was above stated, the capacity to learn by experi-
ence, to improve the reactions made to stimuli.
The difficulty with this criterion is practical, not theoretical.
1 Cf. Loeb, Physiology of the Brain, particularly pages 213 flf.
164 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
If one could always say with assurance that animals can or can
not learn, the task would be easy. Unhappily such is not the
case. Some animals learn to better a reaction after a few
attempts, others require dozens -of trials. Even the frog, whose
intellectual capacities were once regarded as nil, has now been
proved capable, under the advantages of higher education, of
making some progress, but it is a progress which taxes both
pupil and teacher, for it may require hundreds of experiences to
improve even a very simple reaction. The criterion proposed,
while theoretically admirable, leaves us as a matter of fact in
much the position we occupied before, i. £., inability confidently
to allege that any living creature is wholly lacking in mind.
Even the lowly amoeba manifests certain peculiarities of action
which may betoken consciousness of a low order.
An examination of these variants on the Darwinian view of
continuity in mental development leads one to feel that the
balance of probability distinctly favors the original formulation.
Not only does modern psychology disclaim in man at least any
such sharp lines between conceptual thought and the lower
levels of sentient mental life, as Mivart and Wallace postulate,
it has on the contrary expended no little effort in analyzing and
defending the presence of -just these conceptual processes in the
sensory and perceptual activities of mind. Binet's l essay on the
psychology of reasoning is a typical example of this tendency,
exhibiting as it does the implicit reasoning process involved in
every definite perception. To perceive that this object before me
is a desk, involves identifying this present visual experience with
antecedent visual experiences in a way which closely resembles
certain phases of the process in syllogistic inference. Nor has
this tendency in psychology been in any way influenced by
partisan Darwinian prepossessions, so far as I know. It has
been the inevitable outcome of penetrating analysis. The use
of conscious meanings does not suddenly burst forth full-blown
in a mind which before had given no indication of such an
achievement. The simplest mental acts which as human beings
we can detect in ourselves have some increment, however small,
of this consciousness of meaning, this embryonic form of con-
1 Binet, La Psychologic du Raisonnement.
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 165
ceptual thought. Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that
animals have certainly not been as yet proved to reason in
human ways. On this score Mivart and his cohorts must be
given their dues.
Nor is the dividing line which Loeb has proposed likely to
result in any radical alterations in the general Darwinian posi-
tion. For not only do we find it difficult to use the criterion
Loeb offers, /. e.t educability, but in point of fact we have con-
siderable evidence at hand to show that even the lowest animal
forms modify their behavior somewhat to meet changed condi-
tions, and that these modifications are of a kind which in higher
animals would be regarded as indicative of the presence of con-
sciousness.
IV.
This brings us to the work on emotion. In his treatise on
The Expression of the Emotions Darwin has brought together
with characteristic patience and industry the most extended array
of observations bearing on the subject, an array which has been
of notable value to the defenders of the James-Lange theory of
emotion. As finally put forth the work is a defense of three
familiar theses concerning emotional expressions. The first
holds that serviceable bodily reactions become habitual and
become associated with the state of mind in connection with
which they arose. When the mental state recurs, the bodily
reactions recur also, although they may long since have lost
any immediate and obvious utility. The clenching of the fist
and the showing of the teeth in anger illustrate this conception.
The second thesis, that of antithetic action, maintains that a
state of mind opposed to one calling out a definite bodily
attitude may evoke an opposite bodily attitude. As an illustra-
tion may be cited the fact that an angry cat naturally lashes its
tail from side to side. On the other hand a cat which is
pleased carries its tail erect and stiff. The third thesis, that of
nervous overflow, holds that apart from the two previous prin-
ciples of explanation, conditions of emotional excitement are
prone to release more cortical energy than can be effectively
disposed of in the usual ways, and the superfluity pours out in
muscular contractions of the most various kinds.
1 66 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
So far as concerns the adequacy of these explanatory hypoth-
eses, it may be said that in the light of our present knowledge
the first affords a highly probable account of certain emotional
reactions, while it is quite inadequate satisfactorily to explain
others. The second hypothesis has always been viewed ask-
ance, as something of a scientific tour deforce, while the third,
which Darwin himself treats rather as a catch-all to take care
of cases found bothersome to handle by his first two hypotheses,
is probably of much more fundamental import than he imagined.
In any event later writers have been unable to improve materi-
ally upon Darwin"s catalogue of the causative influences pro-
vocative of our emotional attitudes.
V.
In conclusion we may venture a brief comment upon the
methods now current in the study of evolving mind and more
particularly upon the methods and points of view now dominant
in animal psychology. A few words may also be added upon
a group of problems suggested by Darwin's work.
The most marked and unmistakable change which we
notice in method is the somewhat aggressive skepticism now
everywhere entertained for the anecdotal foundation on which
many of the early zoological doctrines about animals were
based. Darwin himself quotes numerous tales to substantiate
his positions and his disciples have far outdone the master.
This condition of things has led not unnaturally to a reaction
in favor of laboratory experiments and observations under con-
ditions of control. To this procedure there is never lacking
acrimonious protest on the part of those who hold that only
under the conditions of nature can the intimate facts of animal
life be seen and understood. No doubt there is a large measure
of justice in this protest. But fortunately it is now possible in
many of our laboratories and zoological stations to simulate
with large success the conditions of life which are natural to-
many animal forms. The result has been a wealth of new
material which promises quite to revolutionize many phases of
animal lore. It seems not unreasonable to anticipate that the
effect of such work will not only be felt in the direct increase
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 167
of our reliable information gained through these channels, but
also that the observation of animals in a state of nature will be
rendered far more intelligent and precise by virtue of the sug-
gestions which will be gained from work of this type. Cer-
tainly such work has already brought us new and more exact-
ing standards of accuracy and taught us an invaluable caution
and conservatism both in inference and in generalization.
Conspicuous among the many interesting psychological
problems suggested by Darwin's work is that of the determina-
tion of mental types, species and genera, following rudely the
analogy of species and genera in zoology. The practical dif-
ficulty in defining a species need occasion us no concern, be-
cause the idea of species has had great value, despite the per-
plexities attached to the satisfactory differentiations of particu-
lar classes. If the type of intelligence manifested by an animal
be contingent upon the structure of its nervous system, as is
apparently the case, it would seem to follow as a reasonable
inference, that we might expect to find groups of animals evinc-
ing in their behavior psychic characteristics of a similar pattern,
just as we find forms of nervous system highly similar to one
another. It is of course conceivable that in different animals
different nervous structures should function to produce similar
psychic behavior. But even recognizing this possibility, it still
ought to be feasible to group creatures together as belonging
to various great psychical type-forms.
At present the common divisions follow other lines. Ani-
mals which belong to the same family, e. g.t the dogs, are
thought of as resembling one another in general mental pattern
and as differing from other animals partly in their instincts, but
partly also in their capacity to learn non-instinctive reactions.
This practical view of the matter leaves us with as many main
patterns as there are genera and with no explicit and tangible
description of any one. The other line of demarcation consists
in cross-sectioning such a division as the preceding by dis-
tinguishing between such psychical characters as sentience,
memory and reason, ascribing all these attributes to the higher
creatures and denying one or another to the lower creatures.
Amoeba may be thought to have sentience, but not reason and
1 68 JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL.
only dubiously memory. The pigeon has sentience and mem-
ory, but probably not reason, whereas men and possibly some
of the higher animals have all three capacities.
Obviously neither of these modes of classification affords us
any real insight into psychic types. If Darwin's fertile investi-
gations are to bear fruit in this direction in psychology, we must
be able to portray the entire range of mental processes belong-
ing to the great divisions of animal life, to show where and how
these dividing lines part company with those which now bind
animal forms together on structural lines. For ordinary zoolog-
ical purposes the dog and the elephant have little in common
except their mammalian hall-mark. But in their psychic types
they may be very similar.
Such types may clearly be grouped around various central
factors. Animals in which the so-called ' distance receptors '
(auditory, visual, olfactory) are well-developed, may present a
pattern with the psychic life all grouped about these processes.
In other animals the ' contact and proprio-ceptive ' organs may
be the centers of psychic life and in consequence give rise to
quite another mental pattern. In one or in both, the psychic
operations may be of the most rudimentary and immediate sort,
or they may, on the other hand, involve processes comparable
with the simpler forms of human inference. The patterns may
vary again in dependence upon the relatively large or relatively
small amount of purely instinctive and reflex activity. They
may vary with the phylogenetic antiquity of the form, newer
types being more plastic than older ones. Many other princi-
ples of grouping will readily suggest themselves.
At the present moment we have the beginnings, but only the
beginnings, of the necessary data for the solution of this gen-
eral problem. We have learned, for example, that the mere
presence of a sense organ does not argue such a use of it as
casual inspection would suggest, much less such as is suggested
by the analogy of human sense perception. We have accord-
ingly learned caution in assuming that the sensory activities of
animals involve the sort of consciousness which we know in
ourselves. Indeed our whole tendency now-a-days is to recog-
nize and frankly admit, that inasmuch as we must infer the
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PSYCHOLOGY. 169
psychic operations of animals wholly in terms of their behavior,
we are under peculiar obligation to interpret their activities in
the most conservative possible way. We know that the « try-
try-again, method ' is the one commonly used by animals in
solving laboratory problems. But we are for the most part pro-
foundly ignorant as to just what occurs when progress is actually
made, what sensory avenues are most important for giving
information and how far the counterparts of human inference
may at times be present. To secure these and dozens of other
items of information needful for the execution of the program
proposed will require long years of patient labor. Neverthe-
less, until this work is done, we shall remain powerless to de-
scribe the great stages of developing mind. The task is
eminently worth while and is certain to be accomplished. Only
when it is accomplished will it really be possible to entertain
an intelligent judgment concerning the fundamental contentions
of Darwinism concerning the evolution of mind.
DARWIN AND LOGIC.
BY PROFESSOR J. E. CREIGHTON,
Cornell University,
In attempting to estimate the influence of Darwin's thought
in different fields of inquiry, it is advantageous to distinguish
between the direct and the indirect results of the conceptions
which he introduced. By direct results, I mean primarily the
effect of the conception of natural selection, as an explanation
of the formation of species, upon the problems and methods of
the biological sciences. And, as all the characters and func-
tions of living beings, mental as well as physical, are subject-
matter of biology, the explanation of the mental endowments
and characteristics of man and the lower animals through the
principle of natural selection may be included under the same
heading. This can be done the more readily because of Dar-
win's own employment of the principle to explain, not only the
instincts and emotions of living organisms, but also to some ex-
tent the intellectual and moral endowments of the most highly
evolved animal. Indirect consequences are always difficult to
trace in detail. From the standpoint of science, the most obvious
and important indirect result of Darwin's discovery is the
confidence which it furnished in the fruitfulness of the method
of tracing origins in all fields of inquiry. In the process of
becoming, Darwin's procedure showed, things progressively
define and specify themselves through their positive and negative
relations to other things. In the impetus thus given to the
evolutionary method, there was strengthened and extended the
influence of an instrument of analysis whose full power and
significance has scarcely yet been realized.
It is only a commonplace to say that the publication of the
Origin of Species revolutionized biology. For this work trans-
formed the evolutionary hypothesis of the gradual formation of
biological species from an a -priori speculation, which was
scarcely if at all influencing workers in this field, into an estab-
170
DARWIN AND LOGIC. 171
lished and fruitful principle of explanation. Thus in a marvel-
ously short time the stone which the builders had rejected be-
came the head of the corner. Important and far-reaching as
this result is in itself, it is the wider application of the evolution-
ary conception, which Darwin may thus be said to have called
into existence as a working principle of natural science, that
gives to his discovery its main interest and significance. " If
we may estimate the importance of an idea by the change of
thought which it effects," says Romanes, " this idea of natu-
ral selection is unquestionably the most important idea that has
ever been conceived by the mind of man." l In his enthusiastic
estimate of natural selection, Romanes, of course, assumes that
it was this principle alone which made possible an intelligible
and workable theory of evolution. After showing how little
scientific thought had really been influenced by the earlier evolu-
tionary hypotheses, he continues : "It was the theory of natural
selection that changed all this, and created a revolution in the
thought of our time, the magnitude of which in many of its far-
reaching consequences we are not yet in a position to appreciate,
but the action of which has already wrought a transformation in
general philosophy, as well as in the more special science of
biology, that is without a parallel in the history of mankind." :
In general philosophy and in the historical and social
sciences, the notion of development and the evolutionary method
of investigation had made their influence felt long before Dar-
win's discovery of natural selection had rendered their applica-
tion fruitful in biology. From the time of Leibniz the notion
of a continuous development had been familiar to philosophers.
It exerted little influence, however, until the second half of the
eighteenth century, when it appears both as an hypothesis in biol-
ogy and as an interpretation of the spiritual history of the human
race. In biology, as we have seen, it remained without practical
effect because its factors or definite mode of procedure had not yet
been discovered. But in its application to history, the method
made its way through the influence of Lessing, Herder, Schlegel
and Kant, and finally became, one may say, the main motive of
1 Darwin, and after Darwin (1901), Vol. I., p. 256.
1 Ibid., p. 259.
172 /. E. CREIGHTON.
post-Kantian idealism. In Hegel, the notion of Entwicklung
is, even more explicitly than in Fichte and Schelling, the guiding
method and explanatory principle. In his Logic, an attempt
was made to exhibit the laws of the evolutionary process in
their complete universality — to give in general terms that are
applicable within the whole range of experience something
analogous to what Darwin afterwards furnished in the special
field of biology, a demonstration of the stages and working
principles of the movement. Hegel's philosophy influenced
historical study very greatly ; especially, it gave an extraordi-
nary interest to investigations into the thought systems, language,
customs, and institutions of human society. The same funda-
mental motive, though limited in various ways by special inter-
ests and arbitrary assumptions, shows itself in the work of
Comte. In England, as is well known, Herbert Spencer had
recognized the significance of the evolutionary principle and
begun to work out its ethical and social consequences before the
appearance of Darwin's great work. Even J. S. Mill — as I
think is evident both from his logical and ethical writings — was
influenced by organic conceptions, which he probably learned
mainly from Coleridge and Comte, and was thus led to attach
a much greater importance to the historical and social sciences
than had his immediate predecessors.
In philosophy, then, and in the field of the humanistic
sciences, it is evident that the application of the doctrine of
evolution had not to wait for the discovery of the principle of
natural selection. It might therefore be inferred that in these
departments of knowledge the principle has no application, or
is at least of subordinate importance. Whatever conclusions
we may later reach regarding the direct applicability of the con-
ception of natural selection to the humanistic fields of inquiry, it
is necessary to recognize that, indirectly at least, these subjects
were stirred into new life by the influence of Darwin's thought.
For though, as we have seen, the concept of evolution was al-
ready being employed by workers in these fields, its influence
was extending very slowly. It lacked definite and concrete
formulation, and hence had never fully come to its own. Few
even of those who were applying the principle at that time
DARWIN AND LOGIC. 173
firmly grasped its significance, or realized clearly its trans-
forming power. Hegel's unbounded confidence in his method,
which has often been regarded as presumptuous, is really con-
fidence in the validity and efficacy of his conception of develop-
ment ; and the Logic is his attempt to fully define and exhibit in
detail, in the most universal terms of experience, the nature of
that principle. But Hegel's detailed working out of the method
of evolution was not generally understood, and exerted little
influence on the succeeding generation. This was due partly
to the artificial form which he gave to his exposition, and
partly to his inability, through lack of material, to base his re-
sults upon the facts of the physical sciences and of psychology.
His conclusions were indeed derived from a wide survey of
facts, but these facts belonged to the inner life of man and
society ; and thus, as not directly given to sense perception,
they were too remote from ordinary experience to appear con-
crete and impressive.
Darwin's formulation of the evolutionary doctrine, on the
other hand, rested on observations of the commonest facts of
daily life. It drew its support from the experience of the
breeder of domesticated plants and animals. Moreover, it pro-
vided a definite working mechanism for the evolutionary process
that rendered its operation conceivable in scientific terms. But
these facts do not in themselves explain the extraordinary influ-
ence which Darwin's conceptions quickly came to exert outside
of the field of biology. There can be no doubt that this was
primarily due to the fact that Darwin himself showed that his
theory definitely linked man to the lower animals ; and this
consequence was further emphasized and enforced by able dis-
ciples like Haeckel and Huxley. Not only did the proof of the
4 descent of man ' rouse popular interest and give rise to theo-
logical controversy, but it tended to break down the wall of
partition between the humanistic sciences and biology. The
success of the evolutionary method in biology brought fresh
courage and renewed confidence in the fruitfulness of their
method to the humanistic sciences that were already employing
evolutionary conceptions. But this is not the only effect that
Darwinism has produced in these fields. The place which the
174 J E. CREIGHTON.
doctrine assigns to man as a member of the biological series
seems to demand that the biological evolutionary conceptions
shall be used to interpret all the phases and manifestations of
human life, mental as well as physical.
The immediate problem of this paper has to do with the in-
fluence of Darwin's discovery on Logic. What I have said of
the indirect influences of Darwinism has, of course, its applica-
tion to logic, as will appear from time to time in our discussion.
We may ask, however, at the outset, how far has the principle
of natural selection * furnished guidance ' in the attempts to
explain the development of thought and the structure of knowl-
edge? As we have already seen, Hegel's treatment of logic
is distinctly evolutionary, as is also that of other idealistic writers,
the so-called neo-Hegelians who work with the same general
conceptions which he employed. We will, accordingly, ask in
what ways this older conception of logical evolution has been
modified by Darwinian conceptions, and attempt in a summary
fashion to furnish an estimate of the value of these modifications
from the standpoint of logical theory.
Darwin's great service to biology consisted in his statement
of the working factors of evolution. He was the first to give a
' sufficient reason ' for the transformation of species by pointing
to the natural causes which are continuously in operation. The
modus operandt of biological evolution is given in the concep-
tions of variation, natural selection (including sexual selection),
and heredity. It is an observable fact, says Romanes, "that
in every generation of every species a great many more indi-
viduals are born than can possibly survive ; so that there is
in consequence a perpetual battle for life going on among all
of the constituent individuals of any given generation. Now,
in this struggle for existence, which individuals will be victori-
ous and live? Assuredly those which are best fitted to live, in
whatever respect, or respects, their superiority of fitness may
consist. Hence it follows that Nature, so to speak, selects the
best individuals out of each generation to live. And not only
so ; but as these favored individuals transmit their favorable
qualities to their offspring according to the fixed laws of hered-
D AR WIN AND LOGIC. 175
ity, it further follows that the individuals composing each suc-
cessive generation have a general tendency to be better suited
to their surroundings than were their forefathers." ! Darwinian
evolution thus results in a continuous adaptation of the species
to its environment through the elimination of the unfit and the
accumulation of favorable characteristics through heredity.
Hence natural selection, taken in combination with variation
and heredity, is able to explain, not only specific and individual
forms regarded as wholes, but also the special constituent char-
acters and functions of the species that have survived. And,
as the living organism is psychical as well as physical, these
principles apply directly to the mental life of all animals, includ-
ing, of course, that of man.
It is natural, then, that biologists, viewing man as a member
of the biological kingdom, should extend the principles of their
science so as to include within their range all the forms and
functions of experience. Darwin's treatment of the instincts and
the emotions opened the way to important results in psychol-
ogy ; and the functional view of psychology, which regards the
mind as an organic function whose origin and modifications
are to be explained in biological terms, is only following in the
path which he marked out. But Darwin goes further, and,
like some of his successors, seems to suppose that these princi-
ples of functional psychology or biology are adequate to ex-
plain all forms of experience. "Although perhaps nowhere
distinctly formulated," says Alfred Russell Wallace, " his whole
argument tends to the conclusion that man's entire nature and
all his faculties, whether intellectual, moral, or spiritual have
been derived from their rudiments in the lower animals, in the
same manner and by the action of the same general laws as his
physical structure has been derived."2
Now, it was not in accordance with Darwin's purpose to work
out the detailed application of his principles to the mental life in
the form of psychology, or ethics, or logic ; and he recognized
1 Romanes, op. cit., Vol. I., pp. 259-260.
1 Darwinism, 2d ed. (1889), p. 461. The author continues : " As this con-
clusion appears to me to be supported by inadequate evidence, and to be directly
opposed to many well-ascertained facts, I propose to devote a brief space to its
discussion."
176 /. B. CREIGHTON.
that he had no special equipment for such investigations. He
contents himself, therefore, with indicating the standpoint and
material of such inquiries, giving details only when his own
observations and reflections enabled him to call attention to new
facts. His treatment of logical functions and judgments is
much less extensive than his discussion of moral experience,
though the suggestion which he makes in Chapter V. of the
Descent of Man regarding the function of imitation has led to
important results in logic, as well as in other fields. And
further than Darwin, so far as my knowledge extends, no biol-
ogist has gone in explaining logical forms of experience. But
the biological point of view necessarily explains the forms and
categories of thought, the very nature of reason itself, as func-
tions of the living being that are to be explained by the gen-
eral laws of biological evolution. The carrying out of this
program, however, Darwin rightly leaves to the psychologist
and the logician.
Now, I cannot see why any objection should be raised to the
biological method of explaining experience, so long as this is not
taken for philosophy. Logical thinking and moral action,
whatever they may be in addition, are from one point of view,
modes of living, and as such undoubtedly prove of advantage to
the organisms which are characterized by them. If the objec-
tion be raised that this standpoint fails to exhibit what is essen-
tial in these experiences, the reply is, I think, that philosophy
cannot afford to ignore any genuine aspect of experience, and that
what we may choose to call merely * external relations ' cannot be
devoid of philosophical significance. This much at least is true :
that the unitary view of the psycho-physical organism and its
activities, which biology has emphasized, is a good antidote to
the abstracting tendencies of both physical and mental science.
The objection to the biological interpretation of logic, and
of experience generally, holds only when it is put forward as
philosophy. The limitation of these accounts of experience
does not consist in their lack of details — the details may be
worked out in time — but is a limitation of principle. They
simply do not raise the logical problem, or give any account of
the values that are operative within experience as experience.
DARWIN AND LOGIC. 177
They look upon experience from the standpoint of an external
observer, and hence can deal only with objects and the external
relations of objects. But, though mentality is a life function, as
experience it is internal or for itself. And this is equivalent to
saying that it is now constituted by new functions implying new
ends in the light of which it must be understood. To under-
stand experience as experience, which is the special business of
philosophy as distinguished from natural science, is to interpret
its various developing stages in the light of the system of ends
which is being realized. For logic, then, thinking is not rightly
construed as adjustment to the environment, whether physical
or social. External terms like < adjustment' and « environment '
are misleading metaphors as descriptions of logical results and
relations. Of course, the thinking of the individual grows out
of life. But, as in the case of the state, which Aristotle remarks
originates in life but is for the good life, we may say that cog-
nition has a natural origin but is for the sake of truth and
consistency.
Moreover, in logical experience the opposition between
organism and environment, which is essential to biological evo-
lution, has become transformed into the distinction between
subject and object. This distinction falls within experience
and is not a relation between experience and something external
to it. Thinking, therefore, cannot be externally determined ;
it is a self-determining process whose ' developmental factors '
are organic to the process itself. The moving principle of the
whole is just the nature of thought itself regarded as a demand
for completeness and consistency of experience. It is this im-
manent principle of reason or intelligence which, as the presup-
position of all experience^ is thereby presupposed in all science.
Of course, the thinking experience from this point of view is no
longer a function of an organism, a mode of experiencing over
against the experiencing of other psychic individuals. As log-
ical thinking, it is objective and social — the medium in which
we are shut together with persons as well as with things.
This will be recognized as in general outline identical with
Hegel's conception of the logical standpoint. It is in this
sense that he speaks of ' absolute thinking ' and * absolute ex-
178 /. E. CREIGHTON.
perience ' — a mode of expression which has proved to many a
stone of stumbling and a rock of offense.
Dissatisfaction with the standpoint and procedure of this
idealist logic is, however, expressed in different quarters by
writers whose main work lies within the field of psychology and
philosophy, and in some of these writers the influence of biolog-
ical conceptions is more or less directly evident. What is re-
garded as lacking in the logic of Hegel and his followers
is : first, an account of the development of knowledge from the
point of view of individual experience ; and secondly, a de-
tailed working out in concrete terms of the psychological motives
and processes through which logical results are obtained. To
overcome these defects and base logic upon psychology seems
to be the program of the majority of recent writers on Erkennt-
nistheorie, in Germany, though in that country a controversy is
still going on between the advocates of the * pure ' and the
' psychological ' logic. The influence of biological conceptions
is perhaps most clearly evident in Avenarius and Mach. In-
deed, the latter might be perhaps fairly classified as ' Darwinian '
in his general view of the origin and function of thinking,
though his account of experience is given in terms of Hume's
analysis.1
It is obvious that a complete account which should attempt
to trace both the direct and indirect effect on logic of Darwin's
contribution would extend far beyond the limits of this paper.
I should like, however, to refer to the influence which this
* scientific ' view of evolution appears to have exerted on the
treatment of logical problems by certain contemporary writers
in this country. This influence is manifest, I think, in many of
the papers contained in the Chicago Studies in Logical Theory,
and in various contributions to periodical literature by the same
writers. It has perhaps also furnished the main inspiration for
Professor Baldwin's work on logic. Though there are some
important differences between Professor Baldwin's views and
1 Simmers name should also be mentioned in this connection. The appli-
cation of Darwin's principles to logical questions is evident in his articles,
' Pense"e th£orique et int£ret pratique,' Revue de Metaph., IV., pp. 160-178,
and 'Ueber eine Beziehung der Selectionslehre zur Erkenntnistheorie,' Archiv
f. syst. Philos., I., pp. 34-46.
DAK WIN AND LOGIC. 179
those of the pragmatic evolutionists, they belong together in
general standpoint and aim. Not only do they both approach
the problems of logic from the psychological point of view, but
both alike derive their working conceptions from the biological
formulation of evolution rather than from post-Kantian ideal-
ism. The 'newer' evolutionary influence is shown by the
Chicago group of writers especially in their interpretation of
thought as instrumental and practical, both in its origin and
ultimate significance. Hence it follows that the logical prob-
lem is to describe and explain thinking in its dealings with a
concrete situation. Thinking is always a process of adjust-
ment, a means of securing adaptation, and, as such, does not
give rise to any general problem regarding the nature of knowl-
edge as such, and does not admit of interpretation in the light
of any absolute end. Professor Baldwin, on the other hand,
though holding to an instrumental view of the origin of the
logical function and the tests of truth, refuses to adopt the prag-
matic interpretation of the meaning and significance of knowl-
edge. He seems to hold that, when the stage of logical experi-
ence is reached in the progression of cognition, new functions
and meanings have emerged which cannot be adequately
described in instrumental or pragmatic terms. In his case the
Darwinian influence, however, seems to account for the dual-
ism that persists throughout between the inner and outer
* controls,' which appears to be the survival under another name
of the opposition between the organism and its environment.
It is true that Professor Baldwin tells us that this dualism is to
disappear in a higher form of experience of the type of aesthetic
contemplation ; but in the progress of logical development no
genuine organic unity between thinking and its object is
attained.
From the point of view of idealism, therefore, pragmatism
is strong where Professor Baldwin's theory is weak, and weak
where he is strong. The former position stoutly repudiates
dualism, while he as explicitly refuses to construe logical expe-
rience in instrumental terms. While recognizing the force of
the arguments that each of these parties directs against the
other, the idealist is ready on occasion to demonstrate that the
I So /. E. CREIGHTON.
dualism and pragmatism, which each finds unsatisfactory in the
other, have a common root, and are both the logical outcome
of the ' newer ' evolutionary approach to the problems of logic.
This general conclusion has already been urged from various
sides against pragmatism. Moreover, as pragmatism has been
for a considerable time the storm-center in logical discussions,
and as I have more than once expressed my views in relation
to it, I shall turn to Professor Baldwin's work as illustrating
Darwin's influence on the method and procedure of logic.
What seems to me especially significant in Mr. Baldwin's
work is the account, in the first volume of his Thought and
Things , of the stages and means through which the individ-
ual mind develops a fully conscious logical experience. It is
jn part the same undertaking which Hegel left so incomplete in
his Philosophic des Geistes, and which he combines so strangely
with other topics in the Phanomenologie as to be almost unin-
telligible. The progress of biology and psychology have made
it possible for Professor Baldwin to present a concrete and de-
tailed working out of this problem which is an immense advance
on anything that previously existed. And yet I cannot help
thinking that he has been hindered rather than helped by his
working conceptions. As I have already indicated, his stand-
point is dualistic : the development takes place through the
interplay of an inner and outer ' control,' which seem to be a
translation into other terms of the organism and environment.
The primary responses of the psycho-physical individual con-
sists of motor adjustments. These, as they come to conscious-
ness, furnish the contents of mind. "What we think is a
function of what we have done." The unity of thought itself
is * the conscious side of the unity or synergy of material ac-
tions.' In short, Professor Baldwin's account professes to show,
not the means through which the mind becomes conscious of
O
its own logical nature, but how that logical nature is engendered
in it through the motor adjustments of the organism to material
conditions. It appears to him essential to derive the logical
from the biological ; to begin with logic or reason as implicit is
to shirk explanation and take refuge in mysticism. But, after
all, is it not true that sensations of processes of motor accommo-
DARWIN AND LOGIC. 181
dation are no more able to account for the organization of ex-
perience than sensations of any other kind. It is an old story,
but nevertheless one that cannot be ignored, that a description
of experience must take account of the mind as the central
principle of that process. Leibniz's addition to the sensation-
alist formula — nisi intellectus ipse — has not been rendered
superfluous by the progress of science.
Of course, in recognizing the function of interest or atten-
tion \ even in the earliest forms of experience, Professor Baldwin
may be said to admit the presence from the beginning of the
interpreting activity of the mind. This, he might say, is * the
one continuous function ' whose development and progression
he is recording throughout his book. But although this ' uni-
versal function ' is recognized in words, it is phenomenalized,
equated with motor process, in the supposed need of ' scientific '
explanation. One may, indeed, analyze attention into motor
terms from the standpoint of structural psychology ; but, as the
function of meanings and the organizing principle of experience,
attention is not a phenomenon to be explained at all, but is itself
the presupposition of all explanation. This does not mean that
the development must not be traced in detail. Professor Bald-
win is quite right in insisting on the necessity of exhibiting the
'What' and the 'How' and 'Why' of the process. But it must
never be forgotten that logical progression moves in the realm
of meanings and functions, and that, consequently, the process
is self-determining, the relation of its parts being the inner
organic relation of means and end. That is, the account of
the development of experience must be expressed in ideological
terms, not in terms of cause and effect.
It is a common mistake to suppose that to employ teleology
is to abandon analysis and resign oneself to a merely formal
explanation. To appeal to this principle is supposed to be
equivalent to an appeal from knowledge to faith. But philosophy
has surely advanced far enough beyond Kant to recognize the
necessity of teleology not only as a ' regulative,' but also as a
' constitutive' principle. Whether we are to hold that ' science'
maybe teleological, depends upon what we include in our notion
^Thought and Things, Vol. I., pp. 40 ff.
l8z /. E. CREIGHTON.
of science. At any rate, no one can deny that experience pre-
sents us with variously organized systems of value which re-
quire to be analyzed and described in order to be understood.
Now, Mr. Baldwin has in various writings insisted that in a
genetic science the mechanical form of explanation no longer ap-
plies. He does not, however, abandon the causal category, but
merely denies that in a developing series there is any longer an
identity between the antecedent and consequent. It is the differ-
entia of a genetic series that in the later terms something new
appears which was not contained in the earlier. This appears to
be equivalent to giving up all explanation ; the ' something new'
simply comes into the series as a miracle. But, although the
conception is contradictory in principle, it enables Mr. Baldwin
to escape the difficulties which a causo-mechanical theory would
have to face, while at the same time assimilating his procedure
to that of causal science.1 It is contradictory in principle, for it
exhibits no identity throughout the different stages of the process ;
it renders impossible the conception of experience as the devel-
opment of one continuous function. But it is this latter principle,
with the teleology that it involves, that has enabled Mr. Baldwin
to reinterpret facts derived from psychology and sociology in a
way that is significant for logic. The following out of this
principle, however, is strangely crossed by and intermingled
with an external ' scientific ' explanation of experience in terms
of the interplay of the organism with its physical and social
environment.
That what I have called Mr. Baldwin's external mode of
explaining logical experience is derived from Darwinism is still
more evident from his presidential address entitled " Selective
Thinking."1 This paper is at once a program and an epitome
of the work that he has since published in this field. Here the
terms and conceptions are avowedly taken from biology, as is
evident from the following statement of the problem : " Look-
xlna paper entitled "The Notion of the Implicit in Logic," which was read
before the Philosophical Association at the Baltimore meeting, I have treated this
point more in detail. This paper will appear during the present year in The
Philosophical Review.
3 Published in The Psychological Review, January, 1898, and reprinted in
the volume Development and Evolution, pp. 238 ff.
DARWIN AND LOGIC. 183
ing at the question from a point of view analogous to that of the
biologists when they consider the problem of • determination ' in
organic evolution, we are led to the following rough but ser-
viceable division of the topics involved — a division which my
discussion will follow : (i) The material of selective thinking
(the supply of variations) ; (2) the function of selection (how
certain variations are selected out for survival) ; (3) the criteria
of selection (what variations are singled out for survival) ; (4)
certain resulting interpretations." l This formulation of the
problem and the comparatively brief compass of the paper bring
out clearly both the nature of the explanatory principles that he
proposes to employ and also, I think, the ambiguity in the
actual procedure to which reference has already been made.
On the one hand, we are told that " it is just the nature of
knowledge to be an organization, a structure, a system."
Variations are not fruitful " that do not fit into the coordinations
of knowledge which are ours, nor bring about readjustments in
the arrangement of them. The items, to appeal to me, must
never quite break with the past of my knowledge : each must
have its hand linked with that of the thought which begot it."
" The attention is a function of organization, a function which
grows with the growth of knowledge, holds in its own integrity
the system of data already organized in experience." 4 More-
over, Professor Baldwin points out that " the environment of
thought can only be thoughts ; only processes of thought can
influence thoughts and be influenced by them. . . . Even in
knowledge of the external world of signs, expressions, etc., we
have to say that movement must be reduced to some form of
thought in order to be organized in our knowledge."' In these
and many other statements that might be quoted from the paper,
the idealist recognizes familiar doctrine, and also that here fresh
facts and illustrations are brought to its support. But the Dar-
winian conceptions, which play the main role, lead the author
to * genetic ' results of the organization of knowledge which are
1 Development and Evolution, pp. 238-239.
*Ibid., p. 245.
8 Ibid., pp. 246-247.
*Ibid.t p. 252.
5 Ibid., pp. 260-261.
184 /. E. CREIGHTON.
quite out of harmony with that indicated in the passages quoted.
These are summed up in statements like the following : " Selec-
tive thinking is the result of motor accommodation to the phys-
ical and social environment ; this accommodation taking place
in each case, as all motor accommodation does, from a platform
of earlier 'systematic determination' or habit."1 "Thus
organized knowledge in all its development may be looked upon
as due to the synergies of motor process selected as accommo-
dations to the world of things and persons."2 This really
amounts to a derivation, not merely of the contents of the mind,
but of its organizing principles and categories from the control
of the environment. Although we are told that ' the burden of
mental progress seems to lie on the side of the organizing func-
tion,' that organizing function is itself derivative. "The indi-
vidual's judgment, his sense of reality and truth . . . when
genetically considered is both the outcome and the evidence of
the control which the environment has all along exercised.
Even though we assume certain innate norms of selection
which the individual directly applies, still those norms must not
only lead to workable systems of knowledge in the world of
active experience, but they must also in their origin have been
themselves selected from variations, unless, indeed, we go back
to a theory of preestablished harmony."3
It appears to me that it is necessary only to place such state-
ments side by side in order to exhibit the difficulties of the posi-
tion. Of course, Mr. Baldwin's view is that logical organization
arises out of the earlier organization or platform of motor habits.
But what is the principle of unity that holds together motor ad-
justments into an organization? What is meant by the 'syn-
ergy ' or union of adaptive movements which is said to give
unity and organization to the mental life? If we say that this
is just the consciousness of the movements as related, do we not
thereby imply that the unity and organization are involved in the
very nature of consciousness? To form a system or platform,
1 Op. dt., p. 264.
2 Ibid., p. 265.
3 Op. tit., p. 266. It is interesting to note that here, as elsewhere, the alter-
native for Professor Baldwin is between deriving logical principles mechanic-
ally and finding them existing a priori.
DARWIN AND LOGIC. 185
the motor sensations must be interpreted, evaluated, or translated
into terms of knowledge. Similarly, new motor accommoda-
tions cannot produce changes in this system. It is only thought
which produces changes in the organization of knowledge.
Attention is, indeed, in a sense * action ' ; but can its function as
the organizing principle of experience be adequately described
in terms of what is ' motor, afferent, kinaesthetic '? And the Dar-
winian principles show their inadequacy in other respects. For
thinking is not mere selection or elimination. Not only do the
variations arise as differentiations of the achieved organization
of experience at any stage, but they are linked to each other in
such a way that they mutually define and determine each other.
The variation finally chosen has itself undergone modification
and determination through the process of elimination. Moreover,
it is not simply added to the platform from which it arose, but
enters into it as an organic member. In short, what we have is
a living, organic process of internal transformation and growth
to which no account in mechanical terms can do justice.1
The general result that we seem to have reached is that Dar-
win's conceptions can be fruitful for logic only when transformed
in the light *of an idealistic philosophy. When carried over
directly into logic they furnish no really genetic or teleological
principle of explanation, but throw us back on the mechanical
and external categories which have already been tried and found
wanting. Nevertheless, Darwin's work and method — infusing
as they did new life into the psychological and historical sciences
and opening up new problems and new fields of investigation
— fortunately have not left logic untouched. Fortunately, for
if logic is to fulfil its task of interpreting and exhibiting the
principles of experience, it must rest upon the work of the
physical and mental sciences, that ' first vintage ' of truth, as
1 In this attempt to trace out the influence of biological concepts on Mr.
Baldwin's logical writings and to estimate their value, my criticisms have neces-
sarily been stated somewhat summarily. The points involved are so funda-
mental that it is, of course, impossible to treat of them exhaustively or ade-
quately in this incidental way. Readers of this REVIEW have, however, already
had the main issues between idealistic and Darwinian logic ably presented on
both sides in a notable discussion between Mr. Bosanquet and Mr. Baldwin,
which was carried on in various numbers of this journal during 1902 and 1903.
1 86 /. E. CREIGHTON,
Bacon might say. The vast accumulation of facts in various
fields, and the new form of the results, offer fresh problems to
logic and demand a new statement and interpretation from it.
The new facts of biology, psychology, sociology, and history
press upon logic for reinterpretation and revaluation in terms
of experience. Not only will Hegel's work ' all have to be
done over again,' as Green remarked ; but logic, if it is to keep
alive and fulfil its function, will have to be done over con-
stantly and continuously by each generation in order to meet the
new problems raised by the advance of the special sciences.
There can be no doubt that the weakness of the Hegelian logic
consists in the fact that its connection with psychological experi-
ence is not clearly and fully worked out. When we call to
mind how comparatively little had been accomplished in the
way of scientific analysis a century ago, either in physical science
or psychology, we cannot but marvel at Hegel's achievement.
That, working with such scanty materials, he was able to
furnish an interpretation of experience whose essential features
the advance of science has confirmed, is a striking evidence of
his own profound insight, and of his ability to profit by the
labors of his predecessors.
This work, however, must be done over again in the light of
the new facts and laws that are furnished by science, and more
particularly by the evolutionary sciences to which Darwin's dis-
covery gave a new impetus and direction. It should be recog-
nized that the movement known as Neo-Hegelianism constitutes
an important step in this direction. That movement has suc-
ceeded in ridding itself of the formalism and abstractness that
characterized Hegel's results, mainly by recognizing and making
use of the new material that scientific analysis has brought to
light, particularly in the field of psychology. The further
reconstruction of logic that is urged by the pragmatists and
Mr. Baldwin is undoubtedly made necessary by the discovery
of facts of a new order, and most of all by the new conceptions
under which the sciences are to-day presenting various aspects
of experience. These writers have done good service, both by
insisting on the need for a restatement of logic that shall take
up into itself and serve as an interpretation of the psychological
DARWIN AND LOGIC. 187
sciences, and by their own positive contributions toward such a
restatement. The criticism that I have tried to justify in the
case of Mr. Baldwin is that he has sought to bring about this
reconstruction by adopting to some extent the standpoint and
working conceptions of biology and psychology. For it must
never be forgotten that logic has not to take over either facts or
conceptions from the special sciences. It is rather its function
to reduce these facts to its own terms, to estimate their value
and assign to them their meaning in accordance with its own
standards. Darwin's evolutionary principles, being formulated
as a mechanical explanation of the adaptations to be met with in
organic nature, can have no direct application as an explanation
of experience.
After all, is not the fundamental issue between Idealistic and
Darwinian logic, simply the old question as to whether reason
and purpose can be explained in terms of relations obtaining be-
tween phenomena, or whether these principles are not rather
presupposed in all science and experience ? If the latter be true,
and only if it be true, are we entitled to employ teleology as an
explanatory category of our experience. For the ultimate ex-
planatory category of experience must be at the same time its
universal presupposition. To work out and justify the connec-
tion between presupposition and final category is to complete the
circle of experience, and so must mark out for logic the nature
of its undertaking.
THE INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON SOCIOLOGY.
BY PROFESSOR CHARLES A. ELLWOOD,
The University of Missouri.
It often happens in the history of science that the influence
of a great thinker and investigator in one field penetrates to
many related fields. It is not often, however, that the influence
of such a man comes to dominate in other fields than his own.
Yet this is undoubtedly what has happened in the case of
Darwin ; and perhaps in no field outside of his own is the domi-
nance of Darwin's influence to be seen more clearly to-day than
in sociology. John Fiske said, that Herbert Spencer was the
most eminent thinker that England produced in the nineteenth
century : but although Spencer was primarily a sociologist, his
influence in sociology is waning, while Darwin's influence is
growing. When one reflects upon the immense influence which
Darwin's work has had on practically all lines of human thought,
and especially on the biological, psychological, and social
sciences, one is forced to conclude that Fiske's estimate must
be revised, and that Darwin must be given the seat of highest
honor as the most fructifying thinker which the nineteenth cen-
tury produced, not only in England, but in the whole world.
And the social significance of Darwin's teachings is even yet
only beginning to be apprehended.
Not that Darwin had any theory of his own regarding human
society. Outside of a couple of chapters in his Descent of Man
he says little specifically regarding the problems of human so-
ciety ; and it must be admitted that what little he says is not
peculiarly valuable or profound, but only suggestive. In spite
of the vast range of his mind and of his scientific labors, Dar-
win, then, was not especially interested in social problems and
made no direct contribution to sociology. On the other hand,
Spencer was primarily interested in social problems. His first
considerable work, Social Statics, was along sociological lines,
1 88
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON SOCIOLOGY. 189
while his whole synthetic philosophy was confessedly developed
to support his social and political theories. Even in his famous
controversy with Weismann Spencer admitted that social interests
were influential in his defending the doctrine of the inheritance
of * acquired characters.' Thus Spencer's interest in other sci-
ences was subsidiary, while throughout life he remained primarily
a sociologist. Nevertheless, as was said above, it has come
about that Spencer's influence in sociology is waning, while
the influence of Darwin, who was not a sociologist at all and
not even greatly interested in social problems, is growing.
The reasons for the decrease of Spencer's influence in
sociology and the increase of Darwin's are not far to seek.
Spencer sought his principles of social interpretation in the
physical sciences, as his work on First Principles clearly
shows. He aimed at explaining social phenomena in terms of
the redistribution of matter and energy. While he found it im-
possible to carry out an interpretation of social life in these
terms, his conception of evolution, and even of social evolution,
remained mechanical to the last. Spencer's social interpreta-
tions, then, being fundamentally in terms alien to the social
life, were fore-doomed to failure. Again, Spencer's social and
political theories were largely based upon the ideas and preju-
dices of the average middle-class Englishman of his time ; and
his knowledge of biology and psychology did not greatly alter
his social theories, but rather the latter powerfully influenced
his biological and psychological views. Under these circum-
stances it is not surprising that many of Spencer's social theories
were of a temporary character.
Darwin's methods, on the other hand, were totally different.
We find in him no appeal to vague principles borrowed from
the physical sciences ; but on the contrary he attempts to explain
the life-process in terms of its own elements. As is well known
Darwin got the key to his natural selection theory of organic
development from Malthus, a writer on social and economic
problems. Malthus, in his sociologic study of the growth of
population, demonstrated that the normal rate of reproduction
in man is in some geometric ratio, and consequently, to use
Malthus's own metaphor, nature invited more guests to her
190 CHARLES A. ELLWOOD.
banquet than she laid covers. Hence arose, according to
Malthus, a struggle for existence in human society, in which
the weaker succumbed to poverty, disease and death, while the
stronger survived. Darwin seized upon this idea and general-
ized it, applying it to all organic nature and deducing therefrom
his famous doctrine of the natural elimination of the inferior
and the evolution of higher types through the ' natural selection '
of the better adapted. It may be suggested that Darwin's
principle of natural selection found ready acceptance in sociol-
ogy because it was a principle which had already been recog-
nized and applied, though in a negative way, in social theory.
However, the deeper reason for the strong influence which
Darwin's work has had upon sociology is probably the simple
fact that his work was upon a part of sociology's foundations.
Sociology, as a body of theory regarding the origin and develop-
ment, structure and function of human society, could not develop
until biology had developed. Spencer worked largely at rear-
ing a sociological superstructure for which the necessary biolog-
ical and psychological foundations had not been laid, while
Darwin worked at these foundations. However much Darwin's
selection theory of organic evolution may have to be modified
by the biologists of the future, there is no doubt that his work
established biology upon a secure scientific basis. The inevi-
table consequence has been that Darwin's work has reacted to
enrich immeasurably all the sciences in any way connected
with biology.
The greatest effect of Darwin's work on sociology has been
of course in connection with the theory which is particularly
associated with his name : the selection theory of evolution.
While it is one of the moot points in biology just now whether
natural selection operating upon minute variations even through
immense periods of time is capable of producing new species,
there has never been any doubt since Darwin wrote that selec-
tion is a powerful modifying influence upon all forms of life
through its ' fixing ' certain variations. In this sense Darwin
demonstrated that selection is the chief creative force in the
biological realm. Sociologists have not been slow to see that
this idea had vast possibilities when applied to the interpretation
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON SOCIOLOGY. 191
of the forms and movements of human social life. While none
has succeeded in showing that natural selection is the key to
social evolution, it has been repeatedly shown that natural selec-
tion conditions the social evolution process at every step ; that
natural selection is the basis, though not the moving force, of
human progress. The competition between human groups,
especially through war, and the resulting elimination of those
of inferior organization or of inefficient membership, has been
shown to be in past social history one of the chief causes of the
continued advance to higher types of social organization. All
the higher types of human cooperation may thus be said to be
« fixed ' by natural selection quite in the same sense that the
higher types of life are. In many other ways also natural
selection has been shown to affect human society, especially,
for example, in the way in which the death rate affects different
classes or elements in complex human groups. So numerous
have been the sociological writers who have applied the idea of
natural selection to human society that it seems superfluous to
mention any, but Gumplowicz, Novicow, Ratzenhofer, Ward
and Kidd may be taken as types, though not all of these men
have embodied consistently the Darwinian point of view. In-
deed, but few sociologists have had with any exactness Dar-
win's point of view, while not a few, the so-called ultra-
Darwinists, by grossly exaggerating certain elements in his
doctrine, such as struggle, have brought discredit upon his
whole theory. Nevertheless, sociologists are more agreed
to-day than ever before that natural selection must be given an
important place among the factors of social evolution.
But it is not natural selection alone which has occupied the
attention of sociologists, but rather selection in all of its forms ;
and the impulse to the study of the effects of various forms of
selection upon human society may be fairly credited to Darwin,
since selection, though long known and practically applied,
was first given by him its full theoretic significance in evolu-
tionary science. It is especially social selection which has of
late been attracting the attention of sociologists ; that is, the
effect of social institutions and customs upon the birth and
death rates of various classes. Francis Galton, a cousin
192 CHARLES A. ELLWOOD.
of Darwin, led in his Hereditary Genius (1869) in this study
of social selection, showing especially the evil effects of religious
celibacy upon various European peoples. Darwin in his Descent
of Man paid some attention to various forms of social selection,
suggesting, among other things, that war produced a ' reversal
of selection ' (*'. £., a breeding from the least fit). This idea
has been developed by numerous writers, among the latest of
whom is the historian Seeck, who finds in Rome's constant
wars, and the resulting elimination of her ablest and strongest
men, the chief cause of the decline of Greco-Roman civilization.
The selective effects of city life, of economic competition, of
standards of living, of marriage customs and laws, of various
forms of benevolence, have all received increased attention from
students of human society in recent years, though much still
remains to be done. Certain it is that in any theory of social
evolution in the future the various forms of selection must be
given an important place, and especially must mis-selection be
emphasized as one of the chief causes of social decadence. It is
to be regretted that in a matter of such vital human importance
there is still lacking adequate scientific investigation of the
working of various selective agencies in human society.
Here must be noted the important practical application of
the selection theory which it is proposed to make in bettering
social conditions. Francis Galton has spent the latter years
of his life in organizing a new division of scientific philanthropy
which he calls the science of ' eugenics.' He defines ' eugenics '
as ' the study of agencies under social control that may improve
or impair the racial qualities of future generations, either physi-
cally or mentally.' A ' Eugenics Education Society' has been
organized in England, which, together with the British Soci-
ological Society, conducts a vigorous propaganda in behalf of
the new science. As yet little similar work has been attempted
in the United States. However distant any extensive applica-
tion of the principle of selection to the improvement of the
human breed may seem to be, it is now acknowledged by all
scientific students of philanthropy and scientific social workers
that there is a biological element in the social problems of crime,
pauperism, and other forms of degeneracy which is amenable
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON SOCIOLOGY. 1 93
to control only through selection. The theory of evolution by
selection, in other words, has brought a great hope into the
world that human misery in its worst forms may itself be subject
to control. While sociologists will doubtless continue, as they
have done in the past, to emphasize the all-importance of edu-
cation, the nurture of each individual life, they will in the future
have to take into account the possibility of improving nature
also through the selective control of heredity. It may well be
that future ages will look back to Darwin as marking, not merely
a new view of organic nature, but a turning point in the history
of the race in its control over human nature and over the prob-
lems of collective human life.
Sociology owes much to Darwin also in indirect ways, through
the influence which his work has had in developing other sci-
ences than biology, especially psychology. Sociology is not
merely an extension of biology, as this paper has, perhaps, thus
far seemed to imply ; it is even more a psychological interpretation
of the social life. Whatever has contributed to the development
of psychology, therefore, has contributed to the development of
sociology. Now the influence of Darwin upon psychology,
which is discussed in detail in another paper in this number,
may perhaps be summed up by saying that it tended toward a
functional view of the mental life. Darwin's whole view of
life was essentially functional. Everything about an organism,
barring perhaps its accidental variations, had a meaning with
reference to the whole life-process. The color and form of
plants and animals, for example, Darwin sought to show, had
a survival value for the species to which they belong. This
view he carried over to the mental and moral characteristics of
man. Hence has arisen the functional psychology of the
present, which regards mental life as a part of the whole life-
process and interprets it through its function in that process.
This view is now practically dominant in psychology, and is
rapidly transforming sociology also. The details of this trans-
formation, which is now going on, cannot be here discussed,
but it is evident that a sociology based upon a functional view
of human nature will be a very different sort of affair from a
sociology based upon a static view of human nature. And all
this is undoubtedly a remote effect of Darwin's work.
194 CHARLES A. ELL WOOD.
Finally, the great debt of sociology to Darwin, as of all the
sciences, is that he finally established the doctrine of evolution
upon a secure foundation. That doctrine, in one form or an-
other, had long been before the intellectual world, but it had
failed of general acceptance until Darwin wrote. In the social
sciences, it is true, the conception of social evolution had long
been common. The idea of progress in human history, first
put forth in modern times by Bodin, had been made the central
idea in social philosophy by Condorcet. And Comte had even
divided sociology into two parts, one treating of the laws of
social progress and the other of the laws of social order. Still
the idea of evolution, in its broader aspects, was insecurely
held in the social sciences and not generally accepted until
Darwin wrote. Darwin's work, then, wrought a revolution in
the social sciences as well as in other sciences. His influence
established in them the genetic point of view, so that sociology
came to throw the emphasis, as it does to-day, upon the study
of social changes rather than of social structure, making it a
science of social evolution rather than merely a science of
social organization.
DARWIN AND EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS.
BY PROFESSOR JAMES H. TUFTS,
The University of Chicago,
It is opportune that while we are honoring Darwin for his
far-reaching influence in almost every field of modern thought
we should consider his relation to ethics. The power of his
name is being used in support of policies and doctrines which he
certainly did not favor in his writings, and which there is no
good reason to think he would approve to-day. Speaking of the
general reaction against humanitarianism which shows itself in
so many forms to-day Mr. Hobhouse says that " the doctrine
that human progress depends upon the forces which condition
biological evolution has in fact been the primary cause of
the reaction. Darwin himself, indeed, was conscious of the
limitations of his own hypothesis ..." but «« what has filtered
through into the social and political thought of the time has
been the belief that the time-honored doctrine * might is right '
has a scientific foundation in the laws of biology. Progress
comes about through a conflict in which the fittest survives. It
must, therefore, be unwise in the long run ... to interfere
with the struggle. We must not sympathize with the beaten
and the weak, lest we be tempted to preserve them. The best
thing that can happen is that they should be utterly cut off, for
they are the inferior stock and their blood must not mix with
ours." Darwin himself certainly held a very different doctrine.
As has often been pointed out there are two distinct aspects
of the relation between ethical theory and evolution, which
have been termed respectively the * evolution of ethics ' and the
* ethics of evolution.' But historically, origin and validity have
been persistently and almost inseparably connected. To show
that a law is not binding, prove that it is a recent, or * artificial '
construction. To give a strong force to custom, say that ' it is
not of yesterday or to-day but lives forever, and none knows
whence it sprang.' In both ancient and modern times the
'95
196 JAMES H. TUFTS.
question as to the origin of law or justice or current moral val-
uations has been forced to the front in times of conflict over the
authority of institutions and customs. Such a situation called
out the varying theories of the Greek enlightenment and the
serious efforts of Spinoza and Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau.
But whereas interest in the ancient world confined itself for the
most part to the more objective questions as to the origin of in-
stitutions which likewise formed the initial question for modern
reflection, the growing importance of the individual has brought
increasingly to the front the more subjective problem : How
does the moral consciousness arise? Is it an 'intuition' or
'sense' implanted once for all in human nature and incapable
of further analysis? Or is it a product of gradual formation
which can either be analyzed into simpler elements bound
together by association or traced back historically to social
forces? These are questions quite analogous to the general
alternative between special creation of separate species or that
continuity which Darwin maintained as his first premise.
The early evolutionary theories of morals were on their face
primarily designed to condemn or approve the existing standards
and institutions, and only incidentally as scientific accounts.
Polus in the well-known passage argues that Might is Right by
nature's law, and that all existing judgments to the contrary are
a Sklavenmoral, set up by the weak, and gradually accepted by
members of other classes who are ' charmed ' from early youth
by the suggestions emanating from dominant influence. Or
again, what is ' stronger, freer, and more masterful,' is admired
when it does not infringe too strongly on the interests of others ;
hence the interest of the stronger is really the basis of all law
and ' justice.' Democrats and aristocrats make laws and shape
institutions each for their own interest. Our xa^oxd^adol are
' honorable ' and ' excellent ' from the standpoint of their own
class ; but this is because " Nomos is lord of all."
On the other hand, if it is desired to strengthen respect for
existing codes, reverence and a sense of justice are attributed to
a primeval gift of the gods, designed to make associated life
possible and thereby afford man protection against wild beasts —
aid in the struggle for existence. Or by Aristotle with a preg-
DARWIN AND EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. 197
nant reversal of standpoint, nature is to be sought not in the
beginning, but in the perfected realization of powers. The
process of social and moral evolution begins with impulse (bppy)
to the life in common, but the increasing organization of society
gives increasing opportunity for human powers. For though in
complete development man is the noblest, yet without the con-
ceptions and the practice of justice and the excellence for which
organized society is necessary "no animal is so unscrupulous or
savage, none so sensual, none so gluttonous." This doctrine,
then, equally with the opposing theories sought a standard in
* reality,' in evolution. But in its intent it looked forward, not
backward, to a social intelligence and not to a physical force.
Nevertheless, it is obvious that the conception of a law of nature
as universal in human institutions and innate in the human soul
could easily become in legal doctrine a ground for justifying
institutions as they now are.
The reason why « nature ' appealed so strongly to the Greek
was not biological. He did not trouble himself particularly as
to the future of the race. Professor Dewey has recentlv stated
forcibly why nature was such a word to conjure with : l
"What, finally, is this Nature to which the philosophy of
society and the individual so bound itself? It is the nature
which figures in Greek custom and myth ; the nature resplendent
and adorned which confronts us in Greek poetry and art : The
animism of savage man purged of grossness and generalized by
unerring aesthetic taste into beauty and system. The myths had
told of the loves and hates, the caprices and desertions of the
gods, and, behind them all, inevitable fate. Philosophy trans-
lated these tales into formulae of the brute fluctuation of rapa-
cious change held in bounds by the final and supreme end : the
rational good. The animism of the popular mind died to reap-
pear as cosmology."
We find the evolution of morality and the law of nature the
center of discussion once more at the opening of modern
thought. A Falstaff might flippantly appeal to biology to jus-
tify his predatory designs upon Justice Shallow : "If the young
dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason in the law of
1 Ethics, Columbia University Lecture, 1908.
198 JAMES H. TUFTS.
nature but I may snap at him." But Hobbes wished to establish
a firm basis for government by showing the brutishness of a
* state of nature,' Spinoza to point the way of escape from
' human bondage.' The striking thing about these attempts is
the discredit which has now fallen upon the natural. One
school of writers, indeed, maintains the rational and social
nature of man, and the rational laws of cosmic nature, but the
most striking evolutionary theories, those of Hobbes and Spi-
noza, conceive nature as the realm where force, and the instinct
for self-preservation hold sway. This was doubtless due largely
to the theological dualism between the ' natural man,' born in
sin, totally depraved, with no good instincts, and the spiritual
man who must needs be 'born again,' regenerated by special
divine grace, before he could be just or good.
In the case of such a writer as Hobbes, very likely a re-
enforcement to the dualistic attitude came from the horrors of
war which seemed to disclose the primitive passions of man
when unchecked by the barriers built by law and government
against them. In Spinoza's case there was a metaphysical
reinforcement. For although it is the very essence of substance
(or God) that involves existence and persistence and becomes
in man the ' endeavor ' for self-preservation, yet as ' the force
whereby a man persists in existing is limited,' and as he is thus
necessarily ' a part of nature' and ' passive,' " it follows that
man is necessarily always a prey to his passions."
The forces adduced by the writers who sought to bridge the
chasm without appealing to supernatural agency were various.
The view of the world and life sub specie ceternitatis in which
Spinoza saw the only relief from human bondage made the
saved as few as the elect of Calvinism. Nevertheless, the
measure of reason which men in general have is sufficient to
lead them to seek greater power and advantage through union
in the civil order. Man perceives his need of his fellow men
and in this sense may be called sociable. Hobbes dwelt upon
the fear which drove men to political life and legal morality.
Mandeville introduced pride and susceptibility to flattery as
affording the agencies on which superior classes could work in
fastening the 'slave morality' (to borrow Nietzsche's phrase)
DA It WIN AND E VOL UTIONA R Y B THICS. 1 99
upon the inferior class — thus "savage man was broke." It
was avowedly against the supposedly evil effects of such a
nominalistic and selfish theory of morals as that of Hobbes that
the evolutionary theories arose which claimed a continuity in
moral development.
The * herding instinct,' the * seed of a boniform nature,' the
instinctive disgust or recoil from what is * nasty,' the « moral
sense,' of Shaftesbury and his school all reflect this standpoint.
The optimism of ' natural religion ' (the term itself was an
abomination from the previous standpoint as to the wickedness
of the natural), the era of comparative peace, the increase of
commerce and general intelligence, all favored the spread of
the conception of historical and psychological continuity in the
moral process. Hume was able to effect a synthesis of the
claims of reason and instinct in the rise of society and justice.
Sex instinct starts the process and brings pairs together. The
advantage of society when once experienced is then consciously
appreciated. A civil order which included justice is ' artificial.'
Emancipated from unquestioning acceptance of the authority
of the Church and the Leviathan, the individual was moved to
examine the nature and origin of the inward authority which
was replacing external control. If conscience has the right to
govern the world how is such a right derived? The rationalist
account of the « moral faculty ' did not lend itself easily to evo-
lutionary treatment. Reason tended to be conceived mathe-
matically or logically. It was ' timeless,' ' universal and neces-
sary.' Kant, indeed, in his essay on political evolution for once
seems on the verge of a very different conception. Men's
passions and conflicting impulses call out a civil order and
evoke a reason to recognize its values. And the later German
idealism foreshadowed, at least, if it did not clearly grasp, the
conception of an evolution of reason. But it was the * moral
sentiment ' which lent itself most easily to genetic treatment
whether by the associationist analysis of Hartley or by the bril-
liant beginnings of social psychology in Adam Smith.
The * validity ' of a moral sentiment was not necessarily
threatened by considering it genetically. But when the process
was conceived hedonistically, as an association of pleasurable
200 JAMES H. TUFTS.
elements, it was difficult to ascribe to the product any greater
authority than that of any other pleasurable feeling. If my
moral sentiment gives me pleasure in a generous act, well ; if
I find more pleasure in an egoistic act, who can say me nay?
If it is a matter of individual association, why is my liberty
judged by another man's conscience? J. S. Mill, as he tells
us, felt in his own experience the artificial character of the
theory, and in the * Utilitarianism ' took two important steps
toward a more adequate conception. On the one hand, the
* social feelings ' took on the form of an active ' natural want '
rather than of an association of pleasures. On the other hand,
he considered that first the social state, so natural, so necessary
and habitual, and then the necessity of cooperation with others
and of proposing * a collective, not an individual interest ' were
agencies in bringing about the social feelings. It wanted but
an additional step to disclose the individual as a ' social out-
come ' rather than as a * social unit,' but this was a revolution
for which the time was not ripe.
The social explanation through Sympathy, begun by Hume
in hedonistic terms and developed along broader lines by Adam
Smith, cast no discredit upon the product for a generation which
valued the social. Not until race collisions, class contrasts,
and the clashing of ideals of a new era had set up as morally
desirable a sharp antagonism between the ' higher ' and ' lower '
races, between the ' fit ' and the ' masses/ between the ' soli-
tary ' and the ' herd,' did sympathy become a synonym for
weakness, and come to be regarded as fatally infecting the
moral sentiment it had aided in producing.
The great contribution of Spencer was that he placed moral
evolution — both moral progress and the formation of moral sen-
timents — in the sweep of his universal process. We may easily
criticize his hedonistic analysis of the « moral sense,' or, from
another point of view, his belief that he has reconciled the em-
pirical and a -priori schools of thought by his doctrine of the
experiences of the race. We may smile at his derivation of the
consciousness of duty, and from our present standpoint of social
psychology detect the fallacies of his atomistic conception of the
individual in group life. We may think that his appeal to evo-
DAR WIN AND E VOL UTIONA R Y B THICS. 2O I
lution in the Social Statics is rather to confirm a doctrine of
political ethics already established on other grounds. The fact
remains that he had conceived a world-wide movement. Men-
tal and moral and social evolution gained immensely in their
significance and definiteness when placed under a law asserted
also of all the inorganic and organic world. And as compared
with the great evolutionary conceptions of German idealism, the
great advance in the natural sciences and the relative simplicity
and clarity of their concepts gave Spencer a great advantage in
power of appeal, even if this very simplicity inevitably brought
it its own limitations for the explanatory principles so derived.
Applied to morality the principle of adaptation makes " moral
progress not an accident but a necessity. Instead of civiliza-
tion being artificial it is a part of nature, all of a piece with the
development of an embryo or the unfolding of a flower." For
" all evil results from the non-adaptation of constitution to con-
ditions " ; but it is an essential principle of life that non-adapta-
tion is ever being rectified until the adaptation is complete.
Man's primitive predatory life required sacrifice of the welfare
of other beings to his own, and his unfitness for present society
is due to a survival of these traits formerly necessary.
The wide-reaching influence of Darwin upon ethical theory
was not so much by his own discussion of the moral sentiments
in the Descent of Man, as by the general biological and logical
principles of his Origin of Species. The question was soon
raised as to the operation of natural selection in the social and
moral sphere. No evolutionary theories had brought home so
vividly the continuity of the whole organic world. None,
therefore, had seemed to immerse man so deeply in nature, and
make him merely one link in a chain all forged of one metal
and in one fire. Before Darwin's own discussion of morality in
the Descent of Man numerous important contributions appeared.
Among those which Darwin cites as most directly in the line of
his problem were those of Wallace, Gallon, Bagehot and Greg.
It remained for Darwin to approach the problem ' exclusively
from the side of natural history,' and * as an attempt to see how
far the study of the lower animals throws light on one of the
highest psychical faculties of man.' The general lines of Dar-
202 JAMES H. TUFTS.
win's theory are indicated largely by this standpoint and by
the fact that the dominating English tradition of his time sought
the distinctive character of the moral in the emotional rather
than in the rational factor. His proposition is " that any animal
whatever, endowed with well-marked social instincts, the paren-
tal and filial affections being here included, would inevitably
acquire a moral sense or conscience, as soon as its intellectual
powers had become as well, or nearly as well developed, as in
man."
The four steps in the development are the following : (i)
The social instincts lead to pleasure in society, to sympathy, to
aid. (2) With the rise of memory, pains due to unsatisfied in-
stinct would arise when the more enduring social instincts had
been overcome by some temporarily stronger desire. (3) The
common opinion of a group, expressed in language, and appeal-
ing to the love of approbation due to sympathy, would become
paramount as a guide. (4) These factors would be reenforced
by habit.
The weak points in the scheme as worked out are due largely
(i) to conceiving the moral consciousness too exclusively in
instinctive and emotional terms. There is no reference to the
part of choice in building up a moral agent. Thought or
reason appears in it chiefly in the guise of memory and there is
but a hint at an intelligent forecasting of the future, and weigh-
ing of values with reference to a purpose or end. There is
thus little thought of a self, and the crux of the problem takes
the form of setting ' the more enduring social instincts ' over
against the more transient gratifications of bodily appetite or
selfish desire. To throw the whole burden of the consciousness
of duty on the single precarious support of the greater ' persist-
ency' in consciousness of the social instincts would scarcely be
possible for one who had read in ethics as thoroughly as Dar-
win had studied in the organic field.
The second weakness is of a very different sort, and one
which all psychology shared until recently. The individual is
conceived to a large degree as the unit, endowed to be sure
with social instincts and sympathy which make him responsive
to public opinion, but not social in the deeper sense which
DARWIN AND EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. 203
present psychology is working out and which, it is fair to say,
carries out with far more adequate analysis the line of thought
which Darwin did much to promote.
For the strong point in Darwin's method of approach was
first that it gave to the whole theory of moral evolution a con-
crete setting in a process which was both broadly conceived and
definitely evidenced, and secondly that it gave a much broader
basis for the social nature of man than had usually been given
by those who had considered man apart from animal life. The
examples of mutual aid as well as of instinctive craving for the
company of other animals of the species gave a fuller content
to the term social, while his long study of animal instincts
doubtless kept Darwin from becoming entangled in the hedon-
istic psychology by which English writers had so often been
led astray. It is indeed a striking illustration of Darwin's inde-
pendence and sagacity that he escaped the common fallacy on
this point although, as he says, all the authors whom he had
consulted, with a few exceptions, held to the hedonistic theory.
A point of greater present interest because it lies much
closer to the question of moral standard is the question how far
natural selection is an important factor in the growth of morality
and the moral sense. On this point Darwin regards his own
discussion as ' imperfect and fragmentary.' As already noted
many writers in the period which had elapsed between the
Origin of Species and the Descent of Man had broached this
question. Wallace had pointed out that although man would
be little liable to bodily modifications through natural selection
his intellectual and moral faculties would be both variable and
highly important, hence there would be a field for natural
selection. Bagehot's Physics and Politics originally published
in 1867-1869 has as its secondary title, Thoughts on the Appli-
cation of the Principles of Natural Selection to Inheritance and
to Political Society and is in many ways the most brilliant dis-
cussion of the subject which has appeared. This as is well
known had emphasized the necessity of coherence, of obedience
and law, of the ' cake of custom,' as fundamental elements of
strength. 'The frame of their morals' must be 'set by long
ages of transmitted discipline ' before there can be individual
204 JAMES H. TUFTS.
liberty or general freedom of intercourse. There are also other
virtues which are selected by conflict. The military virtues
may be said to be the * preliminary virtues.' On the other
hand, Bagehot points out forcibly the defects of the selection
which depends upon war. " Humanity, charity, a nice sense
of the rights of others, it does not foster." Contempt for phys-
ical weakness and for women which mark early society are
survivals. So too are the metaphors from law and war which
make most of our current moral phrases and frequently vitiate
what they illustrate. Military morals exaggerate action and
discipline, and place too little value on meditation.
Darwin emphasizes the survival value in primitive life of
sympathy, fidelity and courage. He points out, however, that
within a specific group natural selection would frequently work
to preserve those less virtuous rather than the more faithful and
courageous. The primitive instinct would be gradually ree'n-
forced by purposive aid performed at first from selfish motives.
Habits of performing benevolent actions would strengthen a
feeling of sympathy and " habits followed during many gener-
ations, probably tend to be inherited." A more powerful stim-
ulus to social virtue, however, is the praise and blame of fellow
men, and this also rests ultimately on sympathy. With * an in-
crease in number of well endowed men and an advancement in the
standard of morality,' there will be an * immense advantage ' to
one tribe over another. " A tribe including many members who
from possessing in a high degree the spirit of patriotism, fidelity,
obedience, courage and sympathy, were always ready to aid
one another, and to sacrifice themselves for the common good,
would be victorious over most other tribes ; and this would be
natural selection." With civilized nations, on the other hand,
" natural selection apparently effects but little." " The causes
which lead to the advance of morality are rather the approba-
tion of our fellow men — the strengthening of our sympathies
by habit — example and imitation — reason — experience, and
even self-interest — instruction during youth, and religious
feelings."
Noteworthy because of its significance for the present ' reac-
tion,' and especially in view of Nietzsche's denunciations, is
DARWIN AND EVOLUTIONARY ETHICS. 205
the stress which Darwin lays upon sympathy. " Nor could
we check our sympathy, even at the urging of hard reason,
without deterioration of the noblest part of our nature. The
surgeon may harden himself whilst performing an operation,
for he knows that he is acting for the good of his patient ; but
if we were intentionally to neglect the weak and helpless it
could only be for a contingent benefit, with an overwhelming
present evil. We must therefore bear the undoubtedly bad
effects of the weak surviving and propagating their kind."
As we have said, Darwin's own interpretation of the moral
standard is not that currently associated with « Darwinism.'
The conception of a purely mechanical process, excluding all
' norms,' is what some find in the evolutionary process as Dar-
win conceived it. The supreme value of force or might is the
lesson which others read in the same process. This makes
strength the only virtue and weakness, of which sympathy is a
fellow, the only unpardonable sin. A third conception is de-
rived from the process viewed as a series of advancing types.
If each lower type finds its meaning in serving as a means for
producing a higher type, then man is no longer to be viewed
as * end in himself.' His end is rather to produce the
' Uebermensch.'
We cannot, of course, discuss these theories within the limits
of this paper. As to the first, it is sufficient to remark that
values are, of course, not to be sought in a process conceived
as ' natural ' in a sense which excludes self-conscious valuation.
To suppose, on the other hand, that the * mechanism ' which
' governs ' in nature excludes the possibility of a consciousness
that could be « normative ' would be to interpret the * continuity '
of nature in a way to exclude totally all variation. To appeal
to a logical value in urging the truth of the doctrine of mechan-
ical evolution, and to use this appeal to deny all ethical valua-
tion is a thinly disguised contradiction. The fundamental points
at issue in the other questions are : (i) Granted the evolution
of ethical values, has the process been so uniform and continuous
that in seeking guiding principles for life it makes no difference
what part of the process we consult? To affirm that such must
be the case would be again to give no place to variation. It
206 JAMES H. TUFTS.
was the merit of Huxley to point out epigrammatically the dif-
ference between the ' ethical,' consciously directed process, and
the ' cosmic ' process prior to conscious activity. (2) Is the
valuation of every man as * an end,' with the corresponding
implication of sympathy, an inherently suicidal moral principle?
Will it, if followed, inevitably destroy all moral values by de-
stroying all the more valuable strains and races? That there
may be developed a science of eugenics is certainly a con-
summation devoutly to be wished, but until our civilization cor-
rects some of the gratuitous evils which it now opposes to
progress, until it plans dwellings, education, and conditions of
work so as to remove the obstacles it now opposes to health and
strength, it would seem that the obvious lines of effort were
close at hand. For Europe and America to remove the de-
generation due to poverty and disease among their own peoples
would seem a more hopeful agency of progress than the ex-
ploitation of weaker races, and if the ' superior' will not continue
their own stock, what will it profit to forbid the inferior to continue
theirs? It would indeed be contrary to the implications of the
evolutionary method to deny the possibility of new variations,
of different standards. But if there is to be any standard at all
it must be based on a common good. And if this is abandoned,
moral values will not be endangered ; they will have already
disappeared.
THE INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON THEORY OF
KNOWLEDGE AND PHILOSOPHY.1
BY PROFESSOR J. MARK BALDWIN,
The Johns Hopkins University -
I.
Under the headings of « instrumental ' and * genetic ' logic 2
the evolution theory has worked its way into the discussion of
the higher processes of thought. The theory that thought is an
instrument for dealing with social and practical situations — for
solving problems of adjustment and truth — has given to discus-
sions of knowledge and reality a new and vital interest. All
knowledge remains experimental until it is confirmed, and it
can be confirmed only by a resort to trial in the domain of its
appropriate application. This leads up to two very important
positions in the newer logic : a view as to the nature of truth
on the one hand, and a view on the other hand as to the nature
of the ' laws of thought,' the so-called categories or ' schemes,'
in which the mind builds up and systematizes its acquisitions.
The theory of truth becomes either one of extreme * Prag-
matism ' or one at least of ' Instrumentalism.'
Instrumentalism holds that all truth is tentatively arrived at
and experimentally verified. The method of knowledge is the
now familiar Darwinian procedure of * trial and error.' The
thinker, whether working in the laboratory with things or among
the products of his own imaginative thought, tries out hypothe-
ses ; and only by trying out hypotheses does he establish truth.
Here Darwinism gives support to the empiricism of Hume
and Mill and forwards the sober British philosophical tradition.
And no one illustrates better than Darwin, in his own scientific
method, the soberness, caution, and soundness of this procedure.
1 Abstract of part of a paper on ' Darwin and the Mental and Moral
Sciences ' prepared by request for the Darwin Celebration of the American
Philosophical Society.
1 See Dewey, Studies in Logical Theory, and Baldwin, Thought and Things
or Genetic Logic,
207
208 /. MARK BALDWIN.
Scientific method, therefore, becomes, when the full implications
of the matter are thought out, the exhaustive epistemological
method ; that is, we must hold that there is no method of reach-
ing results to be called truths, which is not found, when genet-
ically considered, to go back to the fundamental processes of
experimentation. There is no royal road to truth ; no golden
rule of revelation or inspiration by which the philosopher can
deduce the ' universe and the contents thereof.' The ambi-
tious Naturphilosophie of the last century remained barren and
speculative until, through the development of experimental and
evolutionary science, it became Naturivissenschaft.
But what shall we say of the principles of knowledge itself?
Are there no final a priori and absolute tests of truth such as
we are accustomed to find in ' identity,' ' consistency,' and ' suf-
ficient reason'? Are there no constructive categories which do
not themselves owe their establishment to experiment?
As to the categories — here again instrumentalism has its ade-
quate reply ; and its reply is strictly Darwinian. These, too,
it replies, the categories, are principles which have been saved
from numberless possible variations of thought in the course of
racial evolution. They represent selections, adjustments to the
natural situations which have confronted the mind. They are
rules of systematization found useful for thought and experience,
for individual knowledge and practice, and for common social
belief in the vast stretches of history. The mind has built up
a structure, as the body has ; and by a similar method : that of
tentative and experimental adjustment, followed up by the cor-
related organic structure fixed by selection.
It is here that Herbert Spencer's most valuable intuition
appears — a conception to be placed beside that of Darwin's. The
weak point in Spencer's harness, however, was his resort to
Lamarckian inheritance for the fixing of the rib-structures of
mind. But for the theory of knowledge, the result is the same.
The most absolute and universal-seeming principles of knowl-
edge, viewed racially, are ' practical postulates ' which have been
woven into human thought as presuppositions of consistent and
trustworthy experience. They were ' original ideas ' at some
time, found to be useful for the organization of knowledge and
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PHILOSOPHY. 209
for the conduct of life ; and, now, by processes of reflective
abstraction, they are set up as schemes or forms divorced from
the concrete contents which alone gave them their justification
and value, and called « the Categories.'
So far we may recognize the two great conquests of the
instrumental or experimental logic. It holds that all truth is con-
firmed hypothesis, and that all reason is truth woven into mental
structure. These two great formulations are handed over to
philosophy. Both are Darwinian. The first cites the selection
of ideas for their utility in the individual's development ; the
second cites the ' coincident ' racial selection that fixes them in
the constitution of the mind.
But a more radical point of view is possible. What is now
known as pragmatism proceeds out from this point. It is perti-
nent to notice it here, for it offers a link of transition to the
philosophical views with which we must briefly concern ourselves.
Pragmatism * turns instrumentalism into a system of meta-
physics. It claims that apart from its tentative instrumental
value, its value as guide to life, its value as measured by utility
seen in the consequences of its following out, truth has no further
meaning. Not only is all truth selected for its utility, but apart
from its utility it is not true. There is no reality then to which,
whether humanly discovered or not, truth is still true ; on the
contrary, reality is just and only the system of beliefs found use-
ful as a guide to life.
I wish to point out that, in such a conclusion, not only is the
experimental conception left behind, but the advantages of the
Darwinian principle of adjustment to actual situations, physical
and social, is lost; and if so interpreted instrumentalism de-
feats itself. This appears as soon as we analyze any situation
involving trial and error. Trial implies a problematical and
alternative result : either the success of the assumption put to trial
or its failure. When we ask why this is so, we hit upon the
presence of some ' controlling ' condition or circumstance in
1 The authoritative exposition is James' Pragmatism. I do not hold the
author, however, or any other one writer to the statements made in my text in
exposition of this chameleon-like theory. My full criticism may be found in
the article 'The Limits of Pragmatism,' PSYCHOIXXJICAI, REVIEW, Vol. XL,
pp. 3° ff.
210 /. MARK BALDWIN.
the situation — some stable physical or social fact — whose
character renders the hypothesis or suggested solution either
adequate or vain, as the case may be. The instrumental idea
or thought, then, has its merit in enabling us to find out, to
locate, facts and conditions which are to be allowed for there-
after. These constitute a control of knowledge, a system of
things discovered. Now we may, indeed, say that nothing of
what we think can be considered real except what has been
actually discovered ; but we cannot go on to say that it is the
discovery that makes it real. For if that were true what ac-
count could we give of this painstaking and often most labori-
ous process of gradual correction and proof? — what account,
that is, of the ' control '?
I know there are ways of replying to this criticism — ways
of reducing the environment and its controlling facts to the level
of postulates of earlier personal or racial experience. But while
not finding these replies effective, I may simply say — confining
the discussion to the Darwinian text — that the method of selec-
tion by trial and error requires that relatively greater stability,
fixity and permanence be in the ' control ' conditions, in the envi-
ronment, and finds the genesis of truth in the gradual checking
off of hypotheses under this more stable control. This supports
instrumentalism, but it does not support pragmatism. I may
'bring about' reality apparently without this external control,
by * willing to believe ' in something for which I have no proof
or reason, in cases in which the sort of event willed — as for ex-
ample, some one's else conduct — may be conditioned upon my
act of will. But nature does not take to suggestions so kindly.
The will of a general may stimulate his troops and so bring to
him the victory he believes in ; but such an act of the general's
will cannot replenish the short supply of powder or shells, on
which the issue of the battle perhaps more fundamentally de-
pends.
In one other respect the newer view is transforming the
theory of knowledge, a respect in which it shares with political
and social science the impulse of Darwinism. I refer to the
point of view from which the unit of knowledge, as of practice,
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PHILOSOPHY. 21 1
is no longer to be found in an isolated and self-regulating indi-
vidual. Covering both the logical and the political aspects of
the topic by the single term * Community,' I may discuss the
topic under that heading.
Community.1 Work in social psychology has greatly modi-
fied the notion of the individual. The individual is found to be
a social product, a complex result, having its genetic conditions
in actual social life. Individuals act together, not alone — col-
lectively, not singly. In short, the selective processes that have
molded the individual, both racially and in his personal develop-
ment, have turned on collective utilities. When interpreted in
the political sciences this discovery shatters, at one blow, the his-
torical theories of individualism, which make such motives as
personal contract, individual competition, etc., the fundamental
springs of human conduct, in its social relations, and the sources
of government. Instead of a social contract, there is a social
growth ; the only contract is the one-sided one that assigns the
too-individualistic thinker or actor to the jail or the asylum. In-
stead of government only with the ' consent of the governed,'
we have government by the few or by the many with or without
the consent of the rest. In this, and in the more * socialized '
view of social competition and rivalry, and in the new view of
social transmission considered as a process which largely re-
places physical heredity, both in its content and in its method,
we find summed up the enormous debt that political science,
together with the other social sciences, owes to researches carried
out in the spirit of the selection theory.
In the theory of knowledge the same general truth appears,
and it is for this reason that I place the two cases together. In
the social sciences and in the theory of knowledge * community '
or some equivalent term is henceforth to be the watchword.
In the theory of knowledge it appears in the social refer-
ence that all knowledge implies. It is now the problem to find
any knowledge that is psychologically private, not to find
knowledge that is common and public. Individual judgment
1 The two sorts of ' community ' indicated in what follows are worked out
by the present writer in detail elsewhere ; that of the social life in Social and
Ethical Interpretations (4th ed., 1906) and that of knowledge, in Thought and
Things, Vol. II.
212 /. MARK BALDWIN.
and sentiment is everywhere rooted in social life — in educa-
tion, tradition, convention — and it becomes a problem of
knowledge, as it is of ethics, to show how it is possible to * be
a Daniel,' and 'to stand alone.' The result is that the sub-
jectivistic theories of knowledge, like the individualistic theories
of political science, are soon to be laid away in the attics where
old intellectual furniture is stored. The knower does not start
out in isolation and then come to some sort of agreement
with others by * matching up ' his world of independent sensa-
tions and cognitions with theirs. On the contrary, he starts
with what his and his neighbor's experience in common verify,
and only partially and by degrees does he find himself and
prove himself to be a relatively competent independent thinker.
The theory of the ' communities ' or common validities of knowl-
edge, and that of the corresponding ' communities ' or common
interests of society, is our new possession ; and we owe them
to the genetic researches which the Darwinian spirit and method
have inspired.
II.
In coming to a conclusion as to the influence of Darwin's
thought on philosophy, we should first sum up the general
results of Darwinian views in the different branches of knowl-
edge with which philosophy deals. If we look upon philosophy
as many do as simply the broadest and most unified view that
we can get of the world as a whole, it is evident that our task
will be to set together the results of the more partial disci-
plines, the results reached, that is, by the sciences of fact and
value. This leads to the body of theory embraced by philos-
ophy. Accepting this as a general statement of the problem of
the content or matter of philosophy, a second great question
remains in the determination of philosophical method. I shall
take up the latter question first.
Philosophical Method. In an earlier address, in which the
history of psychology was briefly outlined,1 I took occasion
to point out that an epoch in the progress of that science was
inaugurated with the absorption of Darwin's point of view ; and
1 Address prepared for the St. Louis Congress of Arts and Science, printed
also in the PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol. XII., pp. 144 ff.
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PHILOSOPHY. 3»3
this because a revolution was produced in psychological method.
Psychology has always been the vestibule, as it were, to phi-
losophy, and advance in the latter never gets far beyond
that of the former. So when psychology adopted seriously a
naturalistic and positivistic method — the method, that is, of the
positive sciences of nature — philosophy had also to recog-
nize the generality of these points of view. Philosophical
truth, like all other truth, must be looked upon as truth about
nature — the nature of the world and the nature of man — and
its progress is secured through reflection exercised under the
control of the positive instruments and methods employed in
those subjects. Purely deductive, .speculative and personal
systems of philosophy may be useful as gymnastics and profit-
able as sources of individual fame ; but the genuine progress
of philosophy is to be looked for only through those methods
of confirmation and proof which control the imagination and
permanently satisfy the logical and other demands of common
reflection. There may be different philosophies, but like
rival scientific hypotheses, each must show the array of facts,
aims, motives, values, etc., that it can explain better than any
other.
In these directions Darwin has strongly influenced modern
philosophical thought ; so strongly that the historical issues of
philosophy have taken on new forms, which, in the new names
now in vogue to describe them, are unfamiliar to the old-school
philosophers. Instead of the problem of * design,' we now
have discussions of 'teleology'; instead of the doctrine of
« chance,' we now have the 'theory of probabilities'; instead of
' fatalism ' and ' freedom,' we now have ' determinism ' and
« indeterminism ' variously qualified ; instead of ' God,' we hear
of 'absolute experience'; instead of * Providence,' of 'order'
and 'law' instead of 'mind and body, 'of 'dualism or monism.'
Not that all this shifting of emphasis and change of terms are
due to Darwin ; but that they are incidents of the newer antith-
eses current since the mind has been considered as subject to
' natural law,' and the world, including God and man, as
common material for science to investigate. Scientific natu-
ralism and positivism are methods of unlimited scope ; and the
214 /. MARK BALDWIN.
question of philosophy is, what does the whole system of things,
of external facts and of human values alike — when thus in-
vestigated — really turn out to mean ?
I may illustrate this by considering in more detail a central
problem — one common to biology and psychology alike, and one
whose answer colors the whole of one's philosophy. It is the
old problem of ' design ' debated in biology under theories of
' special creation ' and < chance,' and now discussed, alike in
biology and psychology, in the form of questions of * vitalism *
and ' teleology.' In what sense, if any, is the world — and in it,
life and mind — an ordered, progressive and intelligible whole?
And if it is such in any sense, how did it become so? Is it due to
intelligence? — and if so, whose intelligence? The most violent
controversies aroused by the publication of the Origin of Spe-
cies were let loose about this question. Darwin's opponents said
' chance,' ' fortuitous or spontaneous variation,' was to take the
place of Providence, intelligent creation, God. If there be no
rule of selection and survival save that of utility, and no source
of the useful save the overproduction of chance cases, where is
the Guiding Hand ? Does not Natural Selection dispense with
a ruling Intelligence altogether?
We have only to realize the present-day statement of this
problem to see the enormous range of concession to naturalism
the theory of Darwin has forced. Instead of ' chance ' in the
sense of uncaused l accident we now have the notion of ' proba-
bility,' a mathematically exact interpretation of what is to super-
ficial observation fortuitous and capricious ; and instead of an
interfering Providence, we have universal order born of natu-
ral law. And it is within such conceptions as these, now
taken as common ground of argument :, that the discussion of
teleology is conducted. The world is no longer thought of as
a piece of mosaic work put together by skilful artificers — as the
old design theory looked upon it — but as a whole, a cosmos of
law-abiding and progressive change. A philosopher who knows
his calling to-day seeks to interpret natural law, not to discover
1 Darwin himself described ' spontaneous variation' in these words (Descent
oj Man, ed. cit, p. 49) : ' provisionally called spontaneous, for to our ignorance,
they appear to arise without any exciting cause.'
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PHILOSOPHY. 215
violations of it. The violations, if they came, would reduce
the world to caprice, chance and chaos, instead of providing a
refuge from these things.
So Darwin's view, while giving a ' black eye,' so to speak,
to theories of chance and special creation, both equally desul-
tory, capricious and lawless, replaced them once for all with
law. It indicated the method of operation by which the pro-
gressive forms of nature are evolved in stages more and more
fit and reasonable. The operation of such a law is no less and
no more * rational,' no less and no more ' fatalistic,' no less and no
more ' atheistic ' than that of any other law physical or mental.
What law — meaning simply what regular method of change —
is operative in nature, and what its range, as compared with
other such laws — this is entirely a question of fact, to
be determined by scientific investigation. And how far the
method or law called by Darwin « natural selection ' goes, what
its range really is, we are now beginning to see in its varied ap-
plications in the sciences of life and mind. It seems to be —
unless future investigations set positive limits to its application
— a universal principle ; for the intelligence itself, in its pro-
cedure of tentative experimentation, seems to operate in accord-
ance with it.
Again, it is in connection with this question that we are begin-
ning to see how intelligence may, and does, work within the limits
of law, effectively doing its work without violating the universally
natural order. The statistical treatment of cases by newer
methods l shows that events due to intelligence, on the one
hand, and those observed to fulfil law on the other hand, fit
into the same curves of distribution, if a sufficiently large num-
ber of cases of each be taken for treatment. Events involving
social and voluntary factors — as crimes such as suicide,2 the size
of families,3 each for itself depending upon the intelligent and
free choice of individuals — when taken in the mass, follow
the same laws of number and variation as do purely physical
events in which there is no element of conscious determination.
If this is so, we need not suppose any essential difference in
1 See especially K. Pearson, The Chances of Death, Vol. I.
*See the works of Morselli and Durkheim, on 'Suicide.'
'See Pearson, loc. tit.
2l6 /. MARK BALDWIN.
the results in the long run ; but may take our choice as between
a purely mechanical interpretation of all the cases, or an inter-
pretation of them all as involving a deeper and more immanent
principle which works by both methods. In other words, it is
not a teleology of the human type, working individually and
tentatively against nature, that our philosophy must recognize,
but mind in the larger sense of a principle whose mode of
operation is in and through the reign of natural law.
One other instance may be cited to show how the evolution
theory is serving to bring about a revision of the older philosophi-
cal conceptions. The notion of ' cause,' as held by the earlier
more dualistic philosophies, has been transformed with the ad-
vent of a broader naturalism.
Cause. — An objection to Darwinism, in the early days, was
one that held in effect that natural selection left no place for
' freedom ' or intelligent initiation, but reduced all the sequences
of nature to the level of * cause and effect ' interpreted, as a
mechanical principle of the transfer of physical energy. It
was held that all movement, the entire dynamic and genetic
aspect of nature, became merely a series of compositions and
recompositions, of transformations and retransformations, of a
certain physical or energetic stuff. 'Matter in motion' was
the formula of ' cause and effect.' On further consideration,
however, we begin to see how to make articulate our protest
against this most superficial generalization. ' Cause ' is a
broader conception than ' energy.' Only when quantitatively
considered are natural sequences exhausted by merely mechan-
ical change. Qualitative differences are as universal and
natural as are quantitative identities. There must be a revision
of the notion of causation, to allow for the actual growth proc-
esses of life and mind, for the new modes of qualitative appear-
ance that the genetic or developmental series of changes show.
All vital, mental and social series of changes are of this sort:
they are really dynamic, genetic. A psychological effect is
not ' equivalent ' to its antecedent conditions, considered as its
cause, nor in any way identical with them in a quantitative sense.
In what sense can we say — and still be intelligible — that a
INFLUENCE OF DARWIN ON PHILOSOPHY. 217
choice is equivalent or equal in energy to the antecedent motives
of the agent? In what intelligible sense can an organic adapta-
tion, upon whose utility the subsequent cause of evolution pos-
sibly depends, be said to be a mere transformation, equivalent in
energy to the mechanical forces that condition it ? We are really
dealing here with a different sort of change — with genetic
change, with growth and development. We are dealing with
qualitative, not quantitative conceptions ; with modes of appear-
ance and organization, not with units of energy ; and we must
recognize the making of new modes of quality in every genetic
movement of nature. Nature achieves novelties; there is, quali-
tatively speaking, more in the effect than there is in the cause.
This position is forced upon us by the radical acceptance of
evolution. Spencer tried to subject the whole evolution move-
ment to the mechanical conception of causation ; and he failed
most signally. He interpreted all development in terms of suc-
cessive transformations of energy. Thus life and mind alike
were eviscerated of all their richer significance. So soon, how-
ever, as we give genetic change a significance as fundamental
as mechanical change, we reach a very different result. Every
genetic change ushers in a real advance, a progression on the
part of nature to a higher mode of reality. Actually new
things — novelties — are daily achieved in life> mind and
society. Mechanical causation, physical energetics — these are
the poorest and least interesting facts of nature. They are instru-
mental conceptions, fruitful in science ; but along with the
processes which these concepts generalize, go the dynamic,
genetic, e/olutionary modes of condition and consequent,
which are equally actual and, in a comprehensive philosophy,
infinitely more far-reaching and significant.1
The objection, then, that Darwinism reduces life and mind
to physics, is quite beside the mark. On the contrary, the very
radicalness of Darwin's conception, in forbidding any compro-
mise with vitalism, accidentalism and all forms of obscurantism,
has compelled the recognition of progressive movement, of real
1 This point of view, developed by the writer under the heading of ' Theory
of Genetic Modes' (Development and Evolution, Chap. XIX.) is brilliantly and
forcefully presented by Professor H. Bergson in his work Evolution Creatrice.
2l8 /. MARK BALDWIN.
evolution, as of the profoundest essence of nature. The reign
of physical science and of mechanical law over the scientific
and philosophic mind is over now, at the opening of the twentieth
century. We have been hypnotized by the term « energy ' long
enough.
These illustrations may suffice to show with what stones
philosophers are laying the foundations of a new idealism. I
may not now develop the matter further, since my topic has
its limits in the influence of Darwin. But it is easy to see that with
these two conceptions — an immanent principle of change, issuing
in modes of reality which are progressively more and more sig-
nificant for the demands of intelligence and life — the way is
open for an interpretation of the world in terms of an organi-
zation of which progressive self-integrating experience is the
type.
It is sufficient in this place to have shown that, in the work-
ing out of such an interpretation, the naturalism of Darwin has
been and will be an important factor.
If, in conclusion, a brief statement were called for of the sort
of influence Darwin has exercised on modern thought, I should
sum it up in somewhat the following terms : Darwin gave the
death-blow to uncritical vitalism in biology, to occultism in
psychology, and to mysticism and dogmatism in philosophy.
Each of these, alike progeny of the obscurantism of dogmatic
thought, has in turn yielded before the conception of natural
law and order embodied by Darwin in the theory of natural selec-
tion. This theory turns out to be not merely a law of biology
as such, but a principle of the natural world, which finds appro-
priate application in all the sciences of life and mind.
N. S. VOL. XVI. No. 4. July, 1909.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH.
BY PROFESSOR H. A. CARR,
The University of Chicago.
Visual illusions of movement in a lateral direction, i. e.t in
some direction at right angles to the line of sight, have often
been the subject of psychological description and experimenta-
tion. Comparatively speaking, we may say that the number of
discussions of such illusions is legion. Illusions of distance are
numerous and often commented upon in the literature dealing with
the various criteria of visual depth. By ' illusions of distance '
are meant those phenomena wherein objects appear to be located
nearer to, or farther away from, the observer than they actually
are, e. g., the apparent nearness of a mountain peak in a rare
and clear atmosphere. Illusions of movement in depth, *'. £.,
where the object appears to move nearer or farther away, are
but rarely met with in the literature. Whether this be due to
the fact that such phenomena are rare, have escaped notice, or
possess but little psychological value, I do not know. Certain
it is, however, that such illusions are rarely mentioned.
In an experimental attempt to evaluate the influence of bright-
ness in the perception of depth, Ashley l found that a change
in the brightness of an object mediated a consciousness of a
third dimensional movement. Increase of brightness caused
the fixated object to appear to move toward the observer, while
a decrease in brightness produced an apparent movement in the
opposite direction.
When two similar objects are binocularly combined and their
distance apart is gradually altered while the observer attempts
to maintain unity of vision, a pronounced third dimensional
1 PSYCH. REV., Vol. V., p. 595.
219
220 H. A. CARR.
motion on the part of the combined image is noticeable. This
fact has been known for some time. By using a pair of com-
pass points, one can give a ready demonstration of the influence
of convergence and accommodation in the perception of distance.
Dr. Bell has recently utilized this principle in studying the
relative importance of accommodation and convergence.
While looking at a near object, a faint suggestion of forward
and backward movements can be produced by successively in-
tercepting the vision of one eye by a screen. The illusion is
supposed to be due to a consequent alteration in the degree of
convergent tension. A short account of the phenomenon is
given by James.1
Third dimensional movements may be produced by either
monocular or binocular eye closure, by finger pressure on the
eyeballs, by a slight traction on the eyelids, and by forcefully
opening the eyes to their widest extent. The presence, direc-
tion and extent of the illusory movements due to these causes
vary with individuals, the position of the eyes in the socket, etc.
The phenomena have been described and discussed by the writer
in a previous article.2
In fainting spells, receding movements of the visual field
occur with some subjects. Just preceding the loss of conscious-
ness, perceived objects are seen to move backward to far distant
positions. A similar illusion is said to occur during the loss
of consciousness in etherization. James 3 quotes from M. Taine
an account of an insane patient describing a similar receding
illusion : " Objects grew small and receded to infinite distances
— men and things together. I was myself immeasurably far
away. I looked about me with terror and astonishment ; the
world was escaping from me. ... I remarked at the same
time that my voice was extremely far away from me."
Illusory movements in depth are voluntarily produced by
some people. The gift is quite rare however. Eight such
cases have been described by the writer in previous articles.4
1 James, Principles of Psychology, Vol. II., p. 92.
2Carr, ' A Visual Illusion of Movement during Eye Closure,' PSYCH. REv.r
Mon. Sup., Vol. VII., No. 3.
3James, Ibid., I., p. 377.
* PSYCH. REV., Vol. XIII., p. 258, and Vol. XV., p. 139.
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 221
With these people the illusion frequently occurs involuntarily
in their normal experiences.
In some experiments involving binocular combination of
slightly dissimilar figures, Hyslop l found that the depth loca-
tion of the different parts of the perceived object could be varied
relative to each other by changes of the attention. This is
similar to the customary illusions of reversible perspective which
are also examples of depth illusions.
The above list of illusions represents those cases which the
writer remembers having noticed in the literature. It makes no
pretence at exhaustiveness, nor at systematization in a general
explanatory scheme. Given the possibility of such a variety of
these illusions under special conditions, it would seem that
some of them should also occur with some people in their every-
day experiences. With this idea in mind, the writer made in-
quiries of the members of his classes in psychology for all cases
of third dimensional illusions occurring at any time during their
life. All persons responding were interviewed and subjected to
a thorough cross-examination on the nature and conditions of
the phenomena reported. Sometimes it developed that the oc-
currences described did not belong to the class of illusions de-
sired, or else that the experiences had been so vague, fleeting,
or rare, that the observer's memory of the phenomena was too-
indefinite and hazy in character for a trustworthy account.
Such cases have been eliminated ; all of the accounts given
below represent cases where memory was definite and precise
on the points mentioned. Each account represents all the
illusions of this general kind which the observer can remember
having experienced at any time during his life, with a general
expression as to their frequency of occurrence, their nature and
conditions.
In a series of classes comprising 350 students, I found 58
persons who have experienced involuntary depth illusions at
some time of their lives. Five of these persons also possessed
complete voluntary control over the phenomena and their ex-
periences have been described previously. Of the 53 per-
sons with whom the illusion only occurred involuntarily, I
1 Mind, Series I., Vols. XIII. and XIV.
222 H. A. CARR.
have been able to obtain detailed descriptions from 48, and
these cases form the subject-matter of the present paper. Since
the illusions have occurred involuntarily, any experimental in-
vestigation of the phenomena has been impossible. There is
no uniformity in these experiences as regards their nature or
conditioning circumstances. Hardly any two are exactly alike
in all of their features. An attempt will be made to convey an
adequate conception of the illusions by classifying them on the
basis of a series of rubrics, giving detailed descriptions for pur-
poses of illustration. In conclusion the significance of the illu-
sions in regard to the perception of depth will be considered.
1. Character of the Illusion. — The illusion may belong to
one of four types : (a) An illusion of pure distance. The ob-
jects appear to be located at varying distances from the subject
but no movement is perceived. An object is first seen at its
true distance, is next perceived close in front of the eyes, and is
then seen at a very remote position. Twelve cases belong to
this type (see VIII., XIII. and XX.). (3) Illusions of pure mo-
tion. Objects are perceived moving in a certain direction with-
out any apparent change of location. They move but do not
traverse space. This type is represented by two cases (see IX.).
(c) Illusions of movement involving a change of location. The
objects seem to move toward or away from the subject, both the
motion and the change of location being distinctly perceived.
Twenty-five persons reported this type of experience (I., II.,
IV. and V.). (d) Eight persons reported a combination of the
first and third types. The object first moves away from its true
location and is perceived in some remote position. After a short
time the object suddenly appears back in its original location
but this change of position involves no sense of motion (VI.,
XI. and XX.). The reverse case occurs in which an illusion
of pure distance is succeeded by a return illusion involving the
perception of movement (XVII.).
2. .Extent of Visual field Involved. — (a) Twenty-four per-
sons reported that the illusion involved all objects in the visual
field and that no contraction of the field was apparent. (£)
With five subjects there was an invariable peripheral contrac-
tion of the field and the illusion involved all visible objects in
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 223
the central portion. The degree of contraction varies with the
subject and with the different experiences in the same subject.
The periphery is perceived as black, as a homogeneous light gray
haze, or it may be a mere void without sense content (XL), (c)
Six persons were uncertain as to the periphery ; some thought
that it remained visible but were uncertain as to its participation
in the illusion ; others were uncertain as to its visibility. All
were merely confident that the fixated objects were subject to
the illusion (V. and XXI.). (d) With fourteen subjects the
peripheral objects remain visible and stationary at their true posi-
tion, while the central portion of the field participates in the
illusion. It may occur that the fixated object moves in relation
to other objects in the line of sight. As an example, we may
cite an illusion that occurred only in church, wherein the
preacher was perceived to move back through the wall and
remain visible in this position for some time. The illusion
occurred frequently and this striking feature caught the sub-
ject's attention (XIX.). With one subject, the central portion
of the field remained stationary while only certain parts of the
periphery participated in the illusion (VIII.). With one sub-
ject the illusion sometimes involved the whole and sometimes
only a part of the visual field. This fourth type of experience
is illustrated by the following account :
I. The illusion was noticed twice one year ago. It occurred both times
under the same circumstances. The observer was looking down a street which
ended a block away ; a row of houses formed the background at the end of the
street. The illusion occurred during day time and the weather was bright and
clear. The observer was standing talking to and looking directly at a companion
but a short distance away. Soon this person began to move slowly backward
down the street until she reached the background of houses at the end, and
then slowly came back to her original position. The movement in both direc-
tions was distinctly perceived. Duting the illusory movement there was no
vagueness of outline or contour, no blurring or confusion of features ; the person
observed seemed distinct and substantial in character during the illusion. The
subject felt that she continued to look directly at the person during the move-
ment ; she did not seem to be looking beyond her. The subject has noticed the
confused vague appearance presented by persons when one looks beyond them,
but in this case the person did not present this appearance. The perceived
object moved in relation to surrounding objects ; there was no movement of the
visual field as a whole. The person decreased in size during the backward
movement. She appeared about one half of her normal size when at the end
of the street. The size increased during the forward return movement. This
224 H. A. CARR.
change of size was very evident and caught the observer's attention at once.
The perspective appearance of the street came out distinctly during the illusory
motion, i. e., the houses at the end of the street seemed to be smaller than the
houses nearer by in proportion to their distance. The scene looked the way it
would need to be drawn.
The illusion was at no time subject to voluntary control in any respect. At
my suggestion the observer has since tried to repeat the illusion under similar
circumstances, by voluntarily imagining such movements, but she was unsuc-
cessful in obtaining the slightest suggestion of motion (also see VIII., XII.
and XIX.).
3 . Kind of Images Involved. — (a) With forty- two people
the illusion involved normal perceptual objects. (£) There are
five cases in which the illusion occurs in dreams. With four
people the experiences occur only in dreams. Such a case is
described in No. III. (c) There are three cases wherein halluci-
natory images are involved. The following account represents
the type :
II. The subject is slightly neurasthenic and hypochondriacal. During con-
ditions of feverish semi-delirium, indistinct and confused masses of imagery
emerge in the darkness and vibrate back and forth rather slowly between the
eyes and remote positions. After a time the images disappear.
(d) One subject reports that the illusion sometimes refers to
visual images under normal conditions. This experience (IV.)
is described elsewhere in detail.
4. Direction of the Illusion. — Three types occur : (a) Illu-
sion of increased distance alone. Objects move to, or appear at,
more distant positions and then return to their normal location.
Twenty-one illusions belong to this type (I., IV., VI. and
VIII.). (#) Illusions of decreased distance. This type is re-
ported by twelve persons. The illusion is confined wholly to
positions in front of the real location of the object (X.). (c)
With eleven subjects the illusion involves space on both sides of
the real position of the object. The field may move forward
close up before the subject's eyes and then back to the apparent
distance of the horizon, whence it returns to its normal location
(V., VII. and XVII.). (d) It is impossible to classify six cases
in the above respect, inasmuch as the illusion occurred in
dreams or involved hallucinatory images.
5. Character of the Movements. — (a) With seventeen per-
sons the illusion is always vibratory, /'. e., the objects contin-
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 225
uously move backwards and forwards between two positions
until the illusion is voluntarily destroyed or until it ceases of its
own accord. The amplitude of these vibratory movements may
vary from a few inches up to the full extent of visible space.
The following account is illustrative :
III. The illusion occurs only in dreams. A confused dense mass of imagery
slowly takes shape in the surrounding darkness, and begins to vibrate back and
forth over an apparent extent of 100 feet. After four or five complete vibrations,
the images disappear. The visible mass becomes larger as it approaches and
smaller as it recedes. The experience has been repeated quite frequently.
(6) With twenty-three subjects the objects move to, or appear
at, some definite position and remain there until the illusion is vol-
untarily destroyed by some means or until it disappears involun-
tarily. The following description will serve as an illustration :
IV. The illusion with this subject presents several features. All visual
objects suddenly recede to the apparent distance of the horizon and remain in
that position five to ten minutes. At the end of this period they return to their
original position. This return movement is very slow at the beginning, but it
gradually increases in rapidity, so that the latter phase of the movement is quite
fast. If the subject closes her eyes while the objects are remaining at their dis-
tant position, she cannot even imagine those objects to be located except at
this far distance. The illusion also occurs for visual images, when she is think-
ing of objects in visual terms either with closed eyes or under conditions of a
high degree of abstraction from things of sense. These imaged objects behave
as do the perceptual objects described above, with the exceptions that the back-
ward movement is much slower, and the objects remain for a longer time at the
distant position. The forward return movement is similar in rapidity to the
perceptual case. The illusion also occurs in dreams, the movements being simi-
lar in character to those of the imaged objects.
In all cases the motion in both directions is an actual experienced reality.
In no case is there the least voluntary control of the phenomenon. The subject
is absolutely helpless as to initiating, stopping, or modifying the course of the
illusion in any way. Objects and images decrease in size in proportion to the
amount of backward movement and grow larger again on their return movement.
The objects do not present any confusion of outline or blurring of features, nor
do they become doubled. Persons were generally the objects of attention when
the illusion occurred, and the subject maintains that their features remained
normally distinct in every respect during the illusion. These experiences have
occurred on an average of twice a year ever since she was in the upper grammar
grades in school, a period of ten years. She cannot remember their occurring
before this time, nor does she know of any sickness or abnormal experience at
this time that may have been their cause. The illusion has occurred at all
times of the day and with all conditions of illumination, but apparently only
under conditions of a rather pronounced fatigue. The experience is always very
unpleasant, giving that far-off lonesome feeling of being helpless, and isolated
226 H. A. CARR.
from the world. She generally struggled desperately to bring back the objects
to their natural position, but she always failed to move them in the least. With
the movements of imaged objects with closed eyes, she can always tell before
hand by some vague feeling that the illusion is soon to occur. She could not
describe this anticipatory feeling except that it was disagreeable. There was no
anticipation of the illusion except in this one case. The subject has never worn
glasses nor had her eyes examined, though they seem to be very susceptible to
fatigue.
(c] The illusion is irregular with five persons. The objects
move to, or appear at, a certain position, remain there stationary
for a time, undertake another excursion with a stationary period,
and so on, until the illusion disappears. As the best descrip-
tion of this type, we give the following account :
V. The illusion has only occurred while reading. The letters suddenly
move to some new position and remain there perfectly stationary for a time.
They now jump to a new position, remain stationary, and again undergo move-
ment. These irregular transitions in distance may persist during the entire
period of reading. The direction of the jumps is irregular and the letters may
move either in front of or behind their real location. The letters not only seem
to move but they also look nearer or farther away. The letters become larger
as they approach and decrease in size as they recede. No change in distinct-
ness or vividness is involved. The illusion may occur shortly after beginning
to read. Fatigue and steady fixation are not essential to its occurrence. The
phenomenon occurred much more frequently in early life than in late years.
At first it interfered with reading to a considerable extent but its disturbing in-
fluence was soon neglected. The subject has never experienced any trouble with
her eyes. The subject could not remember with any degree of confidence as to
whether the printed characters alone moved, or the illusion embraced the book
and surrounding objects. She is under the impression that the illusion was
confined to the letters.
6. The extent of the illusion varies markedly according to
the subject, though it is more constant for any one person. With
23 persons the illusion is medium in length — 10 to 50 ft. The
extent is less than this with eleven persons and greater with ten.
The smallest illusions represent vibratory movements of but a
few inches, while often the images move from the apparent
position of the horizon clear up to the face. The rapidity of
the movements also is subject to wide variations.
7. The frequency of these experiences varies between wide
limits. Several persons have experienced the illusion but once.
Others have experienced them on an average of three or four
times per month throughout their lives. There is practically
equal distribution as to frequency and infrequency of occurrence.
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. "7
8. Size of Objects. — The nearest approach to uniformity in
these experiences is in regard to the changes of size of the images
in relation to the direction of the movement, (a) The usual
law is that objects grow larger as they approach the observer
and decrease in size as they recede. The change of size seems
proportionate to the distance according to the law of perspec-
tive. Thirty subjects reported this fact, (b] Fifteen persons
were uncertain upon this point. This is due to the facts that
the extent of the illusion was very small, or that the illusion
occurred so rarely or so early in life that their memory for de-
tails is defective, (c) With three subjects the objects became
smaller as they approached the observer. This occurred only
for those illusions which involved some patterned object. This
is the usual result for binocularly combined images of regularly
patterned objects, and hence these cases are not to be regarded
as an exception to the above rule, (d) One subject reported
that the images did not change in size. She is very positive in
this regard and her statements are to be regarded seriously in-
asmuch as the illusion has occurred very frequently all her life
and the movements were slow, realistic and of great extent. A
detailed description follows :
VI. With this subject1 the whole visual field moves backward until the ob-
jects reach the approximate distance of the horizon. The movement varies in
rapidity for the different cases ; sometimes it is extremely rapid and sometimes
very slow, but as a general rule its velocity appears to be that of a brisk walk-
ing rate. The objects do not change in size, neither do they become blurred in
appearance nor confused in outline. After this receding movement, one of
three things occurs : (i) the objects remain visible and stationary at their dis-
tant position. This occurs but rarely ; (2) the objects seem to move back into
alight hazy cloud and disappear from view as though swallowed up by a dim veil-
like mist. This distant background of haze remains in view during the con-
tinuance of the state; (3) all consciousness of visual space disappears at the
termination of the receding movement ; the subject becomes temporarily blind.
This latter condition obtained in the majority of the experiences. The illusion
terminates in either of the three cases by the objects suddenly appearing back
in their original positions. They never move forward even in the case where
they remain continuously visible ; they always move away from the observer,
but get back again without motion.
This subject is afflicted with hysteria and the illusion is an invariable ac-
companiment of an incipient trance which has been of very frequent occurrence
^his experience has been described more fully in the Journal of 'Abnormal
Psychology, Vol. IJ., p. 260.
228 H. A. CARR.
from the ages of six to twenty-two years. It has occurred at all times of the
day and with all conditions of illumination in the room. The phenomenon has
occurred only while the subject has been lying down for rest during a condition
of marked fatigue and while the subject is in a state of complete mental and
physical relaxation. These conditions, however, do not necessarily produce the
phenomenon. The subject possesses no voluntary control over the course of the
phenomenon. During the illusion she is always afflicted with a complete paral-
ysis of all voluntary movements. The experience was always intensely
frightful.
9. Distinctness of Visual Objects. — (a) No change in the
distinctness of visual objects was reported by nineteen persons.
These subjects are usually very positive in this regard. The
images generally retain their normal vividness and realistic
character. Persons are often the object of attention in these
illusions, and it is maintained that every detail of their features
remains in distinct view. Cases I., IV., V. and XIII. furnish
illustrative examples, (b] Fourteen people were unable to give
information on this point for various reasons : The mass of
imagery was generally indefinite in contour and surface when
it was of hallucinatory origin. It was impossible to answer the
question in some cases because the illusion occurred during a
condition of dizziness. Defective memory was responsible in
six cases, (c) Fifteen people reported changes of distinctness
of varying degrees. Theoretically, these changes may be due
to an (i) imperfect ocular adjustment with a consequent blur of
surface and contour, or (2) to a decrease of intensity resulting
in mere vagueness. (3) An irregular decrease of intensity
might result in a confusion of surface and contour which could
not be discriminated from that resulting from imperfect ocular
adjustment. It was extremely difficult to obtain from the sub-
jects so definite and accurate a description of this aspect of the
experiences as to allow a confident opinion in every case as to the
essential conditions. Both conditions obtained, though the blur
characteristic of defective adjustment seems to be the more
frequent. The following cases illustrate each of these types :
VII. With this subject the illusion assumes diverse forms. Sometimes upon
suddenly glancing at distant objects, they are seen located only a foot in front
of her eyes. She does not first perceive them at their distant position and then
see them move nearer ; they are immediately perceived in front of her eyes, so
close that she feels that she can reach out and touch them. They now begin
to move away to their natural position, and they may occasionally move on
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 229
beyond it, this being followed by a return forward motion. When first seen,
the objects are very blurred and the subject judges as to their real position by
the degree of distinctness secured.
Again, she may first see the objects at what she regards as their true posi-
tion, and they begin to move shortly after noticing them. They may also be
first seen at their real location but are already in motion when first noticed.
This motion may be either forward or backward in direction, will continue for
some time, and then become reversed in direction, the objects returning to
their true positions. On the return movement, the objects occasionally move
beyond their real location for a short distance and thus undergo a second re-
turn. If the subject catches the objects on their first movement, she can vol-
untarily reverse the direction of motion ; for example, if the objects are first
seen moving forward, she can stop this and send them backward even far be-
yond their true distance. She knows of no conditioning circumstances which
will explain why objects are seen moving forward in one experience and back-
ward in another. She is also unable to describe in any way her method of vol-
untarily effecting this change of direction.
When objects are moving rapidly forward when first perceived and her vis-
ual attention is rather widely dispersed, she feels that the whole world is col-
lapsing from every side toward her as a center, as if to crush her. All objects
from above and below, from right and left, as well as those directly in front,
are swiftly rushing toward her as a common focus, a condition which is de-
scribed as being terrifying. Under these conditions she always is afflicted with
the unpleasant sense of being crushed and overwhelmed in the onrushing
avalanche of the universe.
In all of the illusions the movement refers to the entire visual field. The
objects always change in distinctness, but she has never noticed any doubling.
The maximum of distinctness is the criterion by which the real location of the
field is determined. The size of the objects varies in proportion to their appa-
rent distance from the observer. The illusion has occurred at all periods of her
life, at any time of the day, and under various conditions of illumination. It
has been more frequent out of doors during the daytime, and while looking at
relatively distant objects.
VIII. The illusion is one of distance and occurs only during a condition of
mental abstraction and steady fixation. The fixated portion of the field remains
clear cut and distinct, and at its proper distance, while other objects in the
field become faded and vague, and appear far away. For example, she has
seen the knob of a door remain distinct and at its true position while the re-
maining portion of the door almost faded away and was perceived far beyond
the plane of the knob. The illusion occurs very infrequently and is destroyed
by head or eye movements.
The subject also experiences a similar auditory illusion which is rather
unique. Sounds vibrate quite rapidly between their true location and some
very remote position. The apparent loudness of the sounds varies with the dis-
tance, becoming fainter as they recede. The intensity variations are very
striking and were described as 'pulsations ' and as ' rising and receding swells
of sound.' The illusion occurs only during a condition of mental abstraction.
Sometimes she can produce the auditory illusion at will by throwing herself
into the proper mental condition. The experience occurs involuntarily quite
frequently.
230 H. A. CARR.
10. Essential Conditions of the Illusions. — (a) With six
persons, the illusion is apparently due to external conditions
alone. For example, when two persons experience the illusion
simultaneously, it is evident that the determining conditions
presumably lie in the objective situation.
IX. The following illusion was observed but once, but by two persons
simultaneously. It occurred in the hilly country of the Peekskill region. The
time was about three o'clock in the afternoon of a bright sunshiny day in the
spring, about a half year before this account was related to the writer. There
were two parallel ranges of hills, the upper part of the more distant one being
seen over the top of the nearer one. The two observers were walking along a
valley road which ran parallel to and near the first range. Looking over this
first hill they could see the green but hazy top of the second range set off
strongly against the bright background of sky. Under these conditions the
second range of hills and the sky background were perceived to be continuously
moving backward, although the first range appeared stationary. The apparent
motion was so real and striking in character and persisted so continuously
that they both noted it independently and discussed the illusion at the time.
Although the range kept moving backwards continuously, it did not appear to
get any farther away ; it seemed to remain at the same distance. After turning
away their eyes and again fixating the distant hills, the illusory motion still
persisted. It continued while walking along the road and persisted while this
particular conformation of the landscape obtained. It was judged that the
illusion was visible for at least ten minutes. Both observers had been in this
particular situation before but had never seen the illusion until this time. My
informant has good eyesight, does not wear glasses, and has never experienced
any other illusory movements in depth.
(£) Internal conditions alone are apparently responsible for
the illusion with twenty-four people. As an example the fol-
lowing case is self-evident :
X. The illusion occurs only during an incipient psychic epileptiform seizure
generally induced by overeating. The seizure involves a feeling of faintness,
dizziness and extreme muscular weakness. The illusion occurs in every such
attack. Consciousness is confused, the visual field becomes blurred, hazy and
misty so that objects are hardly recognizable. The whole field moves forward
from three to five feet and keeps slowly vibrating between this position and its
real location throughout the attack. Objects become larger as they approach
the subject. Keeping the eyes closed is the only means of getting rid of the
illusion. With the exception of the attacks the subject has enjoyed unusually
good health. No eye troubles have been experienced.
(c) With three persons, the descriptions furnished no clue as
to the essential conditions of the phenomenon, (d] The neces-
sity of both internal and external conditions was evident with
sixteen persons. It may be that the objective conditions are
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 231
necessary only because they invoke the central conditions which
are the immediate causes of the phenomenon. The following
account furnishes an illustration :
XI. The illusion occurs only while listening to some public speaker in a
church or hall. It has been noted most frequently in church. It may occur
either at night or during the day, but its frequency has been greater in the day-
time. All of the peripheral field surrounding the fixated person becomes black.
The size of the central visible portion varies in the different experiences. This
visible portion now moves back to some remote position and stays there until
the illusion is destroyed by rapid winking or eye movement. The fixated object
now merely appears back in its natural position and the peripheral objects once
more become visible. During the illusion, the visible objects become smaller
but remain clear cut and distinct in every way. Often a reddish-yellow flame
or halo is perceived to cover and surround the speaker as though radiating out
from his body in every direction. (This peculiar effect was present in a similar
experience with another subject. Possibly this phenomenon may be similar to
the colored aura of theosophy. ) This illusion has occurred quite frequently
throughout the subject's life. A condition of steady fixation and thorough ab-
sorption in the speaker are necessary to effect the illusion.
ii. Nature of Objective Conditions. — With eleven subjects
the illusion occurs only while fixating some person. With eight
of these, the fixation of some public speaker or singer in church,
theater or large hall is an indispensable condition. No. XI. is
an illusion of this type. The illusion occurs only while reading
with two persons (see V.). Fixation of some checkered or
regularly patterned object is necessary with three people. The
illusion occurs more readily during the daytime with four per-
sons and artificial lighting is essential with five people. The
distance of the fixated object from the observer is of some in-
fluence upon the occurrence of the phenomenon in twelve cases,
but this factor possesses no influence with fifteen persons. The
direction of the illusion occasionally depends upon the distance
of the fixated objects (XII., XIV. and XIX.). The 'clothes-
line illusion ' was experienced by three people : While looking
up at the line, it is perceived to move forward toward the sub-
ject, though the remaining objects in the field are stationary.
The subject experiences difficulty in locating the line with her
hands. With one subject the illusion was experienced only
while observing some person walking ; this illusion is of suffi-
cient uniqueness to merit a complete description :
XII. The illusion occurred quite frequently during the period from ten to
232 H. A. CARR.
fifteen years of age. It was first noted while observing a man holding his hands-
behind his back and walking towards the observer. The subject perceived the
motion in the wrong direction, *. e., the person appeared to be walking away
from the observer instead of towards him. After this experience, the same illu-
sion occurred involuntarily, although the person observed did not hold his
hands in an unusual position. The reversal of direction might occur several
times in the same experience. For example, a person was first perceived as
walking toward the subject, but suddenly he appeared to be walking away, and
this direction of movement was again supplanted by the forward direction,
although the subject knew that the person observed was continuously moving
in the same direction. Sometimes the conditions were such that the subject
was confused as to which was the real direction of movement and which was the
illusory one, until the person observed had come into a situation where the
direction of motion could be inferred.
The subject developed voluntary control over this illusion, being able to see
a man walk in either direction, or to change the perceived direction as often as
desired. The subject was unable to describe his method of control except that
he merely thought of the direction desired and the perceptual experience was
modified accordingly at once.
The illusory movement was just as real and striking in appearance as a simi-
lar normal perception. The illusory motion made the person observed appear
to be getting nearer or farther away as the case might be. These experiences
occurred some ten years ago and the subject's memory was uncertain on many
points which might have shed some light upon the phenomenon. The illusion
only occurred while observing men walking either directly away from or toward
the observer. The person must be from 150 to 400 feet distant and appear
against an open background. The subject is under the impression that the
illusion occurred either early in the morning or on dull days. He cannot recall
whether it was necessary to fixate some definite portion of the body, e. g., the
moving legs. Since the period in which the illusion occurred, the subject has
tried to initiate the phenomenon, but such attempts have been unsuccessful.
With the exception of a slight astigmatism, the subject possesses good eyesight.
12. Nature of the Subjective Conditions. — (a) Steady fixa-
tion was essential with seventeen persons. In these cases eye
movements destroy the illusion (see VIII., XI. and XIII.). Six
of these people report that the illusion occurs only after a pro-
longed period of fixation. On the other hand steady fixation is
not essential in thirteen cases for the illusion persists no matter
where they look (see X.). The question of fixation is not per-
tinent when the illusion occurs in dreams or when the moving
objects are hallucinatory images. With the remaining subjects
it is impossible to determine from their accounts as to the neces-
sity of steady fixation.
(#) Concentration of the attention, complete mental absorp-
tion or a dreamy mental abstraction are mentioned as essential
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 235
conditions by nineteen people. The writer attempted to dis-
criminate between those cases in which there was a mental
absorption or concentration of the attention upon the moving
visual object, and those in which there was a mental absorption
along ideational lines involving an abstraction from the visual
experiences. It was generally impossible to be confident that
the subjects grasped the distinction, and as a consequence we
have grouped these cases together. In all probability the
mental abstraction from things of sense is of major importance.
Such a condition is illustrated in the following account :
XIII. The phenomenon occurred most frequently when talking to people.
All objects in the visual field suddenly appeared much farther away than their
actual distance. This apparent distance varied in the different experiences.
Objects did not move away, but merely looked farther away. The objects re-
mained clear cut and distinct in outline and detail ; there was no vagueness,
blurring, or confusion. The subject felt that she still continued to fixate the
same object without eye movement in spite of its apparent greater distance from
her. All objects looked much smaller when in this distant position. The illu-
sion persisted until the eyes were rotated when the field again appeared in its
normal position.
This phenomenon occurred very frequently during youth and its frequency
has been gradually decreasing with age. It occurred at night and in daytime,
and with all conditions of illumination, though it was more frequent with poor
illumination. The subject lacks any direct mental control over the phenom-
enon ; she experiences a feeling of utter helplessness and detachment from the
world, a sort of hypnotic fascination, which she can shake off only by a volun-
tary rotation of the eyes. She was very much frightened at the first of these
experiences, before she had learned how to discontinue them at will. The illu-
sion comes on gradually but unexpectedly, and it takes forceful possession of
her. A state of dreamy absent-mindedness and steady fixation is favorable to
the oncoming of the illusion, and the subject has been able occasionally to pro-
duce the experience by voluntarily throwing herself into this mental condition.
The subject has never worn glasses nor had her eyes examined by an ocu-
list. Neither have they ever given her any trouble.
(c) Fatigue is mentioned as an essential condition eleven,
times. The fatigue is generally quite pronounced, occasionally
to the point of complete exhaustion. It is general, involving both
mind and body (IV. and VI.).
(d) Ocular Defects. — (i) About 80 per cent, of the subjects
do not wear glasses. The ocular conditions of the majority of
these are unknown, though no eye troubles have been experi-
enced. Six persons have experienced slight troubles and four
234 H. A. CARR.
have had their eyes examined by oculists who pronounced them
free from ocular defects (XVIII. and XXII.). (2) Of those
wearing glasses, the illusion is as likely to occur with seven
people while the glasses are worn as when they are discarded.
One person reported that the illusion occurred only after the
habit of glasses had been begun. The use of glasses entirely
stopped the occurrence of the illusion with one person and
largely minimized its frequency in another case (XX.).
(e) Period of Life. — (i) With twenty-seven people the illu-
sion has occurred all through their life as far back as they can
remember with practically the same degree of frequency for all
periods (VII., XI. and XIX.). (2) With six persons the phe-
nomenon has occurred too infrequently to allow of any state-
ments as to the possible influence of any special period of life.
(3) The influence of special periods is evident in fifteen cases.
Six people report that the illusion has occurred in all periods
but that its frequency has been much greater at some definite
period (XIII. and XIV.). With nine persons the phenomenon
occurred only within some definite period of life (XII.). With
eight people the illusion ceased entirely or diminished in fre-
quency at the end of childhood (13-14 years of age). Three
people report no cessation of frequency until after the adoles-
cent period (20 years). The illusion began after maturity with
three subjects and at the beginning of adolescence in one case.
(_/") Abnormal conditions are essential to the experience with
eight people. These conditions include neurasthenia, fevers,
attacks of faintness and dizziness, incipient delirium, and three
cases of epileptiform seizures involving complete aboulia.
(g") Miscellaneous. — The illusions occur during a constrained
eye position, while lying down, immediately after arising in the
morning, and upon opening the eyes after some period of clos-
ure. Such conditions are rare and exceptional.
13. Subjective Attitude toward the Phenomenon. — Often-
times the experiences are described as being terrifying or ex-
tremely disagreeable. This attitude generally occurs in those
cases wherein the illusion is not in the least subject to voluntary
control. When the field moves to remote positions, the feeling
is one of utter helplessness, lonesomeness and isolated detach-
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 235
ment from the world. When the field moves up very close to
the subjects, they experience the anticipatory feeling of being
crushed and overpowered, or crowded and suffocated. Eleven
subjects report that the illusion is always frightful and extremely
disagreeable (IV., VI. and VII.). The majority of subjects
report no unusual affective or emotional reactions to the illusion.
The feeling of subjective fixation of the objects without eye
movement during the illusion is frequently commented upon by
the observers (I. and XIII.).
14. Voluntary Control. — Cases of complete control over
this illusion have been reported. By complete control is meant
that the subjects can initiate and destroy the illusion, and alter
the direction and the speed of the movement at will. In these
involuntary cases partial control of the phenomenon occasionally
occurs, (a) With twenty people no control at all is possible in
either initiating, destroying or modifying the course of the illu-
sion. The phenomenon suddenly occurs and persists for some
time in spite of all attempts to escape it. Nos. IV., VI. and X.
are illustrative examples, (b) Fourteen people can voluntarily
destroy the illusion by some means. Of course it may be pre-
vented by keeping the eyes closed until the temporary seizure is
over as in No. X., but this can hardly be termed a volitional
control. The means employed to destroy the illusion are eye
or head movements, rubbing the eyes, or rapid blinking. In
these cases steady fixation is an essential condition and the con-
trol is indirect, i. e., destruction of the necessary conditions.
Nos. VIII., XI. and XIII. are illustrations, (c) Five people
can sometimes initiate the phenomenon indirectly by voluntarily
producing the mental attitudes which constitute its essential con-
ditions. These conditions are steady fixation and mental ab-
straction while listening to people (see XIII.). In all prob-
ability more people could influence the illusion by these means
if the attempt had been made, (d) Six people can directly in-
fluence the course of the illusion by mental effort of some sort.
Two of these cases have been described (VII. and XII.). The
direction of the illusory motion is changed though the subjects
could give no adequate account of their volitional method.
Three subjects report that they can force the field back to its
236 H. A. CARR.
true location by an effortful concentration of the attention upon
the fixated object. In their own words, they look ' real ' hard
at the displaced images. The following illustrates this type of
experience :
XIV. Backward movements occurred when fixating relatively near objects.
The movement referred to the entire visual field. The objects moved away to
a position two or three times the distance of their actual location. During the
illusion her mind was in a state of abstraction and the objects remained at their
distant position during the existence of this mental condition. The field moved
back to its normal position as soon as the subject concentrated her mind strongly
upon the fixated objects. During the receding movement objects became
smaller, blurred and indistinct. She never noted that they became double. The
illusion often occurred while reading, the book being the moving object. She
was asked to converge behind a printed page and to note the blurring and the
doubling of the print. The effect was described as similar to that occurring in
the illusion while reading. Consequently, it is possible that doubling did occur
in the illusion but that she failed to notice it. These illusions have been of
frequent occurrence throughout her life, but they were more frequent during
childhood. During the day their greatest frequency was in the evening as
twilight came on, though she has experienced them in the bright sunlight.
The subject has also frequently experienced the forward illusion, *. e., the
case where the field moves forward to positions nearer than its real location,
but she is not certain as to the conditions under which this type of illusion oc-
curred. She related the two following experiences which are illustrative of the
class : (i) While a child, she was playing in a barn and ran to an open door in
the hay loft and looked down at the ground beneath, some ten or twelve feet
distant. Soon the ground moved nearer, became larger and somewhat indis-
tinct, until it appeared to be but a mere step down. The appearance was so
realistic that she lightly jumped down with perfect confidence and as a conse-
quence fell and hurt herself severely. She remembers with distinctness her
surprise and astonishment during the fall at her disillusionment. (2) She was
looking down over a steep precipice some two hundred feet high. The ground
beneath at which she was looking was covered with large boulders and occa-
sional shrubbery. These objects moved much nearer, became larger and
blurred. She could voluntarily send them back to their proper distance by
looking at them 'real' hard. This backward motion was perceived. She
judged of the real distance by the clearness and distinctness of the images.
This illusion has occurred several times under the same conditions.
The subject has noticed that her eyes become easily fatigued when observ-
ing distant objects. She is not conscious of strain or fatigue when observing
relatively near objects. She has never worn glasses, nor had her eyes examined.
One subject reports that a receding illusion occurs under a
condition of relaxation. The field is brought back to its normal
position by a strong effort of will which involves a convergent
movement of the eyes. Upon relaxing the effort, the receding
illusion again occurs. By voluntarily alternating the effort and
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH.
the relaxation, the subject can make the field vibrate back and
forth at will (see XVIII.).
The extent of movement possible is slight in some of the
voluntary illusions previously described. Hence there is no
marked line of division between the involuntary and the volun-
tary illusions. We have cases ranging all the way from no con-
trol whatsoever to absolute control.
15. In those experiences in which blurring occurs, in which
the movements are large in extent, continuous and irregular in
direction, and in which there is some degree of voluntary control,
we find that the subjects generally rely upon the criterion of the
' maximum of distinctness ' in judgments as to the objective
position of the field. Nos. VII. and XIV. are illustrative
examples. This feature was reported in one of the voluntary
cases previously described.
16. Causes. — It is evident that we must assume the existence
of several effective causes operating in various combinations in
order to explain the diverse results. It is not our purpose to
attempt an explanation of every particular illusion from a priori
grounds. Rather we shall describe several illusions in which
the effectiveness of known distance criteria is evident ; we shall
sketch the theoretical possibilities and limitations of these factors
and seek to determine to what extent they may singly or in com-
bination explain the various illusions.
(a) Lenticular Disturbances. — Lenticular disturbances are
apt to be correlated with convergent changes, but we are inter-
ested in the effectiveness of this factor irrespective of the results
of convergent changes which may or may not accompany it.
That adjustments of the lens may be an efficient cause of these
illusions is an assumption borne out by the previous studies on
the voluntary illusions of depth. The evidence in favor of such
a causal factor in the involuntary illusions is most pronounced
in the following experience, the facts of which have been
kindly furnished by Professor Colvin.
XV. Mr. O. informs me that the illusion occurred only at twilight, while
he was resting in a room of average dimensions. At these times, objects at the
farther end of the room apparently receded to a position three or four times
their actual distance. The illusion was never experienced out of doors or in a
bright light. Relaxation seemed to be an essential condition. Objects did not
238 H. A, CARR,
become double. By an effort of will, the objects could be brought back to their
normal location, though voluntary initiation of the phenomenon was impossible.
The illusion was experienced frequently, in fact every time the above conditions
were reproduced. He is under the impression that the convergence tended to
change during the illusion.
The subject was increasingly afflicted with cataracts from twelve to twenty-
four years of age, when he was successfully operated upon. The series of oper-
ations consisted of needling with subsequent absorptions. The illusion oc-
curred only during this period, and most frequently during the three or four
years preceding the operations. The phenomenon was less frequent after the
first operation ; it continued more or less until the lenses were entirely destroyed,
but it has not occurred since that time, a period of twelve years.
The above facts are not as definite and conclusive in every
particular as one might wish, but they indicate that the lens in
some -way is responsible for the illusion in question.
So far as a priori possibilities are concerned, the lenticular
principle will explain the illusions with the following exceptions :
(i) Those cases in which there is no blurring or confusion of
the objects. This limitation is self-evident. (2) Those cases
in which some object moves in relation to other objects in the
field, when these latter remain in distinct view, e. g., Nos. I.,
VIII. , XII. and XIX. It is evident that the illusion should
involve the whole visual field, or at least, that part well within
the field of attention.
The fact of blur and confusion does not necessarily prove
the existence of lenticular disturbances, for these characteristics
may be the result of convergent changes or of an irregular
decrease of intensity. The fact that the maximum of distinct-
ness is often relied upon in judgments as to the proper location
of the field is certainly more consonant with the lenticular
hypothesis than with any other (VII. and XIV.).
(b) Intensity Changes. — It has been experimentally demon-
strated that changes of brightness may mediate a sense of third
dimensional movement. Backward movements result from a de-
crease of intensity, and an increase of brightness is interpreted
as a forward movement. The influence of such a factor is
evident in No. VIII. Here the fixated object is stationary,
vivid and distinct. Evidently no defective ocular adjustment
occurs. Peripheral objects fade away almost to the point of
invisibility and recede to remote positions. In the auditory
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OP DEPTH. 239
illusion belonging to the same subject, the intensity changes
accompanying the illusion are striking Both illusions are for
increased distance alone, which facts relieve us from the
assumption that there may be an increase of the intensity beyond
the normal. The assumption of a decrease of intensity is a
logical one, inasmuch as the illusion occurs only during a con-
dition of steady fixation and mental abstraction.
Granted that such changes may be an efficient factor, there
are several reasons for supposing that these variations are pres-
ent in many of the experiences. A decrease of brightness dur-
ing steady fixation of an object is easily demonstrated by ex-
periment. With monocular vision, the fixated object may totally
disappear. Therefore there is good reason for suspecting the
existence of this factor in every experience wherein steady fix-
ation and mental abstraction are essential conditions. The fact
of peripheral contraction of the field in six cases (see XI.) is an evi-
dence of such decrease. In No. VI., the visual field at the end
of its receding movement may totally disappear, or the objects
may be swallowed up in a dim veil-like mist. Decrease of
brightness is a natural result of defective accommodation, and
there is a possibility that the blur or confusion so often reported
is a result of an irregular decrease of intensity. A number of
people use the terms ' hazy ' and * vague ' as well as * blurred *
in describing these characteristics. Again it is illogical to sup-
pose that a decrease of intensity does not occur because it is not
noticed, inasmuch as it is possible that the intensity changes are
not perceived as such simply because they are interpreted in
distance terms.
So far as possibilities are concerned, this principle may be
assumed as an effective factor with the following limitations :
(i) It cannot explain those illusions in which the objects move
to positions in front of their real location, for this would neces-
sitate the unjustifiable assumption that the objects may become
brighter than normal. (2) Such an explanation is not the most
probable one in case of the regular vibratory movements, the
illusions of patterned objects, and when the distance of the fix-
ated object from the observer possesses some determining influ-
ence. (3) The factor possesses the greatest probability when
240 H. A. CARR.
the field recedes and remains stationary at a remote position and
when steady fixation, fatigue and abstraction are essential con-
ditions.
(c) Contraction of the Field. — It has been suggested that
the contraction of the field is a causal factor ; that the field as a
whole looks farther away because it has become smaller, on the
principle that changes of size are often interpreted in distance
terms. This hypothesis is plausible, but it is open to objection
for various reasons : (i) It would be applicable to illusions of
increased distance alone, wherein the whole visible field is
involved and no confusion of images occurs. Vibrating move-
ments would be difficult of explanation. (2) The peripheral
contraction was reported by only six persons, though it may
have occurred with a number of the uncertain cases. The appli-
cation of such a principle is thus very limited on both factual
and theoretical grounds. (3) One of the six persons (XVI.)
reports that the illusion at first occurred in conjunction with the
contraction and that the use of glasses prevented the illusion,
although the phenomenon of contraction persisted. This fact
disproves the hypothesis for this subject at least. (4) With a
second person, the use of glasses greatly minimized the fre-
quency of the illusion. This indicates at least that some other
causal factor is present, and there is evidence that convergent
changes are the effective agency in this case (XX.). (5) Another
of the six cases (XVII.) presents features not compatible with
the hypothesis ; blurring and confusion of images are present
and the objects move to positions in front of their real location.
(6) Only three of the six experiences possess characteristics
which are in no way antagonistic to the theory (see XI. and
XXII.). There is some evidence that convergent changes are
the effective factor in illusion XXII., and the other two cases
•might be explained by the convergent hypothesis. (7) Several
people have informed me that they frequently experience a
peripheral contraction during steady fixation, but that the phe-
nomenon has never been accompanied by an illusion of depth.
The effectiveness of the factor has no experimental verifica-
tion ; it possesses factual and theoretical limitations as a general
explanatory principle ; there are a number of cases which demon-
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 241
strata its non-effectiveness ; there are only two definite cases in
which it has a potential validity, and these two illusions can be
explained as readily in other terms.
XVI. The illusion with this subject occurs while listening to a speaker in
a good-sized room, as a church or lecture hall, and after she has become rather
absorbed in the discourse. It never occurs under other conditions. At first all
objects in the visual field except those attended to disappear in blackness ; these
peripheral objects do not move but merely fade away. The speaker and the
few surrounding objects well within the focus of attention remain visible, set
in the surrounding mass of blackness. The size of this part of the field remain-
ing visible varies with the different experiences. These objects now begin to
move backward generally about fifty feet. After a short time the objects appear
back in their normal position without movement. During the receding illusion,
objects become proportionately smaller and very confused and blurred in ap-
pearance and contour. The speaker's voice sounds farther away, becoming
weaker and harsh. The experience is decidedly agreeable, giving the subject
a feeling of quiet restfulness and impersonal detachment from the world.
There is no direct voluntary control over the phenomenon ; it can be volun-
tary initiated to some extent by cultivating the proper mental attitude, an atti-
tude which the subject cannot describe. However, this same feeling can some-
times be induced without the resulting illusion. The phenomenon has occurred
in the daytime as well as at night. It began in early life as far back as she can
remember. One such illusion per month represents its average frequency.
The phenomenon persisted up to six years ago (19 years of age), at which time
the subject began to wear glasses. Since then she has occasionally attempted
to repeat the phenomenon by throwing herself into the proper mental attitude,
but she has never been quite successful, though the illusion has often com-
menced in an incipient fashion. Even yet all objects in the visual field sur-
rounding the object of attention readily disappear after a few minutes of fixa-
tion. The subject possesses good voluntary control of convergence ; she can
voluntarily converge either in front of, or behind, a wall ten feet distant.
XVII. The experience occurs while listening intently to a speaker. The
periphery of the field becomes void of all sense content. The speaker ap-
pears faraway, much smaller, and presents a blurred appearance. After some
moments, the person is perceived to move forward, and become larger and
more distinct. The forward movement often carries the object to positions in
front of its true location. The illusion has occurred very frequently through-
out life and under all conditions of illumination." Its frequency has been greater
during daylight. A condition of steady fixation and mental absorption is essen-
tial, and the experience can be terminated by head or eye movements. The
phenomenon can be voluntarily produced by effecting the necessary conditions
of fixation and absorption.
(d) Convergent Changes. — Convergence is a known criter-
ion of depth, so there is no reason for rejecting such an explana-
tion. The presence and effectiveness of convergent changes is
indicated by the illusions of patterned objects. Two of the three
242 H. A. CAR JR.
subjects have noted a tendency for objects to become doubled
during steady fixations. One of the persons can voluntarily
produce the phenomenon by converging in front of the patterned
object. These three cases belong to a special class.
(e) Binocular Parallax. — This factor is operative in a num-
ber of experiences, five of which will be described. It is
closely associated with the principle of ' convergent changes *
inasmuch as deviating eye movements are a necessary condition
for its effectiveness. Consequently, we are concerned in the
following illustrations in establishing the presence of convergent
changes as a condition of the illusion, though not as the im-
mediately effective factor. The relation of binocular parallax to
the convergent changes will be depicted later.
XVIII. The illusion occurs while observing patterned objects and also while
observing persons. The following description refers to the latter case. The
illusion is one of increased distance alone, and motion in both directions is per-
ceived. She cannot recall as to whether the periphery of the field participated
in the illusion, although she isconfident that it was vaguely visible. The objects
remain stationary for some time at the end of the receding motion. During
either the receding or the return movement, the images are confused and
blurred, but clear up and become normally distinct and definite while they are
stationary at either their real location or at some remote position. Objects
become smaller as they recede. The illusion occurs during a condition of steady
fixation, mental abstraction and relaxation. Fatigue is not necessary. While
the objects are at a remote position, they can be voluntarily brought back to
their real location by an effort of will which involves eye movement. This
movement is not rotary, for fixation is not disturbed. The subject can distinctly
remember the feeling of eye movement, but she cannot recall as to whether it
was divergent or convergent in nature. The receding illusion again occurs
when the effort is relaxed. By alternating the effort and relaxation, the field
has been made to vibrate back and forth. The experience has occurred fre-
quently throughout life. Her eyes have been examined by oculists and pro-
nounced perfect. She has never noted any tendency in normal conditions for
objects to become doubled while fixating them.
The subject's statements as to the presence of convergent
movements and the blur with the subsequent clearing-up process
were made without any suggestive questions on my part and she
knows nothing as to theories of space perception. Evidently, no
accommodatory disturbances occur because the images become
clear-cut even in displaced positions. The fact of blur during
the movement with a consequent clearing-up process while the
field is stationary is explicable on the convergent hypothesis.
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 243
Granted that convergent changes of some sort condition the illu-
sion, it is to be noted that the displaced objects do not neces-
sarily become doubled or blurred. Ordinarily, doubling of
images occurs in defective binocular adjustment because dis-
parate retinal areas are stimulated. Thus the convergent theory
will necessitate the further assumption that sometimes retinally
disparate processes may allow of unitary vision, and it may be
that the translocation in depth is due to this very fact, viz., the
unitary combination of images due to disparate retinal processes.
XIX. The illusion occurs only in churches, theaters and lecture halls,
especially when the distance of the fixated objects is considerable (at least
fifty feet). Only the objects of attention move ; the periphery remains visible
and stationary. The fixated objects also may move in relation to other objects
in the line of sight, e. g., a lecturer on the platform moves up to the wall be-
hind him ; in fact, sometimes the wall appears blurred and hazily transparent,
and the person is perceived to move through the wall and to remain visible for
a short time at some distance beyond it. The receding motion is quite slow ;
the return forward movement is rapid and it occasionally carries the objects
past their real positions, this being followed by the necessary return. The mov-
ing objects become smaller and blurred during the receding motion. The sta-
tionary objects of the periphery remain the same size and are blurred to some
extent especially around the edges. The illusion occurs involuntarily during a
condition of dreamy abstraction and the objects tend to remain at their distant
position during this condition. The illusion may be voluntarily terminated by
blinking or eye movements. The moving objects often become double at the
end of the receding movement ; this condition has but a momentary duration ;
the images snap together and immediately start forward on the return move-
ment.
This doubling always terminates the illusion immediately. Often the
doubled images do not remain parallel, e.g., the images of a person may be
separated by a space of three feet at the top but only a foot at the bottom. The
doubled images are blurred slightly, one always being much more blurred than
the other.
The illusion has occurred quite frequently, as far back in life as the subject
can remember, and it shows no sign of abatement in frequency of late years.
It is experienced in the daytime as well as at night. A condition of dreamy
abstraction with a rather pronounced ocular fatigue due to prolonged steady
fixation seems to be an essential condition. Her eyes are not strong. Her left
eye was forced from its socket when she was a child and for some time there-
after she was afflicted with convergent strabismus. Steady fixation is difficult
and fatiguing. All objects more than twenty feet distant tend to become doubled
homonymously when fixated, especially during conditions of relaxation, i. e.,
the eyes normally tend to converge in front of the object.
The following facts indicate that the receding illusion is con-
ditioned by a convergent movement of the eyes. There is a
244 ff- A. CARR.
normal tendency to converge in front of relatively distant ob-
jects (over twenty feet) during relaxation and steady fixation,
and all these conditions are essential to the illusion. Fixation
is difficult and fatiguing. The subject was once afflicted with
convergent strabismus. The doubling that often occurs in the
illusion must be due to convergence because it would be impossible
for objects fifty feet distant to become separated a foot by a
divergent movement of the eyes. The fixated object may move
in relation to other objects in the line of sight, e. g., the speaker
moves through the wall behind him ; this phenomenon is hardly
explicable in other than convergent terms. Accommodatory
disturbances are probably present inasmuch as the doubled
images are blurred : this result may be due to the fact that
they are perceived through the wall, but this is rather im-
probable in view of the fact that both images are not equally
blurred. The stationary periphery is blurred, but this may be
due to the doubling. Inasmuch as the doubling invariably de-
stroys the illusion, it may well be argued that convergence can
hardly be a cause. This conclusion is possible, but not neces-
sary. As a temporary hypothesis, the following is suggested
which is entirely consonant with all of the facts : that both
convergent and accommodatory disturbances are present but that
convergence is of major importance. The eyes converge in
front of the fixated object so that disparate retinal areas are ex-
cited. Most of the visual objects become doubled and blurred
and are normally located. Owing to the extreme concentration
of attention, the objects in the focus are kept combined and a
more remote location in depth is necessary to effect this result.
The eyes may converge to such a degree that binocular com-
bination is no longer possible and hence the images separate.
This separation now stimulates a divergent movement of the
eyes, which once more unites the images and brings them back
to their normal location.
XX. In the following case, the illusion occurs while listening to speakers
at some distance from the subject, and it involves the whole visual field. The
field moves backward and remains at some remote position. The phenomenon
is destroyed by sudden eye or head movements and the field merely appears
back in its normal position. All objects become smaller. The periphery be-
comes z^rydim and blurred, but it does not totally disappear. The central por-
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 245
tion remains clear and distinct. Steady fixation is not a necessary condition.
Mental abstraction is essential. The illusion occurs more frequently in the day-
time. The period of greatest frequency was between the ages of eight and four-
teen years. The subject is astigmatic and near-sighted. The use of glasses has
greatly minimized the frequency of the experience. There is a marked tend-
ency for all objects to become double during conditions of relaxation and ab-
straction. Tests demonstrated the existence of a divergent tendency while fix-
ating near objects (less than ten feet), and a convergent tendency for relatively
distant objects. Since these tests were made, the subject reported that she ex-
perienced a forward illusion while conversing with a person some five feet dis-
tant. In other respects the experience was similar to the receding illusion
described above.
There is no direct evidence that convergent changes occur
during the illusion, but there is proof that such changes tend to
occur in the mental conditions essential to the production of the
illusion. As in the preceding case, the backward illusion is
associated with convergent movements, and in addition we find
a forward illusion connected with the divergent tendency.
Again, the periphery becomes blurred, but the fixated central
portion remains clear-cut and distinct. Evidently no accommo-
datory disturbances are present.
XXI. This illusion is one of distance without any perception of motion. As
to the periphery of the field, the subject has no memory either of its visibility or
its participation in the illusion. The fixated object is always a person at a dis-
tance of at least ten feet. The illusion is vibratory. Objects appear on both sides
of their real position, though the receding illusion is of the greater magnitude.
The initial illusion is always a receding one, and the objects appear slightly in
front of their real position only in the return illusion. Objects become smaller
as they recede. The images are always blurred and generally they are slightly
doubled. The tendency to double is always present throughout every illusion,
and this tendency must always be resisted with effort. This effort is described
as a muscular strain in the orbicular region. When the effort to maintain
unitary vision is unsuccessful so that marked doubling occurs, the illusion dis-
appears.
The phenomenon has occurred frequently throughout life. The only essen-
tial condition is a prolonged steady fixation of some person, involving a high
degree of mental abstraction and concentration of the attention. The doubling
tendency after a few minutes fixation is present in normal vision, /'. e., when
the illusion does not occur. Continual effort is necessary to maintain unitary
vision. This effort is the same as that described in the illusory experiences.
Tests demonstrated that the tendency was convergent in nature, i. e., resulting
in homonymous doubling, and that it occurred for objects situated at a distance
of more than eight or ten feet.
Again, we have doubling occurring during the illusion. Too
great a separation of the images destroys the phenomenon. The
246 H. A. CARR.
marked separation possible shows that the eyes converge in front
of the objects. In normal experiences the eyes tend to con-
verge in front of the fixated object when it is situated eight to
ten feet distant. The illusion occurs only for objects at a dis-
tance of at least ten feet.
XXII. The illusion occurs while listening to public speakers or observing
a play at the theater. The visual field contracts to about one half its size. The
periphery becomes a light gray hazy mass, often suffused with a reddish-yellow
light. The illusion is one of pure distance, no movement being perceived. The
visible portion of the field alternates continuously between its true location and
more distant positions. The change of location is instantaneous, without break
of vision. Objects decrease in size in proportion to their apparent distance from
the observer, but they remain normally distinct. The illusion has occurred but
rarely and only within the last few years. Artificial illumination, a prolonged
steady fixation, and a thorough mental absorption are essential conditions.
Oculists have pronounced the subject's eye to be free from optical defect.
Weakness of the external recti is responsible for a slight muscular strain.
There is a strong tendency for fixated objects — even relatively near objects —
to become doubled. This tendency is oftentimes very difficult to overcome.
Tests demonstrated that this tendency is convergent in nature, a result which is
consonant with the reported weakness of the external recti.
In the above experience we find associated a weakness of
the external recti, a normal convergent tendency, mental absorp-
tion as an essential condition, a receding illusion and distinct-
ness of the visual objects.
These five cases offer presumptive evidence in favor of the
suggested hypothesis : (i) There is direct evidence as to the
presence of eye movements during the illusion in three cases.
(2) There is also indirect evidence in four cases, inasmuch
as there is a natural tendency towards doubling in the
mental conditions essential to the illusion. Similar direct and
indirect evidence as to the presence of eye movements during
the illusion is furnished by one experience, a description of
which has not been given. (3) In four cases the convergent
tendency is associated with the backward illusion, and the
forward illusion is once correlated with a divergent tendency.
(4) A marked doubling tends to destroy the illusion in two
experiences. (5) The images remain distinct with three persons.
(6) Concentration of attention is necessary for the illusion, and
it may be assumed that unitary vision resulting from disparate
retinal stimulations may occur only under this condition.
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 247
This hypothesis makes two assumptions which may be re-
garded as questionable : (i) Whether unitary vision may some-
times result in case an object stimulates non-corresponding
retinal areas, and (2) whether this unitary combination ever
does involve an unusual depth location. The questions are
mooted ones, but probably the best opinion is in favor of the
affirmative. The writer subscribes to the affirmative position
for two reasons: (i) The main motive underlying the conten-
tion that unitary vision involves only corresponding retinal points
in a strict mathematical way, seems to be the attempt to stand-
ardize visual processes according to mathematico-optical ideals.
(2) The assumptions are supported by several experimental
facts. The experiments described by Hyslop1 best serve our
purpose. If the two large circles in Figs, i or 2 are combined
by divergence or convergence so that they fall upon correspond-
ing retinal areas, it is evident that the two smaller circles can-
not stimulate corresponding areas because they are not concen-
FIG. i. FIG. 2.
trie with the larger circles. Yet it is possible to combine
simultaneously in unitary images both the larger and smaller
circles, at least so far as casual perceptual results are concerned.
Again, it is to be noted that divergent combination of Fig. i,
and convergent combination of Fig. 2, produce the following
results : The similar smaller circles stimulate non-corresponding
areas in such manner that normally they would be perceived as
homonymous images, and that the unitary image is located
behind the plane of the large circle, the degree of its remote-
ness being conditioned by the extent to which the stimuli deviate
from corresponding points. Convergent combination of Fig. I
and divergent combination of Fig. 2 give these results : The
smaller circles, if not combined, would be perceived as heteron-
ymous images, and their unitary image is projected forward
lMind, Series I., Vols. XIII., p. 499, and XIV., p. 393.
248 H. A. CARR.
in proportion to the degree to which their stimuli deviate from
corresponding areas. Thus a forward depth displacement re-
sults from uniting heteronymous images, while a backward dis-
placement is correlated with the unitary combination of homon-
ymous images. We are interested for the present in these
results merely as statements of fact , and not in their explanation.
Such factual results in this experiment are exactly identical
with the assumptions underlying the explanation of the above
illusions : Convergence results in a backward illusion, but con-
vergence produces homonymous doubling. Divergence is as-
sociated with the forward illusion, but divergence produces
heteronymous doubling. The maintenance of unitary vision,
under these conditions which usually result in doubling, is
secured by a depth displacement whose direction depends upon
the kind of doubling and whose amount corresponds to the size
of the deviating eye movement.
It is to be noted that the eye movements -per se are not the
efficient factor in the above explanation. In the ordinary con-
ception as to the influence of eye movements, divergence is
correlated with a remote position of the field, and convergence
locates the objects nearer to the observer. Either the tactual-
kinaesthetic sensations resulting from the movements, or the
binocular innervation of the act is supposed to influence the
spatial character of the percept. In our explanation the eye
movements are essential only because they create the necessary
conditions for the operation of the effective principle, viz., the
unitary combination of disparate spatial processes. This prin-
ciple is practically equivalent to what has been termed else-
where1 for want of a better expression the ' binocular parallax.'
There is no intention of denying the efficacy of the convergent
principle as ordinarily understood ; it is to be noted, however,
that the binocular parallax is effective in the above illusions,
although it is spatially antagonistic to the supposed effects of
convergent movements.
One further possible interpretation must be considered. It
may be supposed that the eye movements are so slow as to be
unnoticed. Being ignorant of the eye movement, the subject
1 Ibid., PSYCH. REV., Mon. Sup., Vol. VII., no. 3, p. 114.
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 249
fails to make allowances therefor, and hence he erroneously
judges that the field is moving in a direction opposite to that of
the eye movement. This principle has been used in the expla-
nation of some of the lateral illusions of visual motion. I have
attempted elsewhere l to show the fallaciousness of this expla-
nation of the lateral illusions. Irrespective of its validity in
those cases, the principle meets fatal objections in the third
dimensional illusions: (i) It cannot account for the relative
movement of different parts of the field, especially the relative
movement of two objects in the line of sight (XIX.). (2) There
is no < ignorance ' of the eye movements, as the theory presup-
poses, in one illusion (XVIII.). (3) Doubling and confusion
of images are not always present, characteristics which must
inevitably occur according to the theory. In fact doubling
never occurs except in the two cases, and this doubling destroys
the illusion. There is no confusion or blurring of the objects
in three of the experiences (XVIII. , XX. and XXII.).
There are practically no theoretical limitations as to the appli-
cation of the binocular parallax principle. It is especially adapted
to explain certain phenomena to which the other principles are
not applicable, e. g., the movement of the fixated objects with-
out any change in their intensity or distinctness, the movement
of one part of the field in relation to other objects, especially
when the relative movement refers to objects in the line of
sight, and a peripheral blur with clearness of images in the cen-
tral portion of the field. The theory is directly supported by
several other experiences which have not been described.
We stated previously that we were interested so far in the
principle of the 'binocular parallax* as a mere statement of
fact. The prevalent theory of explanation as applied to the
perception of solidity — the Hyslop circles — is stated in motor
terms : As a matter of fact the combined smaller circles are
located at that depth position upon which the eyes must neces-
sarily converge provided the images are normally combined.
The eyes are reflexly stimulated so as to combine slightly
doubled images. The theory assumes, then, that this constant
reflex strain, or tendency, of the eye to converge upon a given
llbid., PSYCH. REV., Mon. Sup., Vol. VII., no. 3, p. 86.
250 H. A. CARR.
point in order to combine the displaced images is the cause of
their combination and translocation to that position. Several
objections may be urged against this theory.
1. The motor strain translocates only the smaller circles.
Logically it would seem that such a peripheral factor should
effect all objects in the visual field. The assumption that it
possesses a selective influence needs further explanatory
consideration.
2. The translocation of the smaller circles varies in amount
in proportion to the extent of eye movement necessary normally
to unite them. The location of the images is constant in any
particular case of combination. Hence the theory must assume
that the degree of strain varies in different cases in proportion
to the deviation of the smaller circles from concentricity, but
that it remains constant in any particular case of combination.
The latter assumption is extremely questionable.
3. The figures are not only translocated in depth but later-
ally, *'. <?., they are moved together until they unite. This
lateral movement needs additional explanation.
4. The eyes do not move in the direction of the translocating
tendency because of the necessity of maintaining the combina-
tion of the larger circles. In fact there are two antagonistic
tendencies present — one effective upon the smaller circles and
one upon the larger. This fact emphasizes the essentially
selective character of these motor tendencies.
Matters may be further complicated. Four pairs of circles
may be used. Two pairs may be projected at unequal dis-
tances in front of the large circles. The third pair can at the
same time be united behind the plane of the large circles.
There must needs be three motor tendencies present, a diver-
gent one and two convergent ones. The latter must vary in
intensity, for their effects are unequal. Granted that there may
be two antagonistic tendencies each effective upon only a cer-
tain part of the visual field, yet the assumption of two simulta-
neous motor impulses of the same directive character, but of
unequal intensity and each operating upon only a definite part
of the field, is somewhat exacting upon one's credulity.
5. The motor theory meets difficulties in its application to
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OP DEPTH. 251
the illusions described in this paper. The eyes involuntarily
diverge beyond an object, and this object remains single and
moves forward in proportion to the diverging movement. The
theory posits a convergent tendency as the unifying principle.
But a divergent tendency is also present greater than the con-
vergent one, because the eyes actually diverge. According to
the preceding section, it might be assumed that this divergent
tendency is the unifying principle for the larger circles of the
Hyslop figures. In these illusions, however, this stronger
divergent tendency has no material to unite. The convergent
strain unites the images, while the divergent tendency is func-
tionless. How can one possess a combining function and the
other not? What determines as to which one is to be function-
ally active? Logically why should not the stronger tendency
prevail ?
6. The assumption that the combined images are located at
that position to which it would be necessary for the eyes to move
in order to combine them normally is true for the Hyslop figure,
but not for these illusions. If this were true, the combined
images would be located at the actual position of the object and
hence no illusion could occur. This is evident from Fig. 3.
t ,.
FIG. 3.
The eyes are diverged beyond an object A, so that the lines of
sight intersect at B at a distance of six feet from A. A1 and
A2 represent the heteronymous images of A as perceived in
ordinary circumstances. Obviously a convergent movement
252 H. A. CARR.
from B to A will normally unite these images ; hence the con-
vergent tendency toward A which is supposed to exert a com-
bining and translocating function, should locate the images at
A ; the object would thus be perceived in its real position, and no
illusion would be possible. As a matter of fact the visual object
is located at the position A3. This objection is fatal to the
motor theory.
7. Such a reflex motor tendency to unite doubled images
should be universal — occurring for everyone and at all times.
This is true for the Hyslop figure, but not for our illusions.
The combination of disparate images occurs for but few people
and only under certain unusual mental conditions. The uni-
versality in the perception of solidity is probably due to habit.
My point is this, viz., that the effective principle, whatever it
may be, operates only under certain unusual conditions.
In opposition to the motor theory, I wish to suggest a hypoth-
esis which is free from the above objections. It involves two
assumptions : (a) That the position of monocular images along
the line of sight is variable, that an image may be perceived at
slightly varying distances from the eye. In support of this con-
tention we know that monocular judgments of distance are much
more variable and inaccurate than those of binocular vision, (b)
Some of these variable determining conditions are mental and
central, i. £., are not due to motor adjustments. The nature of
these I do not presume to describe. That such mental condi-
tions as extreme mental absorption and concentration of attention
should influence monocular depth perceptions is not at all
improbable.
The application of these assumptions to the illusions is
simple. We have found that the combination of heteronymous
images involves a forward displacement. Lines drawn from
heteronymous images to their corresponding eyes intersect in
front of the position of the object (Fig. 3). Under certain con-
ditions the monocular images A1 and A2 are shifted along their
lines of projection. If shifted forward sufficiently, they are
perforce united. On the other hand, when homonymous images
are projected backward, provided the lines of projection do not
diverge beyond the parallel, they become spatially combined.
No separate uniting mechanism need be postulated.
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH. 253
Inasmuch as the conditions determining the shift along the
lines of projection are assumed to be central, they may well be
selective upon the visual field, and different parts of the field
may be translocated in different directions or for diverse dis-
tances. It may be objected that the images may be shifted in
the wrong direction along the line of projection. This is true.
In other words, the principle is not universal — a characteristic
in which it agrees with the facts. The combination will occur
only under unusual mental conditions — habit in the case of
solidity, and extreme mental concentration upon the object with
the above illusions. The fact that both images are shifted
simultaneously in the same direction supports the contention
that the determining conditions are central and menial.
The projection theory as outlined above readily explains
these illusions of depth, a phenomenon which cannot be ade-
quately accounted for in terms of the motor theory (Sec. 5 and
6). The sense of solidity, as typified by the combination of the
Hyslop circles, may be explained as readily in terms of one
theory as of the other. The projection theory, however, is free
from the objections urged against the motor hypothesis, viz.,
(i) that the effective factors must be spatially selective; (2) the
necessity of assuming a number of motor factors working simul-
taneously, but which may be unequal in strength and antago-
nistic in direction, and (3) the efficiency of such factors only
under unusual mental conditions.
To summarize, we have found direct evidence as to the effi-
ciency of several factors governing depth, and we have sketched
the theoretical limitations of each principle. These factors may
operate singly or in various combinations. The principles
have been derived from a consideration of a few specific cases,
but so far as a -priori possibilities are concerned, any illusion
(with a few exceptions) may be explained by some one, or some
combination, of the above principles. The majority of the illu-
sions furnish no direct and unambiguous evidence as to the
nature of the causal factors. If it be granted that all illusions
are due to some of the above principles, there is evidence as to
the probably effective factor in many specific cases, (i) The
binocular parallax seems to possess the greatest potential appli-
254 H. A. CARR.
cation. Such illusions as I., V., VI. and XI. are probably to
be classed under this heading. (2) Lenticular changes are sec-
ond in the extent of their application as an explanatory princi-
ple. Illusions VII., XIV. and XVI. find their probable expla-
nation on this hypothesis. (3) Intensity changes' seem to have
some degree of applicability but apparently such a factor is gen-
erally operative in conjunction with other factors. (4) Con-
vergence is probably limited to the three illusions of patterned
objects. (5) The contraction of the field possesses a doubtful
validity but, granted that it has some influence, its application
is limited. (6) The illusions occurring in dreams and abnormal
psychic attacks, especially when they are rhythmic in character
(II., III. and X.), are probably due to motor disturbances and
hence may be assumed to be conditioned by convergence and
lenticular changes. (7) Those experiences which were classed
as due entirely to objective causes (IX.) cannot be explained in
any of the above terms. Illusion XII. also presents difficulty to
any of these theories.
There is no intention of denying the possible efficacy of
other causal factors in many of these illusions. The discussion
has been purposefully confined to those factors for whose func-
tional presence there is some direct factual evidence.
17. Peculiar Phenomena. — So far we have discussed the
illusions from the standpoint of their spatial significance, — the
factors determining depth location. Many other characteristics,
such as the direction, kind, extent and rapidity of the move-
ments, kind and distinctness of images, extent of visual field
involved, etc., are readily explicable and need no further com-
ment. Several features, however, deserve additional explana-
tory notice.
(a) Twelve experiences are illusions of pure distance, no
movement being perceived ; twenty persons experienced both
movement and change of location ; with eight persons the first
and second types alternate in the same illusion, and two subjects
experience pure motion. As a rule the subjects were very posi-
tive in regard to these points, the writer took pains to describe
and illustrate very carefully these different possibilities, and the
distinctions are easily comprehensible. As a consequence there
VISUAL ILLUSIONS OF DEPTH, 255
is little doubt of the validity of the distinctions in the main. The
differences can hardly be due to the kind of space factor in-
volved. For example, five experiences were explained by the
principle of binocular parallax ; two of these are illusions of
pure distance ; movement and change of location are experi-
enced by two persons, and there is an alternation in one case.
It may be assumed that the perception of movement and change
of location is the normal experience but that the motion is not
perceived when the spatial changes are either extremely rapid
or extremely slow. When the objects remain at some remote
position and the illusion is terminated by eye movements, no
motion is perceived in the sudden return illusion. In illusions
of pure distance the objects as a rule jump instantaneously from
one position to another and remain stationary for a time (XXII.).
In a few cases my notes furnish no clue as to the rapidity of the
spatial changes. When motion is perceived, however, the
movement is generally of a moderate rapidity. On the whole
this theory furnishes the best explanation of the phenomena,
(b) The relation between the size and distance of visual per-
cepts is a complex and variable one. When after-images, en-
toptic phenomena and combined images are projected at various
distances from the observer, their size varies directly with the
distance. This result was obtained in the three illusions of
patterned objects, a result that can be obtained by voluntary
binocular combination. In the majority of the illusions, the size
varied inversely as the distance. This result seems to belong
to the principle that when the object is known and the distance
is wrongly perceived, a correction of size is made, because
habitually distant objects appear small and near objects appear
large. The absence of any change of size in the one illusion
seems to be an anomalous result.
In conclusion, we are cognizant of the weaknesses of such a
method of treatment. The facts are open to suspicion because
of possible errors of memory, the incompetency of the subjects
for accurate descriptions, and the influence of suggestive ques-
tions in eliciting a complete account of the phenomena. The
uniqueness and frequency of the illusions should render memory
more reliable than in ordinary experiences. Their number and
256 H. A. CARR.
their comparative uniformity in many respects suggest that the
general summary of the various characteristics must possess a
large basis of fact at the very least. That each description is
true in every particular is hardly credible. Necessarily the
generalizations as to the space factors can hardly possess a
validity equal to those derived from well controlled experiments.
The conclusions as to the criteria of depth possess a suggestive
and confirmatory value. The experiences do support the
general proposition that the relation of the various factors gov-
erning judgments of depth especially in respect to their func-
tional efficiency, is very complex, and probably subject to
marked individual variations, — a conclusion which has been
urged in the previous articles cited. These experiences are
also interesting and valuable from the standpoint of human
nature. The facts that they are so striking, so real in appear-
ance, so antagonistic to the customary behavior of the visual
world, so frequent in early youth — a period of imaginative
susceptibility — and often so frightful, lead one to suspect the
possible influence of such experiences in the development of
more serious mental disorders.
MUSCLE-READING : A METHOD OF INVESTIGAT-
ING INVOLUNTARY MOVEMENTS AND
MENTAL TYPES.
BY PROFESSOR JUNE E. DOWNEY,
The University of Wyoming.
I.
Recognition of the existence of involuntary movements,
whereby a fit reagent may receive information of various sorts,
such, for instance, as the whereabouts of an object thought-of
or knowledge of the nature of an action meditated-upon is now
widespread. Investigation has shown that the information con-
veyed by such involuntary movements may be received by the
reagent in various ways. He may, for example, receive it
through contact as in muscle-reading, or through the ear or the
eye as in the so-called mind-reading without contact. An in-
animate object may be substituted for the human reagent and
involuntary movements may manifest themselves in table-tipping
or by the behavior of the divining-rod or of the planchette or
they may be accurately recorded by the registration of them by
means of the automatograph or other instruments. It has,
further, been shown that animals will respond to-such involun-
tary movements, using them as signals for the performance of
various acts. Of the possibilities of such response, Herr
Pfungst's l highly entertaining work on the famous calculating
horse of Berlin must remain for some time the classic report.
In the following investigation, the involuntary movements
of the subject were interpreted by contact, by the so-called
method of muscle-reading. The nearest approach in purpose
to the present investigation was found, however — after the tests
to be recorded had been completed — in the above-mentioned
work of Pfungst, in the section reporting laboratory tests upon
involuntary movements.2 The movements reported by Pfungst
1 Pfungst, O., ' Das Pferd des Herrn von Osten (der Kluge Hans), ein Bei-
trag zur Experimentellen Tier- und Menscheti- Psychologic,' 1907.
' Op. «/., p. 77 f-
257
258 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
were interpreted visually — a method of reaction superior, for
experimental purposes, to reaction through contact in that it
makes possible graphic registration of the movements of both
agent and reagent. The situation dealt with in the following
paper was less defined than that reported by Pfungst, a condi-
tion which renders the results less capable of precise formula-
tion. They have, none the less, their value. The emphasis in
the two tests was different. Pfungst only incidentally touched
upon the point wherein lay the special interest of the present in-
vestigation, namely, the relation between involuntary movements
and the nature of the control process used by the subject in the
endeavor to concentrate his attention. Pfungst's observations
on himself and his reports from his subjects confirm in part the
results obtained in the present tests and constitute by far the most
acute analysis of the situation which the present writer has found
in the literature of the subject.
The history of muscle-reading runs very briefly as follows :
In 1874, under the caption of ' Mind-Reading,' it began its plat-
form career in America spectacularly with the demonstrations
of Brown. It yielded, within a few months, its crucial secret —
its dependence upon the involuntary movements of the guide —
to that acute observer and analyst, Dr. G. M. Beard.1 In 1881,
after a similar career in England, under the auspices of Bishop,
it was a second time investigated with similar outcome by a
group of English scientists, chiefly Croom Robertson, Romanes,
Lankester and Gallon. Since that time, skill on the part of
operators and knowledge of their modus operandi have devel-
oped concurrently. A literature on the subject has developed ;
partly semi-scientific — a reassurance of the public bewildered
by the dexterity of the latest platform demonstrator — partly
scientific, in the form of reports on specific aspects of the gen-
eral problem, such as thought-reading without contact.
Apart, however, from the general conclusion that mind-
reading by contact or otherwise is possible because of uncon-
scious or involuntary indications given by the guide who con-
centrates attention on a particular object or action, the following
interesting observations have been made.
1 Beard, G. M., Trance and Muscle-Reading, 1882.
MUSCLE HEADING. 259
t
Relative to the muscle-reader himself it has been shown that
ability in this line is not confined to a few particularly gifted
persons, but is a general ability dependent upon practice for
development,1 although Beard questions the possibility of chil-
dren under fifteen or adults over fifty becoming skillful in the
art.a Neither do men who are adepts show when tested more
than normal acuteness in tactual discrimination.3 Emotional
excitement, incident to public exhibitions if successful at all, and
all conditions that induce a semi-hypnotic state in either reader
or subject facilitate the reading.4 The reader is often as un-
conscious of his method of reading as the guide is of his move-
ments, although an intelligent reader usually grows sophisti-
cated in time.8 The degree of expertness the mind-reader may
acquire is extraordinary. The precision with which he identifies
one small object among many — selects, for instance, one pin
among a dozen, or identifies a word or letter chosen at random
from a large volume — is surprising.6 Moreover, the action
thought-of may be highly complicated without the reader being
baffled thereby. Again, the tests may be successfully per-
formed if indirect contact by way of a wire or other rigid con-
nection be substituted for direct contact. Or between the guide
and the reader one or more persons ignorant of the object
selected may be placed, provided that the human chain thus
formed be a rigid one. Moreover, contact may be done away
with altogether and the reader be guided by the movements of
the whole body of the guide or even by the sound of his foot-
steps as he moves with him.7 This last-mentioned method of
guidance by way of auditory indications suggests the later work
1 Beard, op. tit., p. 20, p. 36 (quoting Romane's Report on 'Thought-Read-
ing' in Nature, 1881); Laurent, L., 'Les proce'de's des liseurs de pensees,'
Jour, de Psychol., 1905, II., p. 486 f.
* Beard, 'Physiology of Mind-Reading,' Pop. Science Monthly, X., 1877.
'Beard, Trance and Muscle- Reading, p. 34 (quoting Romanes's report).
4 Beard, 'Physiology of Mind-Reading,' toe. tit., p. 472 ; Laurent, loc. cit.,
p. 486.
5 Beard, Trance and Muscle-Reading, p. 14* Cumberland, S. A., Thought-
header's Thoughts, 1888, p. 4 ; GaJtchell, C., 'The Methods of Mind-Readers,'
The Forum, XI., 1891, p. 201.
6 In Pfungst's experiments, the amplitude of the movement which was the
signal for reaction averaged one millimeter. '
7 Beard, ' Mind-Reading by the Ear,' Pop. Science Monthly, XI., 1877.
260 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
of Hansen and Lehmann, and the still later work of Laurent,
on communication through involuntary verbalization.1 Although
the term ' muscle-reading' ceases to be appropriate when methods
are so varied as to exclude contact, the principle of thought-
reading through involuntary movement, whether interpreted
tactually, auditorially, or visually, remains the same.
Relative to the guide in muscle-reading or thought-reading
without contact, it has been shown that the value in this capacity
of different persons varies greatly. Gatchell estimates that
about one person in five among young people and one in ten or
twenty among adults satisfy the requirements for a good subject
who ' must be capable of mental concentration ; he must exert no
muscular self-control ; he must obey his every impulse.'2 A dif-
ference in the fitness of guides is usually attributed to failure on
the part of certain reagents to meet the conditions of the tests
Beard remarks that voluntary stiffening of the muscles delay.
or renders success impossible and that knowledge on the part
of the guide of the modus O'perandi has an inhibit! ve effect.
" The best subjects would appear to be those who have moderate
power of concentration and slight control over their muscular
movements. Credulous, wonder-loving subjects are sometimes
partially entranced through the emotions of reverence and ex-
pectation ; with subjects in this state operators are quite sure to
succeed.3
Romanes contents himself with reporting of the reagent in
the English test as follows: "It was soon found that he suc-
ceeded much better with some of us than with others ; so at the
second meeting, in order to make a numerical comparison, he
was requested to try two experiments with each of the four
persons who were present. With Mr. Galton, Professor
Robertson and Professor Lankester he failed utterly, while with
mystlf he succeeded once perfectly and the second time approxi-
mately."4 Cumberland, the expert English thought-reader,
1 Hansen u. Lehmann, ' Ueber unwillkurliches Fliistern,' Phil. Studien,
XL, 1895 ; Laurent, ' Les proc£d6s des liseurs de pense'es, ' Journal de Psychol-
I., 1905.
2 Loc. cit., p. 199 f.
s ' Physiology of Mind-Reading,' loc. cit., p. 467.
4 Trance and Muscle-Reading, p. 31.
MUSCLE READING. 261
instances the involuntary or deliberate dishonesty of certain
subjects who were either unable or unwilling to concentrate
attention. Cumberland objects to the ' nervous' man as a sub-
ject. " It is with the determined man, the man with the iron
will, the man who can concentrate his thoughts unwaveringly
that I can succeed best."1 And again, "With respect to ' women
as subjects ' it is quite an error to imagine that I achieve suc-
cess more readily with women than with men. . . . Who
make the best * subjects'? is another question I am frequently
asked, to which I can only reply, that whilst some persons
actually are more suitable for experiments of this kind
than others, every intelligent, thoughtful man who will
act up to the conditions imposed upon him, is sure to be
a good 'subject,' and that with such folk, I, in nine cases
out of ten, should be successful. . . . Taking all in all, I have
found the best * subjects ' among statesmen, diplomatists, mathe-
maticians, literary men and all those engaged in active brain-
work." Among distinguished men, Alexander Dumas is named
by Cumberland as his worst subject, a fact attributed to Dumas'
natural ' self-willedness.' Musicians as a class are cited as poor
subjects ; artists as somewhat better. Lawyers, physicians,
and clergymen are described as furnishing some excellent
material for tests but on the whole are found to be susceptible
to certain limitations that make against success. Among sub-
jects of different nationalities, the Germans are reported to offer
the greatest number of good * subjects ' and Field-Marshal Von
Moltke is named as the first among the best * subjects.'2
Laurent3 insists that success is inevitable if the guide is able
to concentrate his attention and submits to the test in good faith.
Failure on the part of the muscle-reader results from the involun-
tary dishonesty of subjects who are unable to concentrate atten-
tion for any length of time and from the voluntary trickery of
those whose attention is concentrated on the idea of leading the
reader away from the correct locality. Success is brilliant with
honest guides of hysteric or nervous tendencies, whose obses-
lOp. tit., p. 80 f.
*Op. cit., Chap. X.
*Loc. cii., p. 485 f.
262 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
sion by the idea concentrated upon leads to an augmentation of
unconscious movements.
Pfungst l in his tests in the laboratory experimented upon
twenty-five persons of various ages and of both sexes. He
noted visually, controlling his observation by a graphic regis-
tration, the involuntary jerk of the head by which his subjects
indicated the terminal member of a numerical series, thought of
by them and tapped by the operator. Out of the twenty-five
persons tested, only two (especially abstract thinkers) failed to
react in the expected way. In only a few persons, however,
was the head-movement very evident, that is, more than a milli-
meter in extent. Pfungst 2 found that excitement, ' warming
up,' practice, fatigue, indisposition, the so-called * Persevera-
tionstendenz ' and faith in results affected the outcome, in so
far as these factors affected the subject's power of concentration
of attention. If we omit the special conditions required for
success when Hans, the horse, served as reagent, we may sum-
marize Pfungst's statement of the conditions necessary for suc-
cess in the tests tried by him as follows : 3 Capacity for strong
concentration of attention for only a pronounced tension of
expectation and will issues in such strong relaxation that the
innervation-changes lead to an outwardly perceivable move-
ment ; lapse of self-control under the conditions of intense
concentration ; readiness of motor discharge toward the
muscles rather than its expenditure in the production of vascu-
lar and glandular changes ; maintenance of tension a suf-
ficiently long time with relaxation at the right moment. It is
concluded that all in all only a very few persons correspond
completely to the type described. They were, says Pfungst,
characteristically those who were otherwise reputed to be very
impulsive and possessed of ' temperament.'
II.
For some years, the present writer has practiced muscle-
reading with a deepening conviction that there are possibilities
1Op. tit., p. 77 f.
2 Op. ctf., p. 101 f.
s Op. cit., p. 145 f.
MUSCLE READING. 263
in its use as a method of investigation which have not yet been
exhausted. Her interest centered chiefly in determining if
possible by its means a classification of mental types. It is
obvious that this problem may be approached from the stand-
point of either agent or reagent. The problems presented by
the latter are, however, in this connection less interesting than
those suggested by the agent or subject, although in mind-
reading without contact undue sensitivity of sense-organ or
abnormal passivity on the part of the operator must probably be
assumed, and in complicated tests with contact there is involved
a power of interpretation which maybe dependent upon natural
facility as well as upon extensive practice. In any case, tests
upon many trained operators were out of the question while the
writer as operator was herself able to handle many agents.
The present investigation was then chiefly concerned with the
problems presented by the agent or guide.
The fact that interest centered upon the psychology of the
guide accounts for the detailed resume of the observations that
have hitherto been made upon the various types of subjects. A
careful consideration of the reports given by experimenters
shows two different emphases in explanation of the varying
effectiveness of guides, an effectiveness measured by the tend-
ency of subjects to react with involuntary movements and by
the accuracy of such movements as an index of the direction of
attention. Emphasis is laid, in the first instance, upon the need
of concentration of attention and success with a given guide is
cited as an evidence of his power to concentrate attention ; in
the second instance, less stress is laid upon this factor and the
bearing of thought-reading tests upon automatic or hypnotic
phenomena is emphasized.
Granting the contention of certain experimenters that fail-
ure with any subject is due either to the latter's inability to con-
centrate attention steadily, or to his unwillingness to contribute
to the reader's success, and his maintenance, therefore, of self-
control with consequent inhibition of natural expression, can
muscle-reading be used as a simple device for determining rel-
ative to any given individual such temperamental tendencies as
inability to concentrate attention steadily, constitutional combat-
264 JUNE B. DOWNEY.
iveness, power of control over involuntary movements? If so,
muscle-reading has its place as a method in the investigation of
mental types. Pfungst would add a third possibility of failure
due to a tendency for the nervous energy liberated by con-
centration of attention to drain itself otherwise than through
muscular innervation. He found, it will be recalled, certain
abstract thinkers very inappropriate subjects. A varying readi-
ness to motor expression might indeed be expected on theoreti-
cal grounds.
The first question then that phrases itself relates to the effect
upon the outcome of the test of the subject's attitude toward it.
Will scepticism as to the outcome or hostility toward the oper-
ator's claims or knowledge of his modus operandt result in
inhibition of the involuntary movements that otherwise would
result from the situation?
A second problem involves a consideration of the relation of
concentration of attention to success, a determination, particu-
larly, of the degree of concentration which favors success. An
interesting development comes when it is discovered in the
course of experimentation that the outcome of tests is varied by
a change on the part of the subject in the method of concentra-
tion utilized. The question is now phrased : What relation, if
any, exists between the sort of mental control exercised by the
individual in his effort to concentrate attention and his value or
worthlessness as an agent in these experiments? Has any one
method of enforcing the attention a constant value? Or does
the value of a particular method vary with the individual? If
so, is there a constant variation dependent upon the sort of
sense control utilized? Again, in that case, will the more or
the less habitual method of enforcement prove the more effec-
tive? The question we are raising is the differing expressive
or inhibitive motor value of differing sense forms of attention,
a question that muscle-reading as a method of investigation
seems peculiarly adapted to answering.
A third problem formulates itself in view of the fact that
voluntary concentration of attention on the part of the subject is
by no means as necessary to success as certain reports would
lead us to expect. How are we to explain successes with dis-
MUSCLE HEADING. 265
traded attention and those strange cases in which involuntary
movements are an index to the past, not the present, direction
of attention?1 What bearing, if any, do these observations
have upon the observations of Beard and Laurent that the most
effective subjects for thought-reading tests are those individuals
in whom automatic tendencies are increased by the narrowing
of the field of consciousness through a trance-like condition
brought on through undue suggestibility?
The outline of the report is now clear. After a brief dis-
cussion of the method used, in general, the writer will report in
detail the course followed in an attempt to answer the above
questions.
III.
In the tests, which have been under way for something over
a year, the writer has served variously as operator, subject, and
spectator. As operator (Dy), she has tested every agent,
except herself. As subject — an unusually refractory one —
she has introspected carefully her experiences under the test
conditions. As spectator, she has been able to conduct certain
experiments and make observations otherwise impossible. Her
experiences as subject were, on the whole, the most interesting
and enlightening.
In the tests in which the writer did not serve as operator, her
place was taken by Miss Abby Drew (Dw), a college junior,
who as a student of psychology had amused herself by devel-
oping skill in muscle-reading. As Miss Drew was, like the
writer, a poor reagent, a profitable series of tests was that in
which these two reagents worked with each other, tests which
only after many weeks ended in success.
In all of the tests to be described, contact between operator
and guide was made by way of the hands. The operator with
her right hand touched lightly either the wrist or finger-tips of
the right hand of the guide, or clasped the guide's right wrist
with her right hand and touched the guide's right finger-tips
with her own left hand. This is, apparently, the method of
contact used by Cumberland, the English expert. Brown,
1 Downey, J. E., 'Automatic Phenomena of Muscle Reading,' The Jour, of
Phil.t Psychol., and Scientific Methods, Vol. V., p. 650 ff., 1908.
266 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
whom Beard tested, pressed the back of his subject's hand
against his own forehead and with his other hand touched the
palmar side of his subject's hand. Laurent reports l that test-
variations showed the best method of contact to be that in which
the subject placed his hand between the shoulders of the oper-
ator. All of these methods were tried during the course of
experimentation. Brown's method was discarded because of
the fatigue that ensued from the strained position of the arm, a
strain particularly evident when there was great difference in
the height of operator and subject. Laurent's method proved
to be excellent so long as general direction of movement was
in question but it was found to be much less precise than con-
tact by the hands when it came to identification of an object.
Most of the experiments reported were tried in the psycho-
logical laboratory of the University of Wyoming, a laboratory
which consists of a double room, the outer section of which
opens on a hall and staircase and is separated from the inner
by a partition, the windows of which can be darkened with
curtains. The length of the two rooms is about thirty-three
feet ; the width some fifteen feet. The outer room is equipped
with four rows of opera chairs, six in a row, and with writing-
desk, book-shelves, a swinging blackboard and radiator. The
inner room is furnished with three tables, one extending almost
the whole length of the south side of the room ; the two other
tables, much smaller, occupy the north section of the room.
This room also contains two apparatus-cases and wide shelves
running the north length of the room. Chairs and radiator
complete the equipment.
The general procedure was as follows : The operator would
withdraw into the hall and during her absence the subject would
select and place in a position either exposed or hidden and in
either the outer or the inner room, an object for identification.
The operator would then be summoned ; contact would be made
at the entrance to the outer room ; a stop-watch would be started ;
and the test was on. Sometimes, before movement, the opera-
tor would resort to a relaxation of the hand and arm of the
subject ; occasionally the whole body of the subject would be
1 Loc. tit., p. 488 i.
MUSCLE READING. 267
swung rapidly from side to side. With ' hard ' subjects such
relaxation was sometimes repeated during the tests. In the
preliminary experiments the operator generally took the lead.
Dy moved very rapidly and when successful achieved success,
usually, in a very short time. Dw moved more slowly but with
great accuracy. In the earlier experiments Dy always blind-
folded herself carefully before entering the room and was under
the impression that this blindfolding was necessary to success.
It certainly contributed to her confidence and shut out distract-
ing impressions. Later, she found it sufficient to close the eyes.
Dw was confused by a blindfold and preferred merely to close
the eyes.
A report of the experiment was made by the writer imme-
diately at the close of each test. In the more complicated tests,
these reports were supplemented by records kept by a spectator
during the actual experiment. In many of the tests, for instance,
the spectator reproduced on a map of the rooms, previously
drawn to the scale, the exact course followed by the subject in
placing and by the operator in finding the object.
Variations in method will be described in connection with
the discussion of different problems. In general, but little
attempt was made to produce brilliant or theatrical effects. It
was not possible to estimate the actual expertness of the oper-
ators. Dy was, however, able to reproduce all of the feats
mentioned by the experts, such as writing out dates of which
the subject is thinking (contact by operator's left hand only), or
the writing of several syllabled words (contact by right hand of
operator) ; finding a book and identifying therein a word chosen
at random ; successfully locating an object although several
persons ignorant of its whereabouts are placed between oper-
ator and subject ; operating without contact when the subject
moves near her. To succeed in these tests, Dy must work with
* fit ' subjects. She had never tested herself in the location of
an object at a great distance nor can she succeed without con-
tact when the subject is some distance away. The writer has
seen but one platform « mind-reader.' Stripping his perform-
ances of irrelevant and theatrical effects, she could have repro-
duced his results with great ease. The most difficult part of
268 JUNE B. DOWNEY.
such an experiment, namely, the identification of the object
after its general locality is found, was by this operator overcome
by himself selecting or naming the object which was to be hid-
den. To repeat, for the purposes of the present test, precision
was of more consequence than brilliancy.
The great defect of the method was the lack of an objective
control of the subjective reports. Of course, in a measure,
success furnished evidence of the initiative of the guide and of
the expertness of the operator ; but in the case of failure, com-
plete or partial, it was impossible to determine absolutely whether
the failure was due to defective concentration or defective motor
impulse on the part of the subject or, rather, chargeable to the
maladroitness of the operator. Objective control by way of
registration of the involuntary movements was, however, in the
present set of tests, out of the question.
IV.
A preliminary experiment involved the determination of the
number of subjects with whom the writer would be able to
operate successfully. To estimate the percentage of ' fit ' and
•unfit' subjects for such a test, rapid tests of a great number of
subjects, taken at random, were tried. Only those subjects
upon whom the writer took notes at the time of test are included
in the summary. Under such conditions sixty subjects were
tested ; forty in the laboratory as described above ; twenty under
slightly different conditions and in other surroundings. In the
latter case, there were frequently several or many spectators
present ; in the former, few or none. In the case of fifteen of
these subjects but one test was tried. The other subjects were
tested two or more times. Forty-three of the sixty subjects
were women or girls ; seventeen, men or boys. In age, they
varied from nine years to over fifty. The table summarizing
results follows. By a partial success is meant a case in which
the operator went to the article and then withdrew from it or
explored in its vicinity without finally locating it.
Whole number of subjects tested, 60.
Number with whom completely successful first trial, 42 (70
per cent.).
MUSCLE READING. 269
Number with whom wholly or partially successful first or
second trial, 56 (93.3 per cent.).
Number with whom failed after repeated trials, 2 (3.3 per
cent.).
The subjects grouped according to sex give the following
record :
Whole number of women and girls tested, 43.
Number with whom completely successful first trial, 29 (67.4
per cent.).
Number with whom wholly or partially successful first or
second trial, 40 (93 per cent.).
Number with whom failed after repeated trials, i (2.3 per
cent.).
Whole number of men and boys tested, 17.
Number with whom completely successful first trial, 13 (76.4
per cent.).
Number with whom wholly or partially successful first or
second trial, 16 (94.1 per cent.).
Number with whom failed after repeated trials, 1(5. 8 per
cent.).
The ease with which success was obtained, measured either
by the time needed to achieve it or the amount of effort required
on the part of the operator, varied greatly even with those
subjects with whom success was achieved. About eight of the
sixty subjects (including the writer, nine of those tested) would
be described as particularly difficult to handle. The striking
outcome is the great number of individuals indicating by in-
voluntary movements the direction of attention.
Even in the case of the two subjects with whom the writer
failed to succeed, momentary indications were given. With
these two subjects six tests each were tried. The first subject
was tested at the very beginning of the experimental series, at a
time when the writer, unaware as yet of the difference in results
introduced by variation in the method of concentration, failed to
try the effect of a change in the control. The second subject
was tested at a time of intense preoccupation, on the part of both
operator and subject, with disturbing matters so that neither was
in good condition for the test. It is not probable that these two
270 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
subjects would have proved, under other circumstances, more
difficult to handle than did the others of the eight cited above,
with whom the writer ultimately succeeded.
The figures given, namely, that, among sixty subjects, about
fifty-two would be fit subjects for muscle-reading tests may be
compared with estimates previously made. Gatchell speaks of
' good' subjects, without specification of the degree of effective-
ness required to admit one to this rank, and cites as such, ' about
one person in five among young people and one in ten or twenty
among adults.' The present estimate of fit subjects would be
about twenty-five in thirty. This does not mean, of course, that
long and complicated experiments would succeed with such a
large percentage but that the simple test of locating an article
within the compass of a fairly large room would be easily
achieved. Pfungst's tests in the laboratory gave complete fail-
ure to react with involuntary movements only in the case of two
out of twenty-five subjects. Cumberland estimates that he
would succeed with nine out of ten persons. Such reports
agree well with that given here.
V.
To turn now to a discussion of the questions already formu-
lated. First, as to the effect upon the outcome of the experi-
ment of the subject's attitude toward it. Will scepticism as to
the result, or hostility toward the operator's claims, or knowl-
edge of the modus operandi result in the inhibition of the
involuntary movements that otherwise might result from the
situation.
Subjects grouped in respect to their attitude toward the test
fall into three classes. There are, first, those subjects who are
predisposed to believe in the operator's power ' to read their
minds.' Such subjects are charmed when the operator succeeds
with them, taking success as a compliment to their strength of
will, their magnetic influence, or as evidence of the operator's
occult powers. There are, secondly, the sceptical subjects who
are inclined to believe that a trick explains any successes they
have witnessed, who are angry and ashamed if they prove to be
usable subjects. A third class of subjects apparently submits to
MUSCLE READING. 2?1
the test with little predisposition other than to follow the opera-
tor's directions with perfect candor.
An attempt to classify one's subjects with reference to their
faith or scepticism is, however, obviously open to gross errors.1
One can only conjecture a subject's attitude from his behavior ;
to resort to direct questioning is of little value. But the accept-
ance of success as evidence of some occult influence and an
eagerness * to have one's mind read ' bear witness to a high de-
gree of credulity. A sceptical attitude is much harder to dis-
cern, although it is sometimes evident from a subject's scornful
exclamation, "You couldn't succeed with me!" Such a sub-
ject will not believe, except from first-hand experience, that the
guidance in such tests is involuntary.
The notes of the writer show that success has often been
achieved, and at times with great ease, when the subject's atti-
tude was evidently one of profound scepticism as to the out-
come. The chagrin of the guide at the success of the operator
was frequently ludicrously apparent. On the other hand, fail-
ure occasionally resulted even with a highly suggestible guide,
a fact not surprising of course since failure to concentrate atten-
tion might be cited as a cause. On the whole, however, the
difficult subjects were those who assumed a critical attitude
during the course of the experiment. It is customary to assume
that the result of such scepticism is to fasten the reagent's atten-
tion on the idea of keeping the operator away from the chosen
object. That such is frequently the case is shown by the fact
that with some subjects it suffices to change failure into success
by a shift in tactics, by following the line of most rather than
that of least resistance. What is sometimes called ' physio-
logical dishonesty ' issues therefore in expression, however
•In a semi-public test at the University of Wyoming, the writer once
attempted to effect a segregation of ' believer* ' and ' unbelievers ' by asking
spectators to seat themselves on the right if they thought they would be good
subjects for muscle-reading ; if not, to take seats on the left. The majority of
those so instructed took seats on the right. Subsequently, however, the state-
ment of the president of the university that he must sit with the ' unbelievers '
induced all but a handful of those who were already seated on the right to move
over to the left! With one exception, however, the ' unbelievers ' who were
tested proved as ' readable ' as the ' believers.' The president was found to be
an excellent subject.
272 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
difficult its interpretation, as evidently as does ' physiological
candor.'
Pfungst l reports that involuntary movements are affected by
faith. Even the most ' fit ' of the operators with Hans, the
horse, were unable to get answers from him when, according
to their understanding of the situation, conditions had been so
varied as to render success impossible. Pfungst also quotes
from records relative to table-tipping and wand-divining to show
that with the cessation of expectation of results none came.
Pfungst explains this inhibition of expression as the result of
diminished tension due to lack of faith in the outcome. Fre-
quently, however, attention is actually concentrated upon some-
thing other than it was before. The involuntary expression of
the thought, "The table won't tip " may be wholly different
from that accompanying the thought, " The table is going to
tip." Variation in muscular tension with variation in expecta-
tion must, however, be conceded.
Complete passivity in the face of actual concentration of at-
tention is much less frequent than misleading tension ; it is, in
fact, of such rare occurrence that the writer is ready to assert
such only in occasional tests with perhaps four or five subjects.2
Of course, the absence of all muscular indications could, even in
these cases, be charged to failure to concentrate sufficiently.
The writer who belongs to this group of subjects and whose
arm and hand during visual (though not verbal) concentration
of attention may remain perfectly limp, is inclined to believe
that muscle-reading actually reveals to some extent the facility
with which nervous energy is drained to the motor regions of
the cortex. The habitual absence of a high degree of expecta-
tion even when attention is concentrated would suggest several
interesting questions as to the mental constitution of a person
exhibiting such a tendency. Is it not possible that lack of readi-
ness toward a motor discharge might lead to weak expectation
as well as the reverse? If so, the relation of weak expectation
to a critical or neutral attitude would demand attention. In any
1 Op. tit., p. 112 f.
2 Such a statement must of course he taken with the understanding that the
operator's skill in perceiving muscular changes was limited.
MUSCLE READING. 2 73
case, one needs to distinguish between the subject who, through
disbelief in the operator's claims, attempts actually, though in-
voluntarily, to thwart him, and the subject who submits to the
test without expectation of any sort. The latter subject is the
harder one to handle.
In an effort to note what effects would result if the subject
were instructed to keep the reader from discovering the ob-
ject selected, tests of this sort were tried with eight guides. It
was found that if the guide tried to « fool ' the operator by actu-
ally concentrating on another object rather than the one selected,
he could succeed easily. On the other hand, the attempt to
keep the reader from success by making the mind a blank, by
relaxation or stiffening of the muscles, or by such verbal inhibi-
tion as saying, "You can find it," was a failure. These ex-
periments were few in number and, for the most part, tried only
upon particularly ' fit ' subjects. A series of experiments in
which various methods of inhibition should be tried would be of
value as a supplement to the tests to be reported later.
The degree to which expectation is excited by an anticipated
end and the tension which accompanies such expectation is
nicely determined in a series of tests in which expectation is
unsatisfied, for the anticipated result fails to occur. A few of
such tests were tried in connection with the present investiga-
tion. To bring about the desired conditions, it was necessary
to blindfold the guide as well as the reader and to instruct a
third person, in the absence of both, to remove the selected
article after the subject had placed it in position or else to block
the pathway to it. The results furnished pretty illustrations as
to the motor outcome of baffled expectation. Frequently, under
such conditions, the movements of exploration became exten-
sive. Nor did the subject always confine himself to explora-
tion of the immediate neighborhood ; he sometimes rambled
throughout the whole room. Other subjects in failing to realize
their expectation indulged in suppressed or overt exclama-
tions. A nervous fluttering of the hand, very difficult to
describe, frequently was noticed. H, one of the most valuable
subjects for this test because of the exceeding urgency of her
expectation, reported that failure to realize her expectation —
274 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
which always takes the form of confirming her visual image of
the object to be located — results in a complete blotting-out of
the object from memory. With the annihilation of the object,
the subject is ' lost,' a distressing experience, accompanied by
bewilderment and faintness and comparable to the subject's ex-
perience of being lost in a hazel-copse as a child. On at least
one occasion it resulted in a peculiar pain in the head. Mean-
while, the operator receives indications of the subject's state of
mind through the wild fluttering of the exploring hand, a flutter-
ing perfectly evident to the spectator as well as the operator but
of which the subject (when questioned later) reported unaware-
ness.
Pfungst l found that certain agents who worked with Hans
succeeded in obtaining answers at their first trial, but not there-
after. He explains this result on the ground that attention was
in the first trial at a higher tension than at any succeeding trial.
On the other hand, too great concentration frequently led to
premature relaxation of tension and resulted consequently in
errors on the part of the reagent. On the whole, practice was
needed in order to achieve the degree of tension required for
successful operations. After practice less effort was required
than at first. The present writer has noted similar facts, ex-
cept that after one success with a given subject she has never
found it difficult to achieve a second,2 although in one case sev-
eral failures intervened between the first and second success.
Usually, the first success conciliates the subject ; thereafter,
success is more and more easily achieved. There was mani-
festly less effort on the part of the subject in the later tests ;
there was less tension evident but more initiative.
Pfungst found that * Hans ' was, as percipient, very little
1 Op. dt., p. 148.
2 The difference between the muscle-reader and the percipient in Pfungst's
experiments, whether Hans or a human reagent, should be noticed. The
muscle-reader has the advantage, since by relaxation of the subject's muscles
and by such feints as tentative moves — moves made suddenly and sometimes
violently — he is able at times to surprise the guide into involuntary indica-
tions of the direction of attention. The operator who reacts to a visual per-
ception of an involuntary movement enjoys no such opportunity. The com-
pensating advantages are, of course, the greater precision and simplicity of the
latter test.
MUSCLE READING. 275
affected by the presence of spectators, although his human
partner in the test might be influenced by the social environ-
ment. In the present test the general effect of an audience
may be summarized as follows. Frequently, the presence of
spectators so embarrasses subjects as to render concentration of
attention difficult. Just as frequently, however, the conditions
increase expectation and magnify involuntary movements. The
writer is as operator rendered somewhat ' nervous ' and less
sure of herself by an audience. Blindfolding reduces this tim-
idity and a first success puts her at her ease. It is possible
that a first success also influences the attitude of later subjects
and renders success an easier matter. Moreover, spectators
frequently contribute to success by their movements in watching
the test, their variations in tension and relaxation made mani-
fest by differences in breathing and the like. No tests, there-
fore, in which a control of conditions was desired, was tried in
the presence of more than one spectator. When it was pos-
sible even this spectator was dismissed.
Other investigators, as Beard, have reported that a knowl-
edge on the part of the guide of the modus o-perandi had an
inhibitive effect. The writer never made any secret of the ex-
planation of muscle-reading. Frequently, in fact, the explana-
tion was given before the demonstration. It does not follow
that the explanation was accepted. One of the surprises of the
investigation has been the refusal of many subjects to accept
the writer's explanation of her success. One guide (H) insists
that she finds by actual experiment that when blindfolded she
is unable to move as directly and accurately to the object as the
reader does and that, therefore, the reader must be responsible
for the guidance. What is emphasized by such facts is the ex-
traordinary difficulty of bringing such involuntary movements
to attention. Only a few of the subjects tested by the writer
have ever succeeded in observing them even when warned to be
on the watch. Certain subjects were, however, put on their
guard by the explanation given them and it is unquestionable that
in the case of these few knowledge of the explanation rendered
success more difficult. When, however, success was achieved
these subjects were of all the most mystified. The vital ques-
276 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
tion whether these involuntary movements are merely unob-
served or actually unconscious is one which at this point the
writer is not prepared to discuss.
VI.
The second division of the discussion involves a considera-
tion of the degree of concentration needed for success. In the
present investigation no measurement of this was possible.
Pfungst's tests, in which a too intense concentration led to pre-
mature relaxation of tension with a resulting error, usually of
minus one, in the calculation and an insufficient concentration
led to an insufficient relaxation with an error of plus one or more
in the calculation, show with great precision the degree of atten-
tion attained. Nothing of the sort was possible in the tests
reported here except that the operator frequently observed
relaxation which was premature and therefore incorrectly
identified an object perhaps in the near neighborhood of the
correct one.
The interest in the present investigation turned rather upon
the effect upon involuntary movements of a shift in the method
by which attention was controlled. The experiments had not
gone far before the bearing upon success of the control utilized
was perceived. Success was achieved with some subjects more
easily with their eyes open than with their eyes closed. With
others these conditions were reversed. Again, there was fre-
quent report of a verbal control ; the guide, for instance, said
mentally, " It's the book over there on the radiator," or used
similar descriptions. Now the verbal method seemed to Dy and
Dw, both of whom concentrated on the object by focusing it
visually or by forming a mental picture of it, a strained and
artificial method of control. It therefore surprised them greatly
to discover that a shift in their own control from visual to verbal
assured success in their experiments upon one another, an issue
which up to the time of the shift had been an uncertain and
sporadic occurrence. It was also found that other difficult sub-
jects became docile when asked to concentrate verbally. More-
over, in the case of effective subjects, whose control was visual,
it was found that a shift from the visual to the verbal control
MUSCLE HEADING. 277
frequently resulted in more extensive movements and more pro-
nounced initiative. Evidently the matter of verbal control
deserved consideration.
Laurent l in the article previously quoted reports that the
guide in the muscle-reading tests was asked to form a visual
image of the object selected and also to think of the direction in
which it was necessary to move in order to get it. A method
of dichotomy was effective for the latter. The guide, that is,
thought 'left' or 'right.' Laurent makes no comment upon
the choice of verbal directions for the tests. In his experiments
upon thought-reading without contact, subjects who resort to
unconscious verbalization are of course necessary to the suc-
cess of the experiment if Laurent's explanation of success as
dependent upon hyperacousie on the part of the operator be
accepted. The interest in such tests is, however, fundamentally
different from that of the tests to be recorded in which the effect
of mental verbalization upon involuntary movements read
through contact is in question.
Pfungst 2 found that commands to * Hans ' spoken aloud were
frequently more effective than commands merely represented
mentally. This effectiveness was determined by the strong
tendency on the part of the experimenter to accompany such
spoken commands with involuntary movements, a stronger im-
pulse to such expression being present under such circumstances
than under the conditions of mere thought of the command.
With practice, however, overt or suppressed articulation could
be omitted for mental representation was sufficient to call out
the involuntary movement. Again,3 the observation was made
that some experimenters, failing to obtain results on account of
fatigue from previous tests, could again achieve success by a
shift from abstract calculations to concrete representations.
Pfungst's explanation of such facts is, I believe, based upon
the greater concentration of attention effected by overt articula-
tion of a command or by concrete perception of an object.
Such observations, whatever their explanation, are akin to those
that suggested the experiments now to be described.
1 P. 484-
1 Op. cit., p. 72 f.
lOp. cit., p. 108.
278 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
VII.
Before conducting a complete series of tests to determine the
relation between different modes of control, a somewhat crude
experiment on the efficiency of verbal control to induce involun-
tary movement was tried. Certain subjects, who had no knowl-
edge of the purpose of the test, were asked, instead of placing
an article, to memorize a sentence type-written on a slip of
paper and to repeat over and over mentally, while in contact
with the operator, the words so memorized. The sentences
were so worded as to rule out if possible visual imagery and
were purposely rendered as schematic as possible so as to iso-
late the verbal element. In order that when Dy served as reader
she might not be aware of the reading of the slip memorized,
seventeen of these slips were prepared some time before the ex-
periment was to be tried and the guide on the occasion of the
test drew at random one of them from the bundle. Two tests,
under these conditions, are quoted in full. In both of these
tests the same slip was drawn which read as follows : " Object
is eighteen inches above and six inches to the right of the lower
part of second obstruction which is two feet east of first obstruc-
tion which is three feet south and fifteen feet north of entrance."
The subject made, usually, no attempt to translate such instruc-
tions into terms of the surroundings in which the test was tried.
No suggestion was made that close adherence to the directions
would issue in finding a pin which was stuck into the under side
of a book-shelf. Both the operator and guide were blindfolded
before contact was established. The notes taken at time of the
tests follow.
"Mar. 4, 4 P. M. Reader, Dw. Guide, W. W mem-
orized slip 8. First trial, much initiative, but failure to discover
object. Dw went around the room, south, then east, then north,
then west, returning to starting point. Tendency noticed for
W to swing around Dw. Second trial. Care was taken that
W should be placed, by the spectator (the writer) facing the wall
so that directions if followed would result in success. This pre-
caution had been overlooked in the first trial. At start, tend-
ency for W to swing around Dw again noticed. Then success
in locating article in 90 s. Dw however approached the object
MUSCLE READING.
from the left instead of the right ; W's memory of the slip was
found to be faulty in this respect. W reported that he had no
visual consciousness during the test ; he repeated the words of
the slip over and over. His surprise at there being any out-
come to the experiment was great."
" May 7, 3 P. M. Reader, Dy. Guide, M. M memor-
ized slip 8. Thinking the test was to be one of distraction and
that the words memorized, which she supposed were meaning-
less, were to be repeated over and over so as to distract atten-
tion from the actual object, M hid an object on the ledge in the
southeast corner of the inner room. This object was com-
pletely blotted out by the repetition of the memorized words.
There was much initiative on M's part, as the slip directed.
Success in 80 s." The chart, kept by a third person, on which
the course taken was mapped out shows a certain amount of
circling movement before the article was located.
Both W and M are exceeding automatic in their movements ;
both show a strong tendency to use verbal imagery which issues
at times of difficulty in actual articulation. Other subjects gave
different results. H, for instance, immediately translated the
words read into visual terms, and remembered them in such
terms. She also visualized an object which should be found as
an outcome of the test. Such an object was specifically defined
as, for instance, " a small black ball about the size of a cherry
on a white string that is suspended from a nail above the black-
board." Failing to realize such an expectation, H becomes
confused and distressed.
VIII.
The general outcome of the tests showed, however, the
potency of verbal imagery in the initiation of involuntary move-
ment even when the words ideated are felt to have little mean-
ing. But further questions arose. For example, would verbali-
zation of the name of the object avail as did verbalization of the
direction in which the movement should be made? It seemed,
in fact, probable that the potency of the verbal method was due
to the enforcement in this manner of attention upon the pathway
and that any other method that threw attention upon the path-
way as definitely would be as effective.
280 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
Throughout the tests, it must be remembered, success is due
to the involuntary indication of the path to be followed in going
to the object. If this path be indicated, further consciousness
of the object is immaterial.
To determine, however, the motor effectiveness, involuntary
indication of the path to be followed, of various possible con-
trols, the eight following possibilities were selected for experi-
ment. The guide was required, that is, to concentrate by
instruction upon some particular element in the situation, (i)
The guide focused his eyes on the chosen object ; (2) the guide
focused his eyes on the pathway, step by step ; (3) with
eyes open and roving, the guide * verbalized' mentally the name
of the selected object ; (4) with eyes open and roving, the guide
* verbalized ' mentally the direction in which the reader should
move in order to reach the object ; (5) with eyes closed, the
guide visualized the object; (6) with eyes closed, the guide
visualized the pathway ; (7) with eyes closed, the guide mentally
' verbalized ' the name of the object ; (8) with eyes closed, the
guide mentally ' verbalized ' the direction in which the reader
should move in order to reach the object.
These particular methods were selected so as to determine,
if possible, the relative value in the induction of involuntary
movements of open versus closed eyes, concentration on the
pathway versus concentration on the object, concentration by
visual control versus concentration by verbal means. One
series of tests consisting of eight separate tests, one test each
under the different conditions suggested, would give four tests
each with closed and open eyes, with concentration on pathway
and on object, with concentration by visual and by verbal means.
In the earlier experiments the method of ' control ' was suggested
to the guide and the pathway traversed in finding the article
was carefully mapped ; the time taken for the location of the
article was also recorded. A comparison was then instituted
relative to the precision and rapidity of movement under the
several conditions of concentration.
Later, the experiment was rendered more definite by the
adoption of the two following methods, the second of which
proved the better and was finally used without recourse to the
MUSCLE READING. *8l
other. The first method attempted to determine the value of a
particular method of concentration by measuring the distance
traversed by the reader during a given time ; the second method
sought to measure the relative efficiency of the different methods
of concentration by recording the time that it took for the reader
to traverse a given distance.
The first method may be described in detail as follows : The
guide first chalked on the floor an irregular pathway, indicating
by cross-lines each meter-distance. The guide also prepared a
list of the eight methods to be used in concentration on the
object and then selected and indicated by number the order in
which he intended to use these methods. The reader blind-
folded was led to the beginning of the chalked path, contact
was established and a third person gave to the guide the signal
to begin concentration by gently touching him on the arm by
means of a long pointer, at the same time starting a stop-watch.
At the end of every twenty seconds, when the guide was sig-
naled to in similar fashion, he changed his method of concen-
tration. During the intervals the third person charted carefully
on a map that had previously been drawn to scale to correspond
to the chalked pathway, the pathway the reader followed. Thus
every deviation from the correct pathway, or, if none, the exact
space traversed in any given twenty seconds could be deter-
mined. The value of this method lay in its throwing into sharp
relief the variations in muscular tension effected by a shift in
mental control.
In the second method, simple irregular pathways, always
three meters in length but varying in form, were chalked by the
guide and the time needed for the reader to traverse these path-
ways under the conditions of the several tests was recorded by
the use of a stop-watch. In these tests the object was in every
case the same, namely, a piece of chalk placed on a chair at the
end of the pathway. The short pathway and the easily identi-
fied object were purposely chosen in order to shorten the time
needed for controlled concentration and to simplify the identi-
fication of the object. As before, the reader was blindfolded
and then led to the beginning of the pathway.
It was essential throughout that the reader be in complete
282 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
ignorance of the particular method of concentration used in a
specific test and that she refrain from making tentative moves,
waiting passively in each case to receive the initiative from the
guide. It was also desirable that the guide have no idea of the
particular purpose of the test, for suggestion as to the results
anticipated would no doubt affect the outcome. In the case of
Dw and Dy as guides this last condition could not be fulfilled.
As, however, the course of the previous experiments had unex-
pectedly revealed the varying effectiveness of different methods
of concentration, these tests served to put into more precise form
conclusions that had already been reached in the course of the
preliminary experiments.
In general, the following sources of error were present. On
the part of the guide, failure to control attention in the way de-
sired on account of lack of practice or, at times, on account of
fatigue ; on the part of the reader, variations in skill due to
fatigue or anticipation. Moreover, the reader's observation of
muscular conditions was defective since any attempt to throw
attention upon such during the course of the experiment was apt
to interfere with the passivity so essential to success. With in-
creasing practice, such observations interfered less and less with
skillful reading. The reader, as was said above, refrained
from tentative moves ; to assert absolute absence of initiative
would, however, be impossible.
An important preliminary test was that tried in order to ascer-
tain the method used naturally by the guide when asked to con-
centrate on an object. By reference to this test it was attempted
to determine whether or not the natural method of control were
the most effective one from the reader's standpoint. After prac-
tice with any particular subject, the reader found it possible to
name with considerable accuracy the method of concentration
that the subject was using in a particular test. The constancy
with which variations in muscular tension ensued upon changed
conditions was surprising, although such changes became less
noticeable after the series of tests had been repeated many times,
with a given subject.
MUSCLE READING. 283
IX.
In discussing results, the tests upon Dy and Dw will be first
considered. Each it will be recalled served as reader or guide
for the other. Both were difficult subjects to handle. Although
verbalization occurred at times, both concentrated on the object,
for the most part, visually. With Dw serving as guide there
was considerable initiative, apparently in the direction of the
eye-movements. The reader frequently went directly toward
the chosen object at the beginning of the test ; then withdrew
and rambled aimlessly, although apparently in obedience to
Dw's initiative. Identification of the object was exceedingly
difficult, even when it was touched. Both premature and insuf-
ficient relaxation were noticed. When Dy attempted to read
slowly instead of rapidly and rendered herself unusually pas-
sive, waiting in every instance for the motor impulse to begin
with the head, success was more apt to be achieved. If Dy at-
tempted tentative movements, Dw responded with the suggested
movement. Dy, on the contrary, was as guide absolutely pas-
sive ; her hand hung limp. Dw reported that it was necessary
to pull her forcibly if movement were to be initiated at all. It
should, however, be stated that frequently Dy and Dw would
each insist that in a particular instance the other had taken the
initiative. With Dy as guide, distraction of attention rendered
success more likely to occur. This result did not occur in the
case of Dw. In the earlier experiments, up to May 15, before,
that is, any attempt was made to control the method of concen-
tration, Dw as reader worked with Dy as guide some fifteen
different times. In five of these tests Dy's attention was dis-
tracted from the object by counting aloud. In the ten experi-
ments without distraction, success or partial success occurred
four times ; in the five tests with distraction, three times ; seven
successes in all. With Dy as reader and Dw as guide, seven-
teen tests were tried; twelve without and five with distraction.
Seven successes or partial successes occurred when there was
no distraction ; one, when there was distraction ; eight successes
in all. By a partial success is meant the approach towards and
perhaps selection of the chosen article without confident identi-
fication of it.
284 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
The notes on the tests tried May 15 include the following
statement: "Today's success may be due to the guide's
method of concentration of attention on the object or may be
due to the reader's unfatigued condition." In any case, on
that day, for the first time, attention was controlled according
to instruction, the * controls ' suggested including one in which
verbal suggestions were mentally given as to the proper direc-
tion of movement. This ' control ' resulted, both when the eyes
were open and when they were closed, in rapid and easy suc-
cess. On this occasion, Dy served as reader and Dw as guide.
May 20, the roles were reversed and again the mental giving
of verbal directions proved successful, although success was
more slowly achieved than on the previous occasion. The de-
liberate attempt to control attention, whatever the method used,
probably resulted, on the whole, in actual increase of attention
to the object with less consciousness of inhibition of the guide's
movements. The tests that followed introduced systematic con-
trol of attention and attempted to determine the value of each
different * control ' by a determination of the extent of move-
ment during a given interval, the course followed by the reader
being mapped out carefully as described in the first method.
Although there was considerable variation in detail, it be-
came evident from eight series of tests in which Dy served as
FIG. i. i, 9, eyes open, 'verbalized' pathway ; 2, 10, eyes closed, visualized
pathway; 3, n, eyes open, fixated pathway; 4, 12, eyes open, fixated object;
5, 13, eyes closed, visualized object ; 6, 14, eyes open, ' verbalized ' object ; 7,
15, eyes closed, 'verbalized' object; 8, 16, eyes closed, 'verbalized' pathway.
guide, that concentration on the path induced much more move-
ment than did concentration on the object. Moreover, a verbal
concentration on the path was a more reliable method than was
MUSCLE READING. 285
control by visual means. Verbal concentration on the object
had little effect. Holding a visual image for any length of time
requires great effort on Dy's part, although chalking the path-
way lessens the effort required to visualize the path. Fig. i
reproduces the chalked pathway used in the test of July 15.
The diagram is drawn to scale, a centimeter for a meter. The
cross-lines indicate the places at which the control of attention
was shifted, such a shift occurring every twenty seconds. The
numbers on the figure indicate the sort of ' control ' utilized by
the guide as interpreted in the legend below the figure. The
distance moved by the reader during any particular twenty-
second interval can be determined by the distance between any
two cross-lines ; the method used by the guide in concentrating
attention can be seen by reference to legend. Where numbers
or cross-lines appear to fall off the path, hesitation (without ad-
vance) is indicated. In this test the reader never left the path-
way, although during several intervals there was no apparent
progress.
Dw when serving as guide gave somewhat different and, on
the whole, less constant results. As suggested before, Dw's
attention is apt to be diverted by visual stimuli when her eyes
are open. This observation accords with the fact that in the
tests now being described concentration on the path, by what-
ever means, issued in success if the eyes were closed. Thus
verbal concentration with the eyes closed proved more effective
than the same method of control when the eyes were open.
Visualizing the pathway, with closed eyes, was also an effec-
tive method of control.
At this point in the experiment the method was shifted to
that described as the second method (see section VIII.). The
value of each method of concentration was now estimated by
the time taken by the reader in traversing a three-meter path-
way. The results of this test confirmed those obtained in the
preceding test, so far as Dy was concerned. The results from
Dw were ambiguous and unfortunately circumstances made it
necessary to bring the investigation on this guide to a premature
close. The full notes on a test with Dy are given ; Dw served
as reader.
286 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
" Dy when serving as guide notices a strong tendency to
close the eyes when focusing the eyes on the object or on the
pathway. This tendency is perhaps due to the fact that mean-
ing evaporates from a visual perception after a few seconds
steady concentration upon it. On the other hand, distinct
visualization (mental) affords intense concentration for a few
seconds, after which the visual image fades completely and there
is a strong desire to open the eyes and get a new picture. While
controlling attention by the use of mental verbalization, there is
little need of inhibiting visual control. During visual concen-
tration, all sort of irrelevant verbalization occurs. Strangely,
Dy serving as operator notices no such tendency to verbaliza-
tion ; at frequent intervals, a stray visual image of the pathway
or of surroundings enters consciousness. The specific tests
resulted as follows :
"i. Dy gave, mentally, with eyes roving, verbal directions
to Dw. Dy said, ' To right ' ; then * Towards telephone ' ; then,
' Straight ahead.' Strong tendency noticed to look in direc-
tion named. Dy deliberately kept eyes from direction named.
After words were once determined upon, Dy could repeat them
mechanically. Success, 72 seconds.
"2. Dy closed eyes and formed a mental image of the
object (a piece of chalk). Muscles were very tense. The
reader got off the path, but brushed terminal chair, which caused
chalk to rattle. This shortened discovery. Dy took no initiative.
There was long hesitation before the reader moved. After the
first seconds Dy found visualization very difficult. She opened
her eyes occasionally to get a new picture of the chalk. There
was also some difficulty experienced in ruling out the visual
picture of the chalked pathway. Strong tendency to turn head
and closed eyes toward object. When they were deliberately
turned aside there was great tension in the neck-muscles. Dy
found herself saying mentally, ' I can see it ! I can see it ! '
Success, 126 seconds.
"3. Dy visualized the pathway, which, to assist the process,
had been chalked in the form of an equilateral triangle. Muscles
were reported to be less tense than in the preceding experiment.
Dy found no difficulty in shutting out an image of the object.
MUSCLE READING. 287
There was a good mental picture of the triangle, but suddenly
the triangle shifted its position in the room, which induced con-
fusion. Dy was obliged to open her eyes and fixate the triangle
again in order to get it in proper position. She verbalized
involuntarily, 'I've got the triangle!' and as Dw advanced,
* That's right ! ' Success, 67 seconds. Test to be tried again.
"4. Dy repeated over and over again with eyes closed, the
word ' Chalk,' actually innervating tongue and lips. There was
no overt articulation. The verbalization was largely automatic ;
there was no meaning to it ; the object was forgotten ; attention
was actually on the movements of the jaw. Once, there was a
flash in Dy's consciousness of a picture of the pathway, accom-
panied by a picture of the whole floor of the laboratory. Once,
the piece of chalk was seen mentally. Dw reported that the
muscles of the wrist were tenser in the earlier than in the later
part of the test. Pathway was not followed accurately. Suc-
cess, 102 seconds.
"5. Dy watched the pathway step by step. Dw followed
the pathway accurately. Dy found it hard to inhibit verbaliza-
tion of thoughts on a topic foreign to the experiment. Unless
Dw moved so as to change the point of visual fixation, the
whole process lost meaning for Dy. Success, 133 seconds.
" 6. Dy focused her eyes on the object. It was 40 seconds
before the first movement was made. Dy verbalized mentally,
* It's no trouble to look at it ! ' Then her attention wandered
and the object became unmeaning. Dy said mentally ' Dw
should be blindfolded ; it would be easy for her to open her
eyes,' then, as Dw left the pathway, ' I must remember to enter
in the notes that she got off the path and rambled.' At last, Dy
feared failure ; she said mentally, * I must concentrate ! ' With
great effort she inhibited verbalization. Success, 245 seconds.
"7. Test 3 was repeated (visualization of pathway). Good
control ; visualization excellent ; verbalization inhibited most of
the time, although once Dy said, ' I mustn't open my eyes ! ' and
again, ' If I don't talk to myself, I won't have to write such a
long report.' Pathway was followed pretty accurately. Suc-
cess, 148 seconds.
" 8. With eyes closed, Dy told the reader, mentally, in what
288 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
direction she should move. She said * Straight ahead ; straight
ahead.' Muscles were relaxed. There was no visual imagery ;
no effort. Success, 60 seconds.
"9. With eyes roving, Dy < verbalized ' mentally the word
' chalk ' ! It was ninety seconds before Dw moved. Dw then
rambled over a big part of the room. The locating of the chair
was perhaps accidental. Success, 235 seconds.
Arranging the tests in the order of time required for location
of the object and beginning with the test requiring the least
time, we get the following arrangement : (i) Eyes closed, ver-
balization of direction of movement, 60 s. ; (2) eyes open, ver-
balization of direction of movement, 72 s. ; (3) eyes closed,
verbalization of the name of the object, 102 s. ; (4) eyes closed,
visualization of the object, 126 s. ; (5) eyes opened, focused on
the pathway, 133 s. ; (6) eyes closed, visualization of the path-
way, 138 s. ; (7) eyes open, verbalization of the name of the
object, 235 s. ; (8) eyes open, focused on object, 245 s. It
was unfortunate that the series could not be repeated many times
as was done in the case of other guides. Dw's help was needed
as reader and, as was stated above, circumstances prohibited
Dw's further assistance.
How very slowly the reading went when Dy served as guide
may be realized by a comparison of the time-reading in her case
and in the case of H, whose record remains to be discussed. In
H's case, the maximum time-reading in nine complete series
of eight tests each, was 25 s. ; the minimum time-requirement
was 4.5 s.
X.
H, as a guide in the test, affords, in almost every respect, a com-
plete contrast to Dy. H has served so frequently as a subject for
the writer that before beginning the series on muscle-reading,
the writer was aware of many of the features of her mental
make-up. She knew, for instance, that H gives evidence of
automatic tendencies ; that, for H, to think and to act are almost
synchronous; that long mental hesitation is for H distasteful.
H's mental stuff is visual to a higher degree perhaps than that
of any other person the writer has ever tested. It is not only
visual but concretely visual and circumstantial to the last detail.
MUSCLE READING. 289
In anticipating a committee meeting, for instance, H sees each
individual member of the committee in the proper environment.
The mental picture includes the least details, even to the shoe-
strings that lace A's and B's shoes. Moreover, in her visual-
ization, H never departs from the dictates of experience. A
description of a bird occurs in her reading ; immediately, she
illustrates the text with a mental photograph of a little gray bird
that she saw, a year ago, sitting on the lower branch of the
cottonwood tree that stands at the corner of M and N streets.
Proof-reading with the writer one day, H stumbled over the
accent of the word * automatic.' Finally she remarked, " I've
got it now. I've put a little picture of Tom H. over the letters
'torn.'"
H was a most effective subject in the present tests. The
results she gave were constant ; her introspections were of high
value. Her only difficulty lay in the inhibition of visual control
when it was desired to isolate verbal control. To do this com-
pletely is painful ; as said before, H under such conditions
feels ' lost.'
The writer has record, with full notes, of some ninety muscle-
reading tests carried on, by Dy, with H as subject. From nine
series of three-meter tests (eight tests in each series, eight different
' controls' being used as described in section VIII.), the follow-
ing curves were prepared. The value of each ' control ' in its
own series was determined by the length of time taken to trav-
erse the three-meter path, previously chalked. Each test was
given a rank in its own series, the possible ranks numbering
from one to eight. When two tests took the same time, they
were given the same rank. From the seventy-two tests the fol-
lowing curves were obtained. The horizontal numerals repre-
sent the possible ranks in the series ; the vertical numerals
represent the actual number of times each rank was received by
the control in question. Six curves were plotted : the first
(Curve I.) shows the comparative effectiveness of * control '
when attention is on the pathway and when it is on the object ;
the second (Curve II.) shows the comparative effectiveness of
visual and verbal 'control'; the third (Curve III.) shows the
comparative effectiveness of the ' control ' with the eyes open
and with the eyes closed.
290
JUNE E. DOWNEY.
From these curves it is evident that success was achieved in
shorter time when the object was focused and the attention with-
No. of times Rank was received.
No. of times Rank was received.
T — i
- Attention on Object.
---- Attention on Pathway.
Ranks.
1 3 y $• fc 7
Verbal Attention.
Visual Attention.
» Ranks.
Curve I. Subject H. Curve II. Subject H.
No. of times Rank was received.
7 r Ranks.
Eyes Closed.
Eyes Open.
Curve III. Subject H.
drawn from the pathway. Mental verbal control, on the whole,
induced slightly more rapid movement than did visual control.
It made very little difference in rapidity of the test whether the
MUSCLE READING. 291
eyes were open or were closed, although, if the results permit
generalization, the 'control' was slightly more effective when
the eyes were closed. Adding together the ranks received in
the nine series by the different ' controls, 'the lower numeral in-
dicating the more rapid initiative, results as follows : Attention
on the subject, 123; attention on the pathway, 176; verbal
attention, 144; visual attention, 155 ; * control ' with eyes closed,
148 ; * control ' with eyes open, 151. If one sums the ranks in
the nine series for each of the eight ' controls, the following
ranking occurs : Eyes closed, visual image of object at focus of
attention, 27 ; eyes closed, attention on verbal naming of object,
31 ; eyes opened, focused on object, 31 ; eyes open and roving,
attention on mental ' verbalization ' of name of object, 34 ; eyes
closed, attention on ' verbalization ' of direction of movement
38 ; eyes open, attention on ' verbalization 'of direction of move-
ment, 41 ; eyes open, visual focusing of pathway, step by step,
45 ; eyes closed, visualization of pathway, step by step, 52. In
time, the tests took from 4.5 seconds to 25 seconds. In 65 per
cent, of the seventy-two tests, the time-reading is below 8
seconds.
Following the pathway is such an automatic process for H
that any attempt to focus it voluntarily involves effort of atten-
tion. The notes show that when attention was thrown upon the
pathway, the muscles of the wrist and arm stiffened, the initia-
tive was very slow and very precise, and there was every indi-
cation of effort. Although H very rarely succeeded in wholly
ruling out visual imagery — a mental picture of the chalked path
in whole or part was usually present more or less clearly — any
attempt to throw visual imagery into the foreground resulted in
increased tension. A visual concentration on the pathway led
to the most accurate and precise tracing of the pathway. Con-
centration on the object reduced the muscular tension and quick-
ened the process of reading. Mental naming of the object
proved very effective. When allowed to select her own method
of ' control,' H resorted naturally to visual concentration on the
object, which, as the results of the tests show, was a very effec-
tive method.
H's guidance in muscle-reading is pronounced. Frequently
292 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
all that is necessary is to place one's self in advance of H, estab-
lish contact (although contact is often unnecessary, probably),
and then to move forward with her. Verbal control, especially,
issues in extensive movements on the part of the whole body ;
there is a very free swinging movement on the part of the arms.
The change to the muscular tension that accompanied a visual
focusing of the pathway and the insistence upon the precise
tracing of this pathway was very noticeable. Of her initiative,
H is unaware, and as stated before, argues that the reader must
be responsible for the direct location of the object since she her-
self finds it impossible, when blindfolded, to locate it voluntarily
as accurately and directly as the reader does in the test. This
statement led to trial of the time that it took H voluntarily to
pace a three-meter path, similar to those used in the tests. The
time-readings ran from 4 seconds to 8.5 seconds, with this
curious result that, with her eyes closed, H actually did find it
difficult to move directly to the terminal chair. If she actually
ruled out of consciousness a picture of the chalked pathway,
there was much facial contortion and an incoordination of move-
ment that contrasted strangely with the quickness and precision
of the involuntary movements.
XI.
Besides the tests on H, the three-meter tests were repeated
on J, C and R.
J was, like H, a good subject for muscle-reading. The time-
readings in eight series of tests (eight tests to a series) ran from
4 seconds to 36.2 seconds, with 68 per cent, of the time-read-
ings below 8 seconds. It was found with J, as with H, that con-
centration on the object gave a shorter time-reading than did
concentration on the pathway. The curves plotted to show the
comparative effectiveness of such ' controls ' in the case of J
closely resemble those found for H. Voluntary concentration
of attention upon the pathway resulted as in the former case in
effort, greater muscular tension, and slower initiative. In J's
case, however, and this in contrast to that of H, a verbal ' con-
trol ' induced quicker initiative than did a visual ' control.'
Naming the object mentally was by far the most effective
MUSCLE READING.
method for J. Visualizing at first required distinct effort, al-
though during the course of the experiments this effort lessened
and the muscular tension under such conditions became less
noticeable. Closing the eyes raised the time-readings over
those found when the eyes were open. When uninstructed, J
uses verbal imagery of some sort.
The results with C were less well defined than those obtained
with J and H. The time-readings ran from 7.4 seconds to 215
seconds, with 50 per cent, of the readings below 20 seconds.
C showed a strong tendency to move in the direction of his eye-
movements. Visual fixation of the object resulted in cutting of
the pathway. When the eyes were roving, this tendency led
to rambling, particularly if attention was maintained by verbali-
zation of the name of the object. The closing of C's eyes
made identification of the object a difficult matter for the oper-
ator. In general, success was more rapidly achieved when the
object, rather than the path, was fixated, and much more rapidly
achieved with a visual than with a verbal « control.' Closing
the eyes and giving verbal directions retarded the movement but
issued in a precise retracing of the pathway. Focusing the
eyes on the object proved to be the quickest method.
R (two series, of eight tests each) gave results very similar
to those found with Dy. R was an exceedingly difficult sub-
ject to handle. Concentration on the pathway, particularly by
verbal means resulted in success, although the reading was a
severe drain upon the operator's attention. Visual fixation of
the pathway also permitted success, so also, on one occasion,
did a visual fixation of the object. Mental visualization on R's
part resulted in failure on the part of the operator. As a matter
of fact, R reports that he cannot be said actually to visualize
at all. He knows how an object looks but cannot see it men-
tally. The time-readings ran from 11.4 seconds (verbal con-
centration on the direction of movement) to 223 seconds (visual
fixation of the path). It should perhaps be noted that in the
first few experiments, R gave evidence of much more involun-
tary movement than he did afterwards. He became conscious
of his initiative and thereafter inhibited it deliberately. Dy's
success under such conditions surprised him greatly. R showed
294 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
a strong tendency to lead to the chair and object of the test just
preceding the one actually in progress.
XII.
Besides these tests on the subjects named, Dy tried one series
each on nine other subjects. It was hoped to determine in this
way whether or not any general tendencies were to be observed.
One series each was probably insufficient for the purpose. The
fourteen subjects taken together show that in the first test at
least concentration on the pathway was on the whole very much
more effective than concentration on the object ; concentration
by verbal means slightly more effective than concentration by
visual means ; and concentration with closed eyes more effec-
tive than concentration with the eyes open.
The individual, and not the group, results are of the greater
interest. In a few cases, verbal concentration alone induced
involuntary movements. Frequently, even with subjects in
whom visual ' control ' issued in involuntary motor impulsion,
the verbal concentration induced freer and, apparently, more
automatic movements. With one guide this shift from precise
to free rambling movements occurred with the change from con-
centration with eyes closed to concentration with eyes open.
With his eyes open, this guide (T) moved in a free rambling way
toward the object upon which his eyes fell, the direction of
movement shifting frequently.
The results obtained in the series of experiments under con-
sideration may be summarized as follows. Those guides in
whom the motor impulse is strong, under all conditions, indicate
the direction of attention by motor initiative. This initiative
is, however, retarded, although frequently rendered more pre-
cise, by concentration on the pathway, that is, on the direction
of movement.
Those guides in whom the motor impulse is less insistent, if
the experiment be a long one, frequently find their attention
weakened by the conditions of the test. If, however, attention
be thrown on the -pathway (direction of movement), the motor
impulse is increased, and attention is maintained by the shift of
the point of fixation.
MUSCLE READING. 295
Verbal control produces, in general, a freer and usually
less accurate initiative than does a visual control. The actual
innervation of the vocal musculature may possibly have general
motor accompaniments. Verbal control frequently rendered
success possible -with subjects other -wise refractory. Verbaliza-
tion merely of the name of the object selected occasionally caused
extensive rambling, at times in the direction of the eye-move-
ments; for others, it induced a cutting of the pathway.
In the case of certain subjects, -who moved in the direction
of eye-fixation and that too without conscious direction of atten-
tion toward any particular object in the field of vision, blind-
folding was contributory to success.
XIII.
The third question phrased for discussion related to the au-
tomatic tendencies revealed in muscle-reading with reference to
Beard's and Laurent's observation that the guide's obsession by
the suggested idea not only induces very extensive and free
movements but also increases the probability of automatic activ-
ities of various sorts. The present tests gave frequent evidence
of such automatism ; the freedom and extent of the guide's in-
itiative were, moreover, very surprising under such conditions.
The peculiar automatic tendencies observed in connection
with muscle-reading have been rehearsed by the writer in an-
other article.1 To list them briefly, they include success in the
location of an object although the attention of the guide is dis-
tracted from the object ; recapitulation of the pathway followed
by the guide in hiding or selecting the object of the test ; a re-
turn to the chosen article of a preceding test, or to one thought-
of as a possible object for the present test ; an early indication
of the level at which the article is actually hidden. The three-
meter tests revealed a tendency on the part of the guide to re-
turn to the beginning of the chalked pathway if the operator
went ' astray,' with, as before, a tendency to locate the chair
and object of the preceding test rather than the object of the
present test.
1 'Automatic Phenomena of Muscle-Reading, 'Jour, of Phil., Psychol. and
Scientific Methods, Vol. V., p. 650.
296 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
Such occurrences as those mentioned in the preceding para-
graph could be artificially induced by the experimenter. The
suggestion of a spectator that an object selected and placed in
position by the guide should be rejected for another chosen by
the spectator often induced a location of both articles. An
experiment, called for brevity the ' either-or ' test was also
interesting in its outcome, although this varied with the indi-
vidual tested. In this experiment, a third person selected and
hid the object, stating to the guide, who was blindfolded, that
it had been placed ' either ' in one described locality ' or ' in a
second. To cite a particular case. J was told that the object
had been placed ' either' on a high cabinet at the west side of
the inner room 'or' on a low table at the north end. J decided
to concentrate on the low table north and guided the operator
thither, but all the movements of exploration were high up at a
level with the cabinet. For a more detailed description of the
conditions under which similar automatic activities occurred,
the reader is referred to the article cited above.
The point of interest is the possible revelation of the ' mental
set ' even when attention is not concentrated rigorously or is
concentrated upon something other than is revealed by the
involuntary movements. Success in locating an object with
the guide's attention distracted from it and the tendency to
reveal involuntarily the location of an object previously thought-
of, although at the moment of the test the guide's attention
is concentrated upon something else are interesting features of
the experiment. The persistence of an idea even after it has
been dismissed from the field of attention is cited by Pfungst l
as a source of error in his experiments. In his numerical tests
such persistence of an idea, called by him after Miiller and
Pilzecker, 'die Perseverationstendenz,' resulted in the operator
tapping a number corresponding to one previously thought-of
rather than the number thought-of at the moment of test. The
point here to be emphasized is that in such an instance, at least,
the concentration of attention upon the desired idea is less
effectual in the induction of involuntary movements, than is the
subconscious or co-conscious second idea.
1 Op. cit., p. 106 f.
MUSCLE READING. 297
The results obtained in the three-meter tests, in which at-
tention was voluntarily controlled, were similar in a way to the
observation of the great effectiveness of subconscious ideas in
revealing the direction of attention. The fact that the most im-
pulsive subjects gave freer initiative than usual when attention
was withdrawn from the pathway, although following this path-
way accurately, is a case in point. The difference in muscular
tension accompanying a labored concentration and an automatic
initiative is perfectly evident to the operator. As has been
stated, the latter was frequently able to tell the subject at the
close of a test, the method utilized in the concentration of at-
tention.
It is evident then that the most « fit ' subjects for muscle-read-
ing tests will frequently exhibit automatic activities. Success
will also be possible with subjects who are able to hold their at-
tention steadily to a desired object. For brilliant success a cer-
tain amount of automatism on the part of the guide is required.
Laurent's l experiments upon muscle-reading without con-
tact emphasized the fact that those subjects who were most ob-
sessed by the suggested idea resorted unconsciously to sup-
pressed articulation and that the operator, if also automatic in
his tendencies, was brought by the test into an abnormally pas-
sive state of mind in which he heard unconsciously the verbali-
zation of the guide.
In the present test the writer was on the outlook for any
cases of pronounced verbal automatism. One or two striking
instances of it occurred. Thus W when baffled would speak
aloud and report, when questioned, that he was unaware of hav-
ing said anything. The movements of M's lips became notice-
able whenever she became absorbed in an experiment. H,
when voluntarily controlling attention by mental verbalization,
actually whispered at times to herself. So far, however, as
she is aware, Dy was in no case guided by audition. In the
two or three cases where she heard the suppressed whispering
she misunderstood the words ; in none of these cases did she
permit such direction to supersede guidance by touch. Oper-
ating without contact, Dy is still dependent upon her perception
1 Loc. dt., p. 489 f.
298 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
of variation in the guide's movements ; at most, she guides her-
self auditorially by noting variations in breathing and footstep.
Very little attention, on the whole, was given, in the present
investigation, to the auditory factor.
XIV.
The main interest in the present investigation was, as stated
in the early part of the paper, to discover if possible a method
of studying mental types. This purpose has been in part
achieved, although a more rigid control of conditions would
have been desirable.
Apart from limitations of this sort, the acquaintance that the
muscle-reader gets with the expressive side of mental situations
and with the individual variations in such expression is most
striking.
First of all, the varying impulsiveness of subjects is notice-
able. The extent of this variation was, as the foregoing report
shows, very great.' One would wish to determine the bearing
of such varying impulsiveness upon the whole character of the
subject. The writer's general knowledge of the subjects of her
muscle-reading tests has led her to expect that the * fit ' subjects
for the test will, on the whole, be those who in daily life exhibit
few inhibitions either in judgment or action, who are hopeful
and confident in their attitude toward things. The opposing
type includes those more hesitant in act and judgment, more
critical and reserved. How far the temperament is an expres-
sion of variation in the readiness of the motor discharge is a
question worth detailed consideration. How far also the nervous
energy released by concentration of attention is drained other-
wise than through involuntary movements is of interest. No
doubt this draining may take place in various ways, with con-
sequent effect upon temperament.1
Eight subjects of the muscle-reading tests were also tested
in their ability to maintain writing under distracted attention.2
1Manouvrier, L,., 'Mouvements divers et sueur palmaire conse"cutifs a des
images mentales,' Revue philosophique, 1886, 22, p. 204 ff.
2 Downey, J. E., 'Control Processes in Modified Hand- Writing,' Part II.,
Monograph Supplement, PSYCHOI,. REV., Vol. IX., No. 37.
MUSCLE READING. 299
The writing of the impulsive subject, under distraction, issued
in a large free hand with frequent unawareness of the writing
and repetitionary or persistence lapses. For the more self-con-
trolled subject, writing under such conditions issued in writing
small and labored, controlled consciously and with effort.
Varying impulsiveness was not, however, the only individual
difference thrown into relief by the tests under consideration.
Variations in the conditions under which the muscle-reading
took place could be introduced almost without end and every
such variation showed further possibilities as to the revelation
of character by such means. Volitional tendencies so-called
came out distinctly in the tests in which the subject found him-
self, unexpectedly, baffled. This baffling was effected by re-
moving the object after the guide had placed it in position or by
blocking the pathway by which the subject supposed it could
be reached. Certain subjects were resolute and unfaltering in
their insistence that the operator surmount any obstacle in her
path ; others, after a moment's hesitation, tried another way
round, still others gave up at the first hint of a difficulty. The
momentary ' pause ' with which certain subjects reacted to the
difficulty before initiating other movement contrasted strangely
with the ' wild ' explorations of others. The movements, it
should be understood, were usually involuntary variations in
muscular tension, not overt movements.
The ' either-or ' test described a few pages back introduced
an instructive variation in the conditions. The vacillation of
attention with which certain guides met the situation threw into
relief the quick decision of others.
It is difficult to comprehend without first-hand experience the
wonderful accuracy of the operator's response to the slightest
variation in the guide's muscular tension. H, for instance, has
as guide placed a clock on a ledge above a long table which is
three and a half feet wide and flat against the wall. On Dy's
arrival at the table, H begins to chuckle mentally, thinking,
"She can never reach it!" Dy raises herself on tiptoe and
leans over the table, exclaiming " I can never reach it !" H
sees in a visual flash Dy climbing the table and Dy actually
pulls herself over the table and gets the clock. Such delicacy
300 JUNE E. DOWNEY.
in reaction gives the operator a unique acquaintance with the
guide's mental processes, his uncertainty, his timidity, the course
of his deliberations. The awkwardness of one of the writer's
friends was thus realized in a new and unexpected manner
when with this friend serving as her guide, she felt herself
* backing-up ' to the object in a most ludicrous manner.
Muscle-reading affords a new method for investigating
certain features of bodily orientation. The blindfolding of
guides issued in instructive results. Not merely the timidity of
some, under such limitations, and the confident orientation of
others was noticed but also certain peculiarities of adjustment.
A tendency on the part of the operator to indicate a position
symmetrically homologous to that actually thought of by the
guide was noticed by Romanes in the early English investiga-
tion and has also been recorded once or twice in the present
investigation. Whirling a subject around several times rapidly
after he has been blindfolded and before the test is on serves to
complicate the latter peculiarly. Turning the guide adrift
blindfolded in an unfamiliar room in which the object to be
located has been placed for him by a third person and the place
of location carefully described is an interesting test especially
if the guide be a very impulsive one. The notes the writer has
collected on this topic she is reserving for fuller treatment at
some later time.
One of the most interesting traits that the muscle-reading
tests revealed was the tendency to revert automatically to a past
condition. This tendency described a few pages back has been
extensively treated by Miiller and Pilzecker l in connection with
their experiments on memory. The persistence in the present
tests was a motor rather than a sensory persistence. The
authors mentioned above dilate at some length upon the general
effect of such a tendency upon character as a whole. They
admit, however, that the tendency may show itself in a particu-
lar situation without being a common feature in all the reac-
tions of a particular subject. The tendency is one meriting
more elaborate investigation in all its various forms.
1 Miiller, G. E-, tmd Pilzecker, A., ' Experimentelle Beitrage zur Lehre
vom Gedachtnis,' Zeitschrift fur Psychol. und Physiol. der Sinnesorgane, 1900,
Erganzungsband, I., p. 53 ff.
MUSCLE READING. 301
That muscle-reading threw into relief certain peculiarities
in imagery type is apparent from the course of the paper and
needs no further elaboration at this point.
On the whole, the writer has been greatly impressed with
the possibilities muscle-reading affords for certain sorts of investi-
gation. She has been impressed with the exceeding delicacy
of the expressive side of the mental life and, above all, impressed
with the minimal awareness of the subject as to the nature of
such expression.
302 A NNO UNCEMENT.
ANNOUNCEMENT.
During Professor Baldwin's temporary absence in Europe,
MSS. for this section of the REVIEW may be sent to Professor
John B. Watson, The Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.
Professor Watson from now on becomes one of the editors
of the REVIEW.
N. S. VOL. XVI. No. 5. September, 1909.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.
TIME-RELATIONS OF THE AFFECTIVE
PROCESSES.1
BY TAIZO NAKASHIMA, PH.D.
I. STUDY BY THE DIRECT REACTION METHOD.
Experiments with Color Combinations.
The problem of the present investigation was twofold, —
first, the determination of the time necessary for the arousal of
an affection ; and secondly, that of the dependence of affective
intensity upon the duration of stimulus. The apparatus used
was Hering's modification of Ludwig's kymograph. A long
roll of paper, on which thirty-two color combinations were
pasted, was stretched around the drum and the cylinder. The
observer sat at a distance of about i m. from the screen, which
stood close to the drum, and had an oblong window (3x5 cm.).
Two colored papers combined horizontally served as stimulus, and
the line of junction was so adjusted that it came just on the middle
line of the window. Thus the vertical length of each colored
paper actually seen by the observer was 2.5 cm. The horizon-
tal length of each color combination was 4 cm., and the distance
between one color combination and another was also 4 cm. The
length of the roll of paper was 256 cm. By dividing the time
necessary for a complete revolution of the paper by this total
length, we obtain the amount of time necessary to pass through
i cm. The rapidity of the drum was graded in 7 degrees above
and below o at the center. The exposure-distance of each
stimulus was thus 7 cm. (complete and partial exposure), and
1 The experimental work in Section I. was done in the Harvard laboratory
during 1906-7 ; that in Sections II. and III. was done in the Cornell laboratory
during 1908-9.
3°3
304 TAIZO NAKASHIMA,
the interval between the stimuli, /'. <?., the length of the back-
ground was i cm. With speed o, the time necessary for a com-
plete revolution of the drum was 3' 50" ; therefore, the time of
exposure of stimulus was 6.3". With the other six speeds, the
times in seconds are as follows :
Speed. Time of Complete Revolution. Time of Exposure.
1 Iio 3.01
2 75 2.03
3 55 1-47
4 45 1.26
5 35 0.98
6 30 0.84
The 32 (Milton-Bradley) color combinations selected were
as follows: I., BV and GSi (green shade no. i) ; II., YOSi
and VTi (violet tint no. i) ; III., VRS2 and RS2 ; IV., GTi
and VRT2; V., Y and BV; VI., ROTi and VRTi ; VII.,
ROSi and VRS2 ; VIII., RSi and VRS2 ; IX., Y and VR ; X.,
O and VT2 ; XL, RS2 and Black ; XII., B and OYS2 ; XIIL,
V and YG ; XIV., Warm Gray No. 2 and A-Red, Dark ; XV.,
GY and BV; XVI., ORT2 and A-Red Violet, Light; XVIL,
VRT2 and Neutral Gray i ; XVIII. , VRS2 and BVS2 ; XIX.,
YG and ORT2 ; XX., GBS2 and A-Red, Dark; XXL, V and
GSi ; XXIL, OS2 and RVS2 ; XXIIL, GY and VT2 ; XXIV.,
YG andVT2; XXV., BV and YG ; XXVL, VS2 and RS2 ;
XXVIL, VRT2 andA-Green, Light; XXVIIL, BVS2 and
RSi ; XXIX., Warm Gray 2 and RVS2 ; XXX., VRS2 and
GS2; XXXL, OR and G; XXXII. , Y and BS2.
Every judgment on the first stimulus of a series was stricken
out, since the speed of the drum was at first slow ; and that reac-
tion was supplemented by one taken later, with normal and uni-
form speed. The first color of a series was i, 32 or 15. The
change of the speed-pointer above or below zero, caused the
drum to reverse its direction, and this gave the opportunity
of arranging series in ascending and descending order. Usu-
ally, one complete series was made in two experimental hours,
to avoid too frequent repetition of the same stimuli. The obser-
vers were instructed to pass affective judgments upon the color
impressions in terms of P-U, and in the seven steps : i very
pleasant ; 2 moderately pleasant ; 3 just pleasant ; 4 indiffer-
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 305
ent ; 5 just unpleasant ; 6 moderately unpleasant ; 7 very un-
pleasant. The judgment in these steps was to be passed on the
basis of the affection aroused during the exposure of the stimu-
lus, and it was to be registered as ' 4* when there was no pleas-
antness or unpleasantness during the time of exposure. The
actual procedure of the experiment was as follows. About 3
sec. after 'Ready,' and at the signal 'Now,' the experimenter
started the drum, and the observer gave his judgment, ' 2,' ' 5 '
or ' 4,' for instance, which a third person registered on the pre-
arranged laboratory tablet. After the thirty-second judgment,
the experimenter stopped the drum and received from the ob-
server any remarks on the experiences that suggested themselves.
Then the recorder took the place of the observer, and the pre-
vious observer kept the record. The experiments were made
during the months of October, November, and December, 1906.
They were performed in ordinary diffuse daylight ; every care
was taken to keep the light as constant as possible, by the ad-
justment of curtains at the windows of the room, The obser-
vers were Professor E. B. Holt (If], Miss E. L. Davis (Z>),
Messrs. C. A. Barnes (.#), C. S. Berry (Br), E. P. Frost (F),
A. Mitchell (M)t C. A. Pierce (P), H. Reverdin (7?), H. M.
Sheffer (S), H. Taylor (71), K. T. Waugh ( JF).1 The results
of eight observers only are given here, since the other three
could not complete the series. The following tables show the
results which were obtained after three complete series (672 re-
actions) of preliminary experiments with each observer, made
for the purpose of learning and standardizing the scale of arbi-
trary affective values. All invalid series have been eliminated.
Immediately before the preliminary series, a view of the whole
set of stimuli was given to the observer for some time, to furnish
him with a rough estimation of the relative affective position of
each stimulus in the series.
In these tables, the figures in the first horizontal row indicate
the seven times of exposure o to 6 ; the figures in the first ver-
tical row show the number of affective judgments of the same
grade between the limits i and 7. In Table I. the figures
1 All except H and T were graduate students and members of the
laboratory.
306
TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
TABLE I.
OBSERVER H.
o
I .
2
3
4
5
6
5
I.O
1.6
1-4
1.6
1.6
1.8
i-9
7
2.O
2.7
2.5
2.7
2.8
3-o
2.9
14
3-o
3-7
3-5
3-8
3-8
4-1
4.0
12
4.0
4.2
4.0
4.1
4.0
4.0
4.0
14
5-0
4-7
4.6
3-9
4.0
4.2
4.0
9
6.0
4.8
4-7
5-0
4-3
4-3
4-4
3
7.0
5-7
6.0
4-7
4.0
4.4
4-4
12
15
16
19
26
3°
34
TABLE II.
OBSERVER BR.
o
i
2
3
4
5
6
13
I.O
0.3
O.2
0.4
0-3
0.4
0-5
7
2.0
°-3
O.I
I.O
O.g
I.O
1-7
7
3-o
0.6
0.9
0.8
0.8
I.O
I.O
2
4.0
0
0
o
o
o
o
15
5-o
—•4
—.6
—.4
—.6
— .8
— .8
14
6.0
— .2
—•7
—.8
—.8
— I.O
— I.O
6
7.0
— .2
—.6
—•5
—•9
— I.O
— I.O
2
4
5
6
6
8
10
TABLE III.
OBSERVER D.
0
i
2
3
4
5
6
9
14
27
2.0
4.0
5-0
— .1
—.6
0.4
0.4
O.I
—•4
0.4
0-3
O
—•4
0.4
0.4
o
—.8
0.4
0.4
O
—.8
o-5
o-5
o
I.O
27
27
27
28
32
33
37
TABLE IV.
OBSERVER F.
o
i
2
3
4
S
6
2
I.O
o
O
O
O
O
O
6
2.0
o-3
0.3
0.4
0.4
0.6
o.S
ii
3-0
0.3
O.2
o.3
0.4
0.6
0.8
ii
4.0
— .2
— .2
— . i
— .1
o
o
8
5-0
0
O
— .2
— .2
—4
—.4
12
6.0
— .1
—.4
—•4
— -3
—•4
—•5
14
7.0
Y
— .1
— .2
— .2
—.4
—.8
ii
8
ii
II
12
13
16
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 307
TABLE V.
OBSERVER M.
o
s
*
3
4
5
6
4
1.0
0
0
0
0
0
0
I
2.O
3
3
3
3
4
4
12
3-0
0.4
I.O
I.I
0.9
0.8
0.8
5
4-0
0.2
O.I
0.2
0.2
o
o
17
5-0
— .2
0
— .2
—•3
—.4
— .6
16
6.0
— .1
— .2
— .2
—•5
—.4
— 1.2
9
7.0
—•4
—•5
—.8
—•9
—•9
— 1.2
5
12
'3
13
14
18
33
TABLE VI.
OBSERVER S.
o
i
a
3
4
5
6
13
I.O
0-3
0.2
O.2
0.4
0.4
0,6
4
2.O
0-5
o-3
0.3
o-3
i-3
i-5
II
3-o
0.7
0.5
o.S
0.6
0.5
0.6
6
4.0
— .2
— .2
— .1
— .1
o
0
10
5-0
—•7
—.8
— 1.2
— .8
- -7
— .8
9
6.0
—.6
—•5
— -4
— I.O
— I.O
—1.4
ii
7.0
—•5
— -4
— -4
— .8
— -9
—i-7
6
10
6
8
12
17
20
TABLE VII.
OBSERVER W.
0
i
2
3
4
5
6
II
I.O
o .4
0-3
0-3
0-3
o-3
0.4
20
2.O
o .7
0.6
I.O
0.9
1.2
1.2
16
3-o
0 .1
o
O
0.4
0.6
0.8
8
4.0
— .1
o
O.I
O
o
o
6
5-0
- -9
— .8
— .8
— I.O
0.5
0.8
3
6.0
— I.O
— i.i
—1-3
— I.O
—1.9
— 2.0
8
8
10
12
13
15
18
TABLE VIII.
OBSERVER T.
0
I
3
3
4
5
6
10
25
2.0
3-0
O.I
o
0.2
o
0-3
O.I
0.3
O.I
0.4
0.3
o.S
0.6
II
4.0
0.1
0
—.1
0
0
o
18
5-o
— .1
— .2
2
-3
—•3
— -5
II
II
12
12
13
16
18
308 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
under the exposure times are averages, obtained by the follow-
ing mode of calculation, (i) Count up the number of times a
given affective judgment (i, 2, 3, ... 7) occurs under heading
o. (2) Sum up the judged values for the same stimuli under
the other time-headings i to 6. Divide by the number of oc-
currences found in (i). If judgment 3, for instance, occurs 5
times under o (for stimuli i, 7, 10, 13, 20), then sum up the
judged-values for these same stimuli (i, 7, 10, 13, 20) under
each time-heading i— 6, and divide by 5. — In the remaining 7
tables, the figures under the grades 1-8 are the differences be-
tween the standard values under the o exposure, and the values
under those other grades which were obtained in the mode ex-
plained above. The figures in the last horizontal row of each
table indicate the number of the stimulus judged ' 4 ' under the
respective grades of exposure, out of the two complete series,
448 judgments, which are the total data of the ' averages of
the judgments.' The tables show clearly that affective intensity
decreases with decrease of time of exposure. There are, how-
ever, disturbing factors. In Table I. the figures 4.2 and 4.1
in judgment 4 are certainly the effect of such factors. , These
deviations from the 4 show that the indifferent stimuli at the o
exposure are occasionally judged for other steps. Affective
variations due to unknown disturbing factors are noticed in
other steps and in all other tables. In Table III. the figures
— .1 and o.i in judgment 4 indicate that there are judgments
passed which deviate from the 4 towards opposite directions.
With ^and Afthe variations in judgment 4 are slightly greater
than those in the case of Z>, and the tendency of variation is
decidedly in one direction. S shows a stronger tendency of de-
viation from the 5 than from the 3. With Br, T and fFthe
deviations from the 4 are very slight. All these and similar
variations we admit. But they are very slight as compared with
the general effect of the time of exposure, as can be seen from
examination of the original records. In all the tables, the in-
crease of the number of the judgment 4, and the convergence
towards the 4 of all other grades of judgment with decrease of
the time of exposure, are definite beyond doubt.
M and S had at first much difficulty in passing an affective
TIME-RELATIONS OP AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 309
judgment in the seven steps under our experimental conditions,
although later the difficulty disappeared, except during the ex-
posures 5 and 6. Other observers also had more or less diffi-
culty, but soon learned to adapt themselves to the required con-
ditions. M and S said that, with the exposures 5 and 6, the
shortness of exposure and the need of quick judgment seemed
to oblige them to pass judgment from memory ; and in so far
the judgment was intellectual. Br and F had no such diffi-
culty, but also thought that their judgments might be purely in-
tellectual. The experimenter then explained the nature of
affective habituation, and asked them strictly to observe the
rules laid down for judgment, and to say ' 4 ' whenever they
found no affection during the exposure. The results were
much the same as before, and no observer could be positively
sure that his judgments were purely intellectual. /?, 7"and W
seem to have had more or less difficulty, but did not express
themselves definitely on the question. H remarked that a few
stimuli might possibly have been dropped without being included
in the affective judgments ; /. e., might have been passed as ' 4,'
while they had in reality some affective tone. All observers
were unanimous in their experience of definite affections during
exposure time 4. We may, then, take the times of exposures
5 and 6 as dubious, and conclude that the shortest time neces-
sary for an affection to arise varies from 0.84. to 0.98 sec.
Experiments with Geometrical figures.
The stimuli used in this experiment were such geometrical
figures as stars, triangles, dots, circles, crosses, Japanese chrys-
anthemum patterns, oblique and straight lines, angles, etc.
From three to five such figures were drawn in certain spatial
relations within a rectangular frame (2 x 7.5 cm.) of black
lines. The whole figure with the frame was pasted on another
larger rectangular piece (4 x 10 cm.) of white paper. The dis-
tance between one piece and another was 4 cm., while the dis-
tance between one frame and another was 6 cm. Thirty-two
such pieces were pasted on a roll of paper like that used in the
preceding experiment. The window in the screen was 4 x 10
cm. ; the horizontal distance of exposure of each stimulus was,
310 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
therefore, 6 cm. (complete and partial exposure), and the in-
terval, i. e., the distance of the background between two frames,
was 2 cm. One complete series consisted as before of 224 re-
actions. The observers were instructed to give their judg-
ments, if possible, on the total affection aroused by the figure
with its frame. All other requirements and experimental con-
ditions were exactly the same as in the experiment with color
combinations. H, D, It, Br, F, M, R, S, T and W again
served as observers. The work was done during the months
of January, February, and March, 1907. The results to be
stated below were obtained on the basis of two complete series,
after two complete series of preliminary experiments.
The general result of the present experiment is practically
the same as that of the preceding. In this experiment, how-
ever, the influence of disturbing factors is much less, while that
of the decrease of exposure time is considerably greater, as is
shown both by the original records and by their statistical ex-
amination as in the last experiment. All the observers, except
M and S, found that during exposure 6 most of the stimuli
aroused no affection, and a few remaining stimuli had hardly
time enough to develop an affective reaction during the expo-
sure. M and S observed that during exposure 6 there was
absolutely no affection, and that the judgments with the next
exposure might be purely intellectual ; only at the end of expo-
sure 4 there were a few stimuli which aroused an affective
tone. We may, then, conclude that the shortest time necessary
for the affection to arise varies from 0.72 to 1.08 sec.
We are now to discuss the method and the results obtained
by the method. One might question whether the times deter-
mined in the above two experiments do not include the time for
judgment. But that is not necessarily the case ; for the ob-
servers were instructed carefully to note the relation of the time-
limit of exposure to the moment of appearance of the affection,
not its relation to the completion of their judgment, and to re-
cord on the basis of that observation only. The time obtained
may, however, be somewhat longer than it would have been if
we had asked for a record of the first bare experience of affec-
tion. On the other hand, if we had required this simplest form
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. $l\
of reaction, the response would have been impulsive only, and
the result must have been quite dubious. At any rate, all our
observers were certain that there was no single case in which
affection appeared simultaneously with, or earlier than, the
sensation ; it always appeared distinctly later than the cognition
of the impression.
In the ordinary chronometric reaction, what is registered is
a certain conscious moment and the time of the physical move-
ment of response. Consequently, the rapidity of the reaction
movement, and every influence on that rapidity, cause a differ-
ence in the time measured. The time determined by this method
never corresponds to a real mental time. It is a time known
through the intermediation of a certain movement ; a time of
indirect reaction. In our reaction, the time registered is a cer-
tain conscious moment, which we seek to determine, and the
observer's task is to note the time-relation of the stimulus to this
conscious point ; while the expression of his observation or re-
action might be quicker or slower, without any consequence for
the determination of the time. Thus the reaction by our method
is direct, and the time found represents an actual mental point
in its relation to the objective time of stimulation. The present
direct reaction method, therefore, avoids the whole problem of
the physiological time of the reaction movement, and eliminates
the possible error that arises from the variation of that move-
ment. Further, the method saves the time and toil necessary
for the graphic and chronoscopic reaction methods, since it
needs no objective device for registering reaction-times. It
should also be remarked that the new method has no essential
connection with the serial presentation of stimuli, and with pass-
ing judgment in seven steps, although we combined these pro-
cedures with the method in the present study. We resorted to
serial presentation, because it seemed desirable to prevent the
possible persistence of the affective process, aroused by a stimu-
lus, by the inhibition through a following stimulus, so that there
could not be any confusion of an actual affection with the affec-
tion attaching to the memorial after-image of a precedent stimu-
lus. The scheme proved efficient, as was reported by the ob-
servers. Moreover, the need of quick successive judgments
312 TA7ZO NAKASHIMA.
gave the least chance for disturbing association and reflection,
and required uniform concentration of attention.
The passing of judgment in seven steps is purely accidental
to the method ; it was required simply because we sought to de-
termine the relation of affective intensity to time of exposure.
The main issue as concerns the method is that the direct reac-
tion method is feasible and reliable, and has important advan-
tages, even when it is applied to the affective processes pleas-
antness and unpleasantness.
Experiments with Complex Visual Impressions.
The experience of the preceding experiments encouraged
us to attempt a further study of the time-relations of affective
process with the same direct reaction method. In this experi-
ment, however, a single stimulus was presented, instead of the
serial presentation of a number of stimuli. The apparatus con-
sisted of two parts : the one was Meumann's time-sense appara-
tus, and the other was an exposure box, 32 cm. by 21 cm. by
18 cm. This was painted black. The front of the box was
open, as far down as 14.5 cm. from the top. The lower part
of the left side of the box, as far up as 16 cm. from the bottom,
was covered by a door which was shut during the experiment,
but could be opened for the introduction and removal of the
stimulus. Two screens, just large enough to cover the front,
were held up to the top of the box, at equal distances from each
other, by two pairs of electromagnets ; a third was held by a
support. The screen was made of a light black wooden frame
and a black cardboard inserted in the frame. On the second or
middle screen, a stimulus was fastened, and the third or last
screen with a check stimulus formed the background. The
first pair of electromagnets, which held up the front screen,
were connected by wires to the first contact on the scaled disc
of the time-sense apparatus, and with a pole changer formed the
first circuit. The second pair of electromagnets, which held up
the middle screen, were connected to the second contact on the
disc, and with wires and another pole changer formed the second
circuit. When the contact at the first key was broken by one
of the revolving arms, the front screen fell, and at the same time
TIME-RELATIONS OP AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 313
the stimulus on the second screen appeared. The second screen
fell, after a certain interval of time, when the second contact
was broken by the other revolving arm. The observers were
requested to record their observations after the screen had fallen,
and, after a glance at the stimulus on the third screen, to check
or destroy the affective process possibly remaining as an after-
effect of the stimulus. The time for adjustment to the stimulus,
before its appearance, was about 7 seconds, the commencement
of the whirring noise of the wheel-work serving as the signal
for attention. However, the actual duration of attention was,
according to the report of the observers, about 4 seconds. The
initial 7 seconds was found necessary for the introduction of uni-
formity in the rate of the revolving arms. The distance between
the exposure box and the observer was 70-80 cm. The time of
exposure, *. e., the time between the fall of the first screen and
that of the second, could be varied widely by fine steps, and
exactly determined by measuring the distance passed by the
arm between the first and the second break. The experiments
were made during the months of March, April and May, 1907.
They were performed in a completely dark room, except that
an electric light of 5 c.p. at the front of the upper board of the
box illuminated the stimulus. The same nine persons and the
writer served as observers. The stimuli used were forty illus-
trative photographic pictures on postal cards (Detroit Photo-
graphic Co.), five Japanese postal cards, and ten plates of sur-
gical diseases of the chest. The stimuli on the third screen were
illustrative postal cards similar in their nature to those used as
stimuli on the second screen. They were changed in every
other experiment, keeping a constant relation to the stimuli on
the middle screen. The observers were called upon to pay
special attention to (i) the time-relation between the moment of
the appearance of affection and the exposure of the stimulus,
i. e., whether it was aroused during or after the exposure ; (2)
the quality, intensity, vividness and duration of the affection ;
(3) the relation of the affection to the background, with especial
reference to inhibition, reinforcement, and coexistence, if there
were such processes ; (4) associations, bodily reactions, etc.
They were also told that the quality and intensity might be
TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
recorded in the seven steps. Above all, they were carefully to
observe the time-relations of the affective processes.
In the actual experimental procedure, if there were two
cases in which no affection arose with one and the same expo-
sure time, a further experiment was tried with the next longer
exposure time ; and if P or U was aroused, then the experi-
ment was stopped, and the time was taken with another stimu-
lus. If an exposure time was found in which an affection was
aroused in the first or second experiment, the next shorter ex-
posure was tried, until a time was found in which there occurred
two cases of * no affection.' The final time for 4 was determined
by the same procedure as that for P-U, but after it was found
we went on further to find the final time for P-U. Usually,
in the next exposure grade P-U was aroused, and 2 trials were
the average for all observers except T and N "(4 trials). In
other cases, 7 trials were the average for determining the final
time of P-U or 4, except again for T and N (10 trials). There
were only a few cases in which P-U after 4 did not arise even
in an exposure time of 141.5 sec. In such cases, the trial was
stopped, and the original time was taken as final for 4. The
grade, /. £., the interval between one exposure and the next,
was .05 sec. In calculation of the times, therefore, .025 sec.
was subtracted from the time in which an affection or a feeling
was aroused, on the assumption that it must have been aroused
between the exposure time in which there occurred two cases of
no affection, and the time in which an affection was aroused.
The following Table IX. shows the results of the time measure-
ments.
TABLE IX.
Observer.
Direct Reaction Times of P-U.
Times of 'Indifferent.'
Range.
Median.
MV.
Av.
MV.
No.
Range.
Median.
MV.
Av.
MV.
No.
Barnes
Berry
Davis
31-5- 86.5
31.5- 66.5
3I.5-1II.5
3I.5-III.5
36.5-141.5
31.5-126.5
36.5- 86.5
3I.5-I3L5
31.5-111.5
36.5-141.5
41-5
39-0
39-°
40.0
49.0
42.5
40.5
42.5
39-0
48.5
5-9
6.0
5-8
5-4
6.9
5-4
54
5-6
6.0
6.8
47-0
39-0
41-5
41.2
51-5
42.0
41-5
46.0
40.0
50.0
<'9
6.0
5-9
5-9
6-9
5-7
5-6
5-4
7.0
6-9
112
172
162
172
183
179
346
174
225
178
26.5-126.5
31-5- 91-5
26.5-136.5
31-5- 96.5
41.5- 66.5
41.5-141.5
31-5- 86.5
31.5-126.5
3L5- 96.5
41-5- 91-5
36.5
41-5
41-5
42.0
50.0
52.0
36.5
4I.O
39-°
48.0
5-3
6.2
6.4
6.0
7-i
7-1
5-0
5-3
5-9
7.2
39-0
40.0
41-5
42.6
49.0
47-0
37-5
43-6
41-5
50.0
<'9
6.0
6.4
5-9
6-9
6.4
5-6
5-5
6.2
6-9
140
39
4i
36
20
49
24
52
126
28
Frost
Holt
Mitchell
Nakashima
Sheffer
Taylor
Waugh
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 315
The figures under « Number' indicate the total number of
experiments. The stimuli were 55 in all, but the necessity of
finishing the experiment within the academic year obliged us to
reduce the number of the stimuli, and experiments on 30 stimuli
only out of 55 were completed, these 30 including the stimuli
that required the longest and the shortest times. The 25 stimuli
eliminated were those which required intermediate times. The
number with observer T is exceptionally large, because many
extra hours were obtained from this observer in advance of the
others, when the experimenter had not the adequate experience
for reducing the number of the experiments. The experience
obtained from the work with T and the writer's own observations
enabled the experimenter to guess that such and such stimuli
would require about such and such times ; and thus he could try
from the beginning the approximate exposure time in which an
affection would be aroused. This is the reason why the num-
bers for the other observers are smaller. In the table, the ' in-
different' (4) means * indifferent in regard to pleasantness or
unpleasantness.' Thus it covers such things as the feelings of
strain, excitement, curiosity, interest, surprise or shudder, won-
der (strangeness), familiarity, recognition, a certain indescribable
feeling, etc.1 The observers used the word feeling in the ordinary
way, and the ' indifferent feeling ' is by no means a pure elemen-
tary affection. It is noteworthy, however, that the times of these
indifferent feelings are practically the same as those of P-U, and
in the case of B and D are even shorter than the latter. The
times of both P-U and the indifferent feelings are also remark-
ably uniform. This is partly due to the fact that .05 sec. was
taken as the unit of the grades, so that possible finer differences
could not be brought out. However, even if we take the inter-
val of the grades into account, the individual ranges and the
ranges among the different observers are much smaller than
might have been expected ; for the possible maximum interval
according to our mode of calculation is only .025 sec. More-
1 These feelings are really Orth and Marbe's ' Bewusstseinslagen,' Ach's
' Wissen ' or ' Bewusstheiten,' James' 'fringe of consciousness,' and as such
may be a part of the consciousness of understanding ; otherwise, they are noth-
ing but organic sensations. Whether in the first case they are seasonal or non-
sensorial is still a matter of dispute.
316 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
over, it should be remarked (i) that in the calculation of the
times, no single time value was eliminated (except the extremely
isolated times mentioned below), and that even in the simple
reaction a range from the shortest time to its 2 or 2.5 times is
not exceptional ; (2) that the reactions were performed in the
condition of ordinary naive experience, without trying to elimi-
nate anything which might be regarded as a disturbing factor
from the standpoint of psychophysics ; (3) that the greater varia-
tions are only exceptional cases ; reference to the ranges in the
table shows that the times 126.5, I3I'S> an^ 141-5 were found
only once with B> D, H, S and W\ and finally (4) that the
ranges in the table were obtained from a large variety of com-
plex stimuli.
It seems, then, to follow from these considerations that the
mode of variation of affective reaction-times is of the same order
as that of sensory reaction-times. Even the absolute values of
the averages and the medians in the table are practically the
same as those of cognitive reactions, which are already known
from reaction experiments on visual impressions made by vari-
ous investigators. All the observers agreed that, although feel-
ing appeared only after a more or less clear perception of the
stimulus, the temporal disjunction was in most cases very slight.
The introspective records of the observers are quite homo-
geneous, except for H, so that they may be presented later in a
summary way. The following are ff's records taken from each
last one of 55 stimuli :
Stimulus i. Feeling of recognition and it was perhaps pleasant no. 3. But
I cannot be sure that there was more than one quality.
Stimulus 2. Some mild feeling which I cannot describe.
Stimulus 3. Feeling no. ' 5, ' slightly disagreeable owing to color (simply) .
Inhibited by background. No association. Feeling of dejection.
Stimulus 4. Clear perception, but no feeling. There was feeling from
memory image.
Stimulus 5. No feeling during exposure. Feeling no. 2 now as I recall the
picture. Perception clear during exposure.
Stimulus 6. Feeling no. I (very faint) inhibited at once by background.
Association with Japanese art.
Stimulus 7. Clear perception, feeling no. 3, mildly restful.
Stimulus 8. Clear perception but no feeling during exposure. After ex-
posure had feeling no. 5.
Stimulus 9. No pleasantness or unpleasantness. Surprise, and, I should
think, horripilation to a slight degree, during exposure.
TIME-RELATIONS OP AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 317
Stimulus 10. No feeling during exposure. But first picture and back-
ground together were no. 7, and gave me a sort of shudder.
Stimulus n. Peeling no. 3, coming long after exposure, attached to
memory of stimulus.
Stimulus 12. Clear percept but no feeling during exposure. Feeling no.
5 afterward. No relation between picture's feeling and background.
Stimulus 13. Peeling no. 6 at time of exposure. Fairly intense : one of
irritating nervousness. Inhibited by background. No association. Bodily
feeling of (my) withdrawal from stimulus.
Stimulus 14. Feeling no. i aroused faintly during exposure; became
stronger after exposure and inhibited background for all but its (the back-
ground's) first moment of exposure.
Stimulus 15. Simply not time for a feeling although a pretty clear percep-
tion of stimulus.
Stimulus 16. No feeling during exposure. Memory image inhibited by
background. Two or 3 sec. later feeling no. 5 attaching to original picture's
memory image.
Stimulus 17. No feeling. If (as here) background is agreeable it has a
strong tendency to inhibit picture and feeling-tone altogether.
Stimulus 18. Feeling no. 2 very faint. Inhibited by agreeable background.
Stimulus 19. Feeling no. 6, during exposure. Feeling of 'mussiness'
perhaps of ' tension."
Stimulus 20. Feeling no. 3 rather strong ; inhibited by background.
Stimulus 21. No feeling during exposure. Background seemed to come
as a feeling-tone, no. 6, was surging up. This inhibited background for a mo-
ment (after it had an instant appeared).
Stimulus 22. Mild intensity of feeling no. i, coming after I had seen back-
ground and looked away from it.
Stimulus 23. No feeling for picture itself. Contents thereof not well ap-
prehended : effort (feeling) to comprehend what I saw.
Stimulus 24. Feeling no. 5; mild intensity; lasted as long as exposure;
inhibited by background. Association with Buffalo Bill, and picture of him
that I had in childhood (these came up mostly after card was removed from
view).
Stimulus 25. No feeling during exposure. Perception clear. A feeling
has arisen from memory of stimulus.
Stimulus 26. Feeling mixed of 3 and 5. Almost simultaneous with ex-
posure. Sharp contrast with feeling of background which inhibited that of 26.
Stimulus 27. Vivid perception (color) and yet no feeling until after the
exposure.
Stimulus 28. Feeling no. 3 intense (or vivid) inhibited background for a
short time.
Stimulus 29. Clear vision but no feeling.
Stimulus 30. Clear vision, feeling no. 6 (depression). Inhibited instantly
by background.
Stimulus 31. Not clear vision and no feeling (except, as always, in recall).
Stimulus 32. Clear vision, feeling no. 3.
Stimulus 33. Clear vision, feeling no. 4 (remarkably indifferent sensa-
tion).
318 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
Stimulus 34. Feeling no. i, rather intense, arose instantaneously and
seemed to persist, coloring the background with feeling-tone.
Stimulus 35. Feeling no. 3, moderately intense, arose as background was
being exposed and inhibited feeling of latter for a moment.
Stimulus 36. Feeling no. 5, mild, but it inhibited background for a short
time.
Stimulus 37. Feeling no. 2 (weak) arose after background had been seen.
Stimulus 38. Feeling no. 6, brief, not intense, and inhibited by back-
ground.
Stimulus 39. Feeling no. 2, of mild intensity, arose slowly, but exposure
was long and feeling came during exposure. Was inhibited at once by back-
ground.
Stimulus 40. Feeling no. 5 (depression?). In all these cases the back-
ground cuts off the previous perception and feeling.
Stimulus 41. Clear vision ; feeling no. 6, with pleasant associations.
Stimulus 42. Perception not clear : feeling-tone no. i attaching to mem-
ory image.
Stimulus 43. Feeling no. 2, relaxation, moderately strong, inhibited by
background.
Stimulus 44. Mild feeling of tension.
Stimulus 45. No feeling during exposure. From memory image a mild
no. 3, alternating with feeling from background.
Stimulus 46. No feeling during exposure, but faint perception : fairly
strong but indescribable feeling attached to memory image.
Stimulus 47. Loathing, very strong, but not the same as feeling no. 7.
Arose instantaneously and persisted after exposure ceased.
Stimulus 48. Feeling no. 5 during exposure and increase to 6 and 7 after
exposure (attached to memory image). A slight bodily tendency to shudder.
Stimulus 49. Disgust, intense : not same as feeling no. 7. Instantly and
persistently felt. Contraction of the diaphragm.
Stimulus 50. Feeling no. 6, with a rather strong sensation of revolt in the
stomach. Inhibited background for a moment and persisted for a considerable
time longer.
Stimulus 51. Feeling no. 2 on first glancing, changing to no. 5 as (during
rather long exposure) my attention rested on lesions of the skin.
Stimulus 52. Feeling no. 6 moderately strong. Disgust besides ; organic
sensations in lower part of trunk. All pretty quickly inhibited by background.
Stimulus 53. Moderately strong, instantaneous, and inhibiting background,
cringing feeling ; reaction in throat.
Stimulus 54. Feeling no. 7 strong, instantaneous and inhibiting back-
ground ; reaction in throat.
Stimulus 55. The disagreeable fact not obvious on first glance ; it developed
later (from memory image), after background shown, and had a feeling-tone
no. 7, rather mild.
Besides simple pleasantness and unpleasantness, H records
various feelings; as, dejection, depression, massiveness, ten-
sion, relaxation, restfulness, loathing, a certain indescribable
feeling. These are, however, rather emotions than simple af-
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 319
fections, such as we should expect to arise from the nature of
some of our stimuli, and as we infer from accompanying reac-
tions in throat and chest, contraction of diaphragm, revolt in
stomach, contraction in back of mouth, etc. Or they may,
perhaps, be simply complexes of organic or kinaesthetic sensa-
tions. Other observers also recorded these feelings and reac-
tions, but far less frequently, except »S, who is very liable to
bodily reactions. S recorded, besides the reactions stated above,
such things as a tendency of the whole body to a forward
motion with involuntary 'ah!' — surprise; opening mouth,
as if to speak or about to ask a question — wonder ; shrinking
— depression; shrinking of entire body — utter disgust; wrink-
ling or knitting brow and twitching mouth — shudder ; expanding
of whole body — moderately pleasant ; closing of mouth and deep
wrinkling of forehead — very disagreeable ; tendency to raise left
arm at very moment of exposure — distinct surprise at the black-
ness of the general impression; wide opening of eyes — after
excitement ; backward and contracting motions of entire body
— very unpleasant and disgusting ; slight forward movement
of body — slightly pleasant ; opening of eyes and exclaiming
4 ah ! ' — very pleasant ; tendency to smile — moderately pleas-
ant ; ' sour ' reaction all over — very unpleasant and disgusting ;
reaction by certain finger movements — curiosity ; raising of
eyebrows to give close attention — wonder ; etc. There are a
few cases of mixed feeling mentioned in the records of //, F>
D and T. Cases of affective change with change of the ex-
posure time are noted in all the observers' records and with
nearly every stimulus. More particularly, all agree that the
transition from the state of no feeling to nos. 3 and 5, and thence
to other steps in either direction, is definitely observable, and
that at the region near no feeling and the next steps our gra-
dations are not fine enough to express affective discrimination.
Thus they often speak of 4.5, 3.5, 3.2, 3.7, etc. Finer dis-
crimination of this sort was not recorded by If and W because
they thought that the graduation should be given in the seven
steps as prescribed. T and B observed that in most cases a
certain process of mental excitement intervened between the
stage of no feeling and the next affective stage ; this they called
320 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
a * purely indifferent feeling.' The period of this feeling was
usually very short, and it was liable to be overlooked.
H seems to believe that each of the seven steps has its own
intensity and vividness ; he speaks, for instance, of ' Feeling
no. i aroused faintly' — st. 14; 'Feeling no. 3 rather strong'
— st. 20; ' Mild intensity of feeling no. i ' — st. 22 ; ' Feeling
no. 2 very faint' — st. 18. But the observer did not seem suf-
ficiently to pay attention to the influence of organic sensations
and other sensational and apperceptive complexes upon the
affective judgment. The differences in these factors are too
often confused with alleged qualitative differences in simple
affections, while in reality the latter may be quite homogeneous.
Moreover, only three similar cases are recorded in all the re-
ports of the other observers. At any rate, the evidence is not
conclusive.
What all observers became surprisingly certain of is that
our time-sense for affection is exceedingly definite. They
could clearly trace the manner of the appearance and cessation
of affection in terms of quickness, duration, and the temporal
relation of the affection aroused by the stimulus to that of the
background ; thus they tell how it quickly appeared, or how it
slowly disappeared, or how long it lasted, or they observed
"the feeling came long after exposure," or " it came just at
the end of the exposure," or "it came after the background
was exposed," or " the feeling was inhibited for a time by the
background," or "it instantaneously inhibited the feeling from
the background," or "it arose instantaneously and persisted
after exposure ceased," etc. Observer T noted that the feeling
had time to reach a constant level, and that there was more or
less interval during which inhibition existed. These observa-
tions seem to warrant the conclusion that affection or feeling is
identical in temporal definiteness with sensory experience ; and
in this connection we may repeat our previous conclusion that
the affective reaction-times and their variations are of the same
order as those of the sensory reaction. The affective times are,
however, always more or less longer than those of the cogni-
tive reaction.
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 3*1
II. REACTION EXPERIMENTS WITH SIMPLE COLORS.
The experiment reported in the first part of Section I. was
made with combined color impressions. It seemed desirable to
supplement this by an experiment with simple color impressions.
Out of the Milton-Bradley color series, 28 colors were selected,
and from these there were rechosen, as the permanent stimuli,
the six: I., red (R); II., green (G); III., violet blue (VB) ;
IV., blue violet (BV); V., violet shade i (VSi); VI., engine
colored paper 7, with the view that colors very pleasant, very
unpleasant, and somewhat variable in affective quality, as well
as the two colors most widely separated in the range of reac-
tion-time, should be included in these 6 stimuli. The selection
was made on the basis of preliminary experiments with the 28
colors, performed with three observers who did not take part in
the regular experiments. The other 22 colors were employed
to introduce a variety in the stimuli, and with a view to the
avoidance of any possible habituation. The times of reaction
to these colors were not counted in the result. With each of
the 6 colors, 20 affective reactions, and the same number of
cognitive reactions were taken with the same stimuli for the ob-
servers P and G. For another observer 7?, 15 affective reac-
tions and an equal number of cognitive reactions were taken
with each of the 6 colors. A set of experiments comprised 26
colors, 6 of which were selected from the extra 22 colors, and
distributed among the rest. The order of presentation, and the
choice of extra stimuli were determined by chance.
The apparatus used was the vernier chronoscope,1 model II.,
and the Wundt tachistoscope.2 The whole frame of the tachis-
toscope was covered in front by a sheet of gray cardboard.
The cardboard had a window (4x4 cm.), the lower end of
which was i m. 16 cm. distant from the floor. A strong card-
board was inserted between the two pillars to stop the fall-screen,
in which a colored paper mounted on a cardboard was placed.
The screen was suspended by a pair of electromagnets at such
a height that the color appeared at the moment it began to fall.
The electromagnets and the chronoscope formed a circuit through
1 E. C. Sanford, Am. Jour. Psy., XII., 1901, 592.
*J. Zeitler, Philos. Studien, XVI., 1900, 381.
322 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
wires and a storage battery, which on the depression of the key
was broken at the same time that the long pendulum was re-
leased.
The observer was instructed to react at the moment of the
appearance of the affection, and to record his judgment in terms
of P-U. He was also given general directions for the perform-
ance of the cognitive reaction to the colors. In the actual ex-
periment, the observer sat at a distance of 1.5 m. from the
window, and the experimenter standing by the tachistoscope
said ' Ready,' whereupon the observer adjusted his hands to
the keys. After about 3 seconds, and at the signal ' Now,' the
observer pressed the key with the forefinger of the left hand,
to start the long pendulum, and after the required experience
pressed the key of the short pendulum with the forefinger of the
right hand. The experimenter counted off the swings of the
two pendulums in the usual way. The experiments were made
during the months of March, April and May, 1908. They were
performed in ordinary diffuse daylight ; every care was taken
to keep the light as constant as possible, by the adjustment of
white curtains at the windows of the room.
The observers were Miss M. G. Rand (/?), Dr. W. H.
Pyle (P\ and Dr. L. R. Geissler (G). R had had two years
of laboratory training in psychology ; P and G are assistants in
the psychological laboratory. G had already taken part in ex-
tended affective studies. Only a few preliminary experiments
were made for all observers, just enough to let the observers
adapt themselves to the experimental conditions, with a view to
the comparison of the variations due to the influence of practice
upon affective and sensory reactions.
In the following Tables I., II. and III., the Roman figures
in the first vertical column indicate the order of the series, and
the average in each series is based upon 5 reaction-times with
one and the same stimulus. The reaction-times in series IV.
for P and G were taken under entirely different instructions.
In this series the observers were requested to take a perceptive
attitude, an attitude favorable to the determination of the qual-
ity and intensity of the stimulus, and to react when the affec-
tion naturally appeared in spite of that sensory attitude (which
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 323
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TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
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TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 3*5
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326 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
seemed to represent the more common state of affairs in ordi-
nary life) ; while in all other series for P and G the attitude
was purely affective, /'. <?., a receptive attitude towards the
affective quality.
Inspection of these tables shows that the times of affective
reaction are decidedly longer than those of cognitive reaction.
The MV of the affective reactions is also larger than the MV
of the sensory, except in series IV. The times in IV. for G are
practically the same as those in II. and III. ; while the times in
IV. for Pare much larger than those in II. and III., and stand
between the times in these series and in series I. In general,
however, the mean variations in IV. are for both observers much
smaller than those in the other series. If we take the percentages
of the mean variations in terms of the averages, they are smaller
even than those of the corresponding series of cognitive re-
actions. The ranges in IV. for both JP and G are very irregu-
lar, and are similar in their mode of irregularity to the ranges
in series I. The averages in I. are larger than those in the
other series, especially for R. The longer times and the irreg-
ularity in I. are probably due to the observer's comparative
helplessness in passing affective judgments, and to the fact that
she availed herself of various secondary criteria, — a fact clearly
shown in the introspective records of the first 30 affective judg-
ments. General introspective remarks which were made at the
end of series I. are as follow : " In general, judgment was diffi-
cult, and it was hard to come to a final conclusion. I hardly ever
pass judgment immediately, and am usually uncertain of final
judgment." Between series I. and II. there were 6 reaction
times, one for each stimulus, which were isolated from those of
both I. and II. Taking the red first they are : 94, 82, 88, 108,
92, 92 ; and when R was asked to tell the nature of the judg-
ment in these reactions, she stated: "Judgment was easy and
quite immediate, but not satisfactory, as in many cases it had
changed while I was reacting." At the beginning of series II.,
the observer seemed to have learned entirely to give up her re-
flective attitude, and the very same stimuli which were formerly
judged by their associates are now ranked in terms of their in-
trinsic pleasantness or unpleasantness. The sudden decrease
TIME-RELATIONS OP AFFECTIVE PROCESSES.
in the times in II. is the effect of this radical change. The
times in III. do not greatly differ from those in II. At the end
of series II. the observer made the following general observa-
tion: "Judgment was very easy and perfectly immediate. There
was distinct pleasantness or unpleasantness accompanied some-
times by organic sensation as color was presented. This is the
first time I have been able to react on the feeling before first
naming the color that appeared." At the end of the last series,
when the observer was asked to describe her affective reaction
in comparison with the cognitive reactions during the series II.
and III., she stated: "When reacting for perception, my atti-
tude is more attentive. I am actively looking to see something
and expecting to do something. During the affective reaction,
my attitude is more quiet. I am waiting to receive the stimulus
and note its effect. In neither case is there any attempt to
speculate on what is going to appear. In the perception re-
action, I press the key as soon as I have noted the color, and
there is absolutely no feeling of P or U unless I deliberately
look again at the color. In the affective reaction, when the
color is pleasant, there is a distinct feeling of 'lightening' of the
eyes ; when unpleasant, a kind of sinking feeling and a bodily
relaxation."
The times in II. and III. for all three observers are much
shorter and are quite constant. One might be tempted to ex-
plain this by a possible habitual association, but there was noth-
ing of this kind in evidence. For when G was requested to
give an account of the sudden decrease of the times from his
introspective observation, he stated : " Times of reaction seemed
to be faster because I could more easily recognize my own state
of affection, could tell better which way I felt about certain
colors. It was not, it seems to me, a matter of associating a
certain color with a certain previous affection or rather with the
idea of such a previous experience. The greater ease of tell-
ing my affection showed itself also in making finer distinctions
in the degrees of pleasantness or unpleasantness. Besides, the
reaction with the second pendulum is much more automatic,
takes no conscious effort and no innervation. In some of the
older series I had sometimes to remind myself while looking at
328
TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
the color that I must now react to it. Thus practice seems to
have entered in two different ways : greater familiarity with cer-
tain states of feeling and hence faster recognition, and more
automatic functioning of the reacting finger. I don't know of
anything else that might have entered in."
The other two observers agreed with the above statements.
The absolute times of the affective reaction, even in II. and
III., are longer than those of the cognitive reaction not only of
the corresponding series but also of the other two series. If,
however, we take the relative percentages of the individual
ranges and of the mean variations, the figures for the affective
reaction are of the same order as those for the cognitive reac-
tion, as is seen in the following table :
R
Percentages in Affective Reaction.
Percentages in Cognitive Reaction.
R.
G.
VB.
BV.
Vsi.
7
R.
G.
VB.
BV.
Vsi.
7
12
3-3
22
8.0
9.0
3-8
14
4.8
23
8.0
28
7-7
15
3-7
18
8.7
12
5-1
14
5-9
28
8.0
22
9-2
P
12
4-1
40
ii
34
10
24
8.0
4i
IO
41
IO
ii
3-5
35
16
33
IO
H
7.0
34
12
33
9.0
G
24
6.2
37
7-9
14
6.1
20
7-1
20
5.4
2O
5-1
24
7-1
40
8.0
17
6-3
15
4.2
21
5-3
19
5-1
In this table, the figures in the first horizontal row for each
of the three observers give the percentages of the relative vari-
ation of the individual ranges, and those in the next row give
the percentages of the averages to the mean variations, in series
III. The corresponding percentages to be obtained from series
II. also show relative variations of the same order. If we aver-
age the averages of series II. and III., for the sake of a rough
comparison, we find :
Sensory. Affective.
R 34-3 47-1
P 47-0 69.7
G 44.1 104.3
The cognitive reaction-times of all three observers, especi-
ally of the latter two, are longer as compared with the typical
times l of earlier studies. This is probably due to the instruc-
1E. B. Titchener, ' Zur Chronometrie des Erkennungsactes, ' Philos. Stu-
aien, VIII. , 1893, 141.
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 329
tion given as to the stage of the cognitive process at which the
reaction should be made ; the observers were told to react at
•uch a cognitive moment that they should be able to report the
general quality of color after the reaction movement was made,
although actually the report was not required. It seemed fair,
for comparison with the affective times, to give their ' Aufgabe '
for the cognitive reaction, since in the affective reaction the ob-
servers were required to record their judgments in terms of P-U.
The affective reaction-times of G are strikingly longer than
those of the other two observers. This is probably partly due
to individual difference, and partly to G's extremely passive
attitude in the reaction ; for when asked to describe his affective
reaction, he stated : " When I am to make an affective reaction
I must be unconscious of my body and even of the purpose of
the experiment, the idea of the motive has to be as vague as
possible. I rely on the very vague pressure sensations coming
from the fingers touching the keys to remind me of the reaction.
Really, how the second reaction ever takes place I am not able
to say, because the motive is not conscious. Hence I catch my-
self sometimes suddenly arousing to the consciousness * now I
must move that key.' ... I could not really tell what my atten-
tion is on before reacting, probably on the color more or less,
but I never thought of this fact until this moment."
There was no single case, in the reaction experiments, when
the affection appeared first in consciousness, as the herald of
the connected sensory quality. This result is contrary to
Wundt's recent opinion l and to that of certain others. That the
formation of an affective consciousness requires a longer time
than that of a sensory consciousness is not only indirectly proved
by the reaction experiments, but directly by the introspective
evidence given by our observers, and by the evidence of the
direct reaction method with which experiments were made in
the Harvard laboratory (Section L). Another result which has
been brought out in the present experiment is that the relative
variability of the affective reaction-times follows the same rules
as that of the cognitive reaction-times, so that the affective proc-
1 Cf. the writer's article : 'Contributions to the Study of the Affective
Processes,' Am. Jour. Psy., XX., 1909, 181.
330 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
ess is undoubtedly identical with the sensory in that respect, in
spite of its difference from the latter in the need of longer times.
Moreover, the affective times of R are of almost the same order
as the cognitive reaction-times, and it is possible that, as the ob-
server became more familiar with affective experience, the
times might more nearly approach those of the sensory reaction.
III. REACTION EXPERIMENTS WITH TONES.
In the field of sensory reaction, it is already established that
the times differ with different sense departments. Whether the
same thing holds for the affective reaction is not yet known,
except in the cases of affective reaction with visual and cuta-
neous impressions.1 The time-relations of affection to sensation
are also known in those two senses. The desirability of sys-
tematic completion led us naturally to further study of the same
problem with tones ; we assumed the applicability of the reac-
tion method in this field. Meanwhile we had also another part-
problem in view, that is, the time-relation of the affective proc-
esses to their physiological expressions. We therefore resorted
to the graphic method. However, a full description of the ex-
periments and presentation of their results would deviate too far
from the main aim of the present study ; they are, therefore,
omitted in this article.
The apparatus used in the main work were a chronometric
interrupter manufactured by G. Hasler, Bern ; a clock-work
kymograph made by C. H. Stocking ; and a piano as the source
of stimulus. An electromagnetic time-marker formed a circuit
with the interrupter through wires, a storage battery, needles
attached to the interrupter, and the mercury contained in small
cylindrical glass vessels under the needles. To maintain the
vibration of the interrupter, another circuit was made between
a pair of larger electromagnets above the interrupter and the
direct-current switch in the wall-box of the experimenting room.
A Nichols tinned iron rheostat was inserted in the circuit to
regulate the voltage. The distance between the needles and
the mercury surfaces, and the distance between the electro-
magnets and the interrupter can be so adjusted that the circuit
1 Ibid., pp. 187-193 ; and Sections I. and II. of this paper.
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 331
through the time-marker closes, while the circuit through the
larger electromagnets is broken, and conversely. The vibra-
tion rate of the interrupter ranges between 10 and 60 in a second.
In the present experiment, the point of 25 vibrations was selected,
but with the highest speed of the drum it was possible to count
.02 sec. without fractionating the curve. The stimuli were
tones from the piano, under whose keyboard was laid a rubber
tube. The one end of the tube was connected with a Marey
tambour, and its writing lever marked a signal on the smoked
paper of the drum as soon as a key was struck, so that the
moment of stimulation was known. The observer's reaction to
the stimulus was registered by an electromagnetic signal, which
formed another separate circuit through wires, a storage battery,
and a double contact electric key. Occasionally, tests were
made to determine possible time-errors in the signal of stimula-
tion, by bringing the electric key near and parallel to the piano
key, and by striking the note and pressing the key button at
the same time, in order to make a comparison of the time-relation
of the two signals. There was, however, no definite time error ;
and if there was any error at all, it was a negligible quantity.
Every care was taken to make the ends of these three pointers
lie in one and the same vertical line on the smoked paper.
The observer was given general directions for the perform-
ance of the cognitive reaction l to tones. In the affective reac-
tion he was required to react at the moment of the appearance
of the affection, and to record his judgment in terms of P-U.
He was also told to make another reaction, at the cessation of
the tone or the affection as the case might be. In a concrete
experiment, the experimenter sat before the piano, and at the
« Ready ' the observer closed his eyes and adjusted the forefinger
of the right hand to the button of the key. As soon as the ob-
server seemed ready, the experimenter called * Now,' and struck
a note. After the second reaction, he stopped the drum, and
numbered the smoked paper. The experiments were made dur-
ing the months of June, 1908, to January, 1909, with the intermis-
sion of a greater part of the summer vacation. The following
observers served in the experiments : Miss M. C. West ( W},
'E. B. Titchener, Exp. Psychol., II., i., 1905, 187.
332 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
Dr. Geissler, Dr. Pyle and Miss E. M. Kitch (K), a graduate
of Oberlin College. W had already taken part in extended
affective studies.
Out of the 46 notes, striking out the first 5 low tones, C\,
DV EV FV Glt and the last 6 high tones, a3, £3, c\ d\ e\ f\
we selected 7 low tones, Alt B^ C, Z>, E, F, G, 7 high tones,
a2, 32, c3, */3, tf3, y3, g"3, and the 7 tones of the middle part, «,
3, c1, rf1, el, fl, g1. Out of these 21 tones, the 9 tones Alt D,
G) a, dl, g"1, a2, d3, g3 were rechosen as the permanent stimuli ;
the other twelve tones were employed to introduce a variety of
stimuli, with a view to the avoidance of possible habituation.
With each of the 9 tones, 20 affective reactions and an equal
number of cognitive reactions were taken with the same stimuli.
A set of experiments comprised 22 stimuli, 4 of which were
selected from among the extra 12 tones, and distributed among
the set. The reaction-times of these extra stimuli were not
counted in the result. The order of presentation, and the
choice of extra stimuli were determined by chance. This rule
was kept throughout all the experiments with W, K and G.
With P, 30 affective and 40 cognitive reactions were taken with
each of the 9 tones. A complete set of experiments comprised 50
stimuli, 30 of which were presented for sensible, and 20 for af-
fective reaction. Care was taken to distribute the 9 tones evenly,
and to utilize them all in the affective work. The 50 stimuli
were so arranged that the same tone was never presented twice
in succession, for the two kinds of reaction; and the order of
presentation was reversed from set to set. A half set, 25 reac-
tions, was taken in the experimental hour. Since all the ob-
servers had already had considerable experience in reaction ex-
periments, we did not give more than one set of 22 reactions for
preliminary practice. With observer P, only a few preliminary
experiments were made for each of the two kinds of reaction,
to let the observer adapt himself to the new experimental con-
ditions with a view to the comparison of any possible variations
due to the effect of practice upon affective and cognitive reac-
tions.
Tables I., II. and III. give the results of 360 reaction-times
obtained from the observers G, JFand K\ 180 times of cogni-
TIME-RELATIONS OP AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 333
tive, and an equal number of affective reactions for each
observer.
TABLE I.
OBSERVER G. UNIT, TJ5 SEC.
Affective Reaction Times.
Cognitive Reaction Times.
Stimulus*
Range.
Average.
MV
Wrong.
Range.
Average.
MV.
Wrong.
A,
73-96
89
8.2
I
34-42
38
3-0
0
D
68-94
85
II.O
0
35-44
40
3-i
I
G
60-87
82
10.7
O
26-36
32
3-o
0
a
59-89
73
8.5
O
26-36
30
3-6
I
d1
57-78
68
8.8
I
27-42
36
4-0
O
g*
60-78
69
6-3
I
31-38
35
3-5
0
a*
76-94
82
8.0
I
27-38
31
4.0
0
d*
54-&0
72
9-3
0
25-34
30
3-1
O
£*
80-92
85
3-a
I
35-42
38
2-7
I
TABLE II.
OBSERVER W. UNIT,
SEC.
Stimulus.
Affective Reaction Times.
Cognitive Reaction Times.
Range.
Average.
MV.
Wrong.
Range.
Average.
MV.
Wrong.
A
56-76
65
7.0
I
32-47
41
4-9
2
D
58-74
67
5-0
I
35-45
40
4.0
I
G
59-87
77
7-4
O
32-44
38
4.2
I
a
47-63
53
6.0
I
30-44
36
4.0
0
d1
48-58
53
5-0
2
37-44
41
3-5
I
g*
58-89
76
9.9
I
3°-44
37
4-0
I
a'
54-70
63
5-7
I
37-41
39
2.O
I
</s
59-64
62
2.O
O
38-48
42
3-5
2
g*
49-57
53
5-i
I
36-42
39
2-3
I
TABLE III.
OBSERVER K. UNIT,
SEC.
Stimulus.
Affective Reaction Times.
Cognitive Reaction Times.
Range.
Average.
MV.
Wrong.
Range.
Average.
MV.
Wrong.
A,
52-73
63
7.0
I
30-42
37
4.O
D
66-86
76
8.1
2
35-45
42
4-0
G
60-86
76
7.5
I
26-42
33
3-9
a
60-80
69
8.2
I
38-46
40
3-4
dl
64-76
71
4.0
O
25-40
33
;s.9
gl
45-76
61
7.9
O
29-94
38
4-3
a*
56-80
69
8.4
O
38-43
41
2-5
O
d*
58-74
68
6.7
I
30-45
41
5-2
£*
54-70
58
6.2
I
28-38
33
2.O
The tables show clearly that the times of affective reaction
are decidedly and uniformly longer than the times of cognitive
334 7AIZO NAKASHIMA.
reaction.1 The MV of the affective reactions is also larger
than the MV of the cognitive reactions ; a single exception oc-
curs for Wwhh the stimulus d3. In general, however, the in-
dividual ranges of the affective reaction-times are of the same
order as those of the cognitive reaction-times in their relative
variation ; and the total range of cognitive variations, from 20
per cent, with g-3 to 41 per cent, with a2 for G, from u per cent,
with a2 to 47 per cent, with a for W, and from 13 per cent, with
a2 to 61 per cent, with g for K, nearly coincides with the affec-
tive limits 15 per cent, (unpleasant) and 50 per cent, (pleasant)
for G, 9 per cent (distinctly pleasant) and 53 per cent, (slightly
pleasant) for W, 19 per cent, (very pleasant) and 68 per cent,
(pleasant) for K. The individual relative values of the mean
variations to the averages are also of the same order ; and the
mean variations corresponding to the above percentages are as
follows : 7 and 13 per cent, for 6r, 5 and n per cent, for W, 6
and 12 per cent, for 1C, in the cognitive reactions; 4 and 12
per cent., 3 and 13 per cent., 6 and 13 per cent., in the affec-
tive reactions.
Table IV. gives the results of 270 affective reaction-times
and 360 cognitive reaction-times. The Roman figures in the
second row indicate the order of the series, and the figures
under each series show the range, average and its mean varia-
tion of 10 reaction-times with the same stimulus. The average
in the third row from the last is the average of averages in each
of three series in successive order.
The general results are the same as those of Tables I., II.
and III. Taking the figures in the third series, the total range
of cognitive variations, from 35 per cent, with G to 64 per cent,
with g-1, stands nearly on the same level as that of the affective
limits 26 per cent, (very pleasant) and 53 per cent, (barely
pleasant). The corresponding percentages of the mean varia-
tions are 9 and u on the one hand, 8 and 13 on the other. The
results in the first and second series do not greatly differ from
those of the third series. The average of the first series is
1 G. Martins states that the reaction-times for high tones are shorter than
those for low tones (Philos. Studien, VII., 1891-92, 470-480). The times in the
above tables show no trace of such difference ; probably it has been swamped
in our larger cognitive times.
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES.
335
larger than those of the two other series ; the decrease of the
time is probably due to the influence of practice. It is, how-
ever, so slight that the times in I. show no trace of isolation from
TABLE IV.
OBSERVER P. UNIT,
SEC.
Affective Times
Cognitive Times.
L
IL
III.
I.
n.
III.
IV.
Range
Al AV.
MV.
48-58
52
4.0
49-58
51
3-8
47-59
52
4.0
27-40
3°*
3-6
28-40
29
3-4
25-39
30
3-i
25-39
30
3-1
Range
D AV.
MV.
44-65
56
6.1
45-65
54
6.0
44-64
55
6.0
26-40
31
3-5
27-42
30
3-5
27-40
31
3.0
25-40
29*
2.6
Range
G AV.
MV.
40-62
50
5-r
40-60
49
4.8
40-60
49
5-0
27-38
29*
2.6
26-36
29
2.4
26-35
28
2-5
26-36
28
2.6
Range
a AV.
MV.
55-82
65
7.0
56-79
63
6.8
58-80
63
6.8
26-40
33
3-6
28-41
32
3-4
26-40
3i
3-2
26-39
31
3-2
Range
rf1 AV.
MV.
50-76
63
7-4
51-77
63
7-0
49-74
61
7.0
24-38
30
3-0
25-39
29
3-2
24-37
29
3-o
25-36
28
2.7
Range
g* AV.
MV.
44-64
54
6.5
45-65
54
6.6
44-63
52
6.2
24-38
28
3-o
24-40
29
3-1
25-41
28
3-0
24-38
27
2.8
Range
a1 AV.
MV.
54-82
66
8.6
52-79
64
7-9
51-76
63c
7.8
25-39
3i
3-4
26-38
30
3-2
24-35
30
3-2
24-37
29
3-2
Range
</s AV.
MV.
50-78
62
8.1
50-75
60
7-9
51-78
60
7.8
24-34
29
3-o
26-35
28
2.8
25-34
28
2.7
25-36
27
3-o
Range
g* AV.
MV.
52-76
63
6.0
53-75
61
6.0
53-76
60
6.2
28-42
36
3-9
29-42
35
3-7
28-41
35o
3-8
24-40
34
3-5
Average
59-°
57-7
57-o
31.0
30.1
30.0
29.0
P.E.ofAV.
±4.01
±3.80
±3-54
±1.66
±1.42
±1.49
±1.49
Wrong
3
2
2
3
2
i
i
those in the other series. A like constancy was found with
the three other observers. There is no indication of an effect of
fatigue, which would show in loss of regularity and in a length-
ening of time in the later series.
336
TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
For the sake of a general grasp of the essential result, we
give the average of averages for all four observers :
G
P
W
K
Sensory.
34-4
30.4
39-2
37-5
Affective.
78.3
57-9
63.2
67.9
The reaction at the cessation of the tone or of the affection
was required not in all, but in the greater part of the experi-
ments. The total number of experiments in which the second
reaction was made is 216: 12 cognitive reactions with each of
the 9 tones, and the same number of affective reactions, for each
observer. The following table gives the result :
Sensory Duration.
Affective Duration.
P
G
W
K
P
G
W
K
-rfl
337
159
246
237
218
119
237
250
D
192
118
224
218
121
114
169
173
G
190
114
189
186
112
no
89
156
a
190
IOI
137
132
90
IOO
79
189
d*
1 80
93
120
120
90
97
80
IOO
Z1
I78
93
160
171
86
96
72
246
a1
188
90
1 20
140
02
95
70
188
d*
175
91
230
252
85
90
267
3i6
g*
137
92
210
215
78
94
225
233
The table shows that in general the duration decreases from
the low tones to the high. The tones d? and g* are marked ex-
ceptions with W and K. However, what we are concerned with
is not the relation of duration to pitch, but the relation of sensory
to affective duration. For P the sensory duration is always
longer than the affective, and in his introspective records there
is no mention of a case in which affection lasted longer than sen-
sation. For K, Wand G, such cases are by no means excep-
tional, and in the introspective records they often and definitely
stated their occurrence. They noted, however, that the affec-
tion attached to a kind of memorial after-image of the tone.
For W bodily attitude seemed also to have something to do with
it : "I noticed in exp. 3 and 4 that after the tone ceased I was
still enjoying it, but as I noticed this the P seemed to resolve
itself into a physical attitude — very still, breath indrawn, a sort
of tickle in the chest, eyes closed, chest lifted, and a sort of
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 337
judgment without words that it was nice. It seemed to me that
as long as I kept myself perfectly still and in that position I should
continue to enjoy it, and then I began to be uncertain whether it
was real feeling or not — I thought * this might as well end —
I'll never know — I can keep this up indefinitely' — and so I
struck the key. In both cases I felt dissatisfied afterwards, and
thought that the next time it happened I would keep it up, and
see if I had the feeling as long as I had the attitude. So in no.
9 I held on to the feeling and attitude until I was sure the feel-
ing was gone, but I wasn't sure when I lost the attitude, it may
have been before or after or with the feeling. But the dif-
ference between this state after the feeling is gone, and the
other which I wasn't sure of as P, makes me now certain that it
was P, and that I could not hold it indefinitely ; yet I could and
did prolong it, I think, by holding the attitude — for the other
times, when I gave it up, P ended as I struck, when it might
have lasted longer, I think."
W also recorded many cases of affective change, and in such
cases there was usually an indifferent state at the point of
change ; but the time-relations of the state could not be deter-
mined; its duration was very short, and was not registered.
Turning now to our original problem, we should say in sum-
mary that the main results of the present experiments are essen-
tially the same as those of the last section. It remains only to
remind the reader of the fact that in the affective reactions with
colors, the initial irregularity in variation and the subsequent
shortening of the times were striking, while in the affective re-
actions with tones there were no such heterogeneous variations
or sudden decrease of the times.
CONCLUSIONS.
The essential conclusions to be drawn from this study and
from the earlier researches connected with it are (i) that affec-
tive judgments may be and usually are as direct and immediate
as the sensory judgments of psychophysics ; (2) that the forma-
tion of an affective consciousness requires a longer time than
that of a sensory consciousness ; (3) that affective times and
their variability are either absolutely or relatively of the same
338 TAIZO NAKASHIMA.
order as sensory times and their variability ; (4) that the method
of reaction, when applied to the affective processes pleasantness
and unpleasantness, has a like scope and validity as for sensory
processes. More particularly, the direct reaction-method is
feasible and reliable. However, the time-relation of affective
to sensory process varies with the different sensory fields. The
relation is most intimate in the case of cutaneous impressions, as
was shown in our work with the discriminative reaction ; the
averages of the sensory and the affective times for an average
observer being 56.8 and 73.5. There was an indication that
the relation would be still closer, with olfactory stimuli, as
we judged by the result of our experiments with odors. The
time-relation in the experiments with colors and tones is com-
plicated, and it is difficult to make a fair comparison (the aver-
age affective times of tones and colors are respectively 67.9 and
69.7) ; but in general, the affective reaction to color impres-
sions seems most remote from the sensory in its time-relations.
The times, however, vary with variation of stimulus ; sensory
intensity is the most important factor. This is best shown in
the experiments made with illustrative cards in the dark room.
The cards were adequately illuminated, and were very favor-
able for the arousal of affective processes, as was shown both
by the observers' introspective evidence that the quality, intensity,
and temporal course of the affective processes were in their case
surprisingly definite, and also by the objective evidence that the
affective times were so far shortened that the median, for an
average observer, amounted only to 42.5. In regard to the
interpretation of the results of our reaction experiments, two
opinions are a -priori possible. The one is that pleasantness
and unpleasantness are the resultant of a sensation-complex or
of an apperceptive combination, the range of the complex proc-
ess being variable through three grades at least : sensational
complex, apperceptive combination of sensation and ideas, and
fusion of apperceptive combination with organic sensations.
Affective arousal should then, as Miinsterberg would maintain,
take a longer time than sensory, since these complex processes
must be formed before affection appears as a definite resultant
in consciousness. The other view regards lack of clearness as
TIME-RELATIONS OF AFFECTIVE PROCESSES. 339
the principal criterion of affection. The delayed appearance of
an affection is then due to this characteristic. The results of
our experiments tell, we believe, for the second hypothesis ; for
affective judgments could be passed directly and immediately
on the basis of the stimuli and of these only, as is proved in our
earlier studies on the mechanism of the affective judgment. In
the experiments with illustrative cards, cases were frequent in
which the mature stage of complex apperceptive fusion had been
reached in the affective judgments, and yet these did not require
longer times ; the averages and the medians were, on the con-
trary, shorter than the times of affective reaction with simpler
processes.
It is, however, a question if lack of clearness in affection is
absolute. It may be only relative ; it need not imply the im-
possibility of affective attention. Discriminations in seven or
even more than seven grades ; the definite determination of
rise, cessation, and details of temporal course; observations of
intensive change with change of exposure time, and of phe-
nomena of inhibition ; and finally, the similar or identical time-
relations of affective and sensory process — all these introspec-
tive descriptions and objective results may perhaps be direct
measures of affective clearness and affective attention. The
whole issue must, however, be left open, so far as the present
studies are concerned, since an affective consciousness always
includes sensory or ideal components, and what appear with-
out analysis to be affective discrimination and affective atten-
tion may be based upon and guaranteed by these sensory or
ideal concomitants.
Further light on the relation of affection to sensation can be
hoped for only after serious researches have been carried out
on the other criteria of affection proposed by various investiga-
tors, which have recently received review and criticism by
Titchener in his Psychology of Feeling and Attention. What
we think we have proved is that affection is different from sen-
sation in its need of a longer time of arousal ; but that it is akin
to sensation in so far as affective judgments are direct and im-
mediate, and affective times and their variability are of the
same order as those of their sensory correlates.
A NOTE ON THE ACCURACY OF DISCRIMINA-
TION OF WEIGHTS AND LENGTHS.
BY PROFESSOR EDWARD L. THORNDIKE,
Teachers College, Columbia University.
It is the purpose of this note to present some new data upon
the very old question referred to by the title in the particular
case of weights of 100 and 200 grams and lines of 50, 75 and
100 mm.
In spite of the repeated failure of experimental researches
to verify the doctrine that the larger magnitude requires a pro-
portionately larger difference for equal discriminability, that doc-
trine reappears so persistently in our text-books that it may be
supposed to require further refutation.
The measurements with weights comprise 16 tests by the
error method with each of 72 subjects. Eight were with a 100-
gram standard and 8 with a 2oo-gram standard. The method
was to give the subject the standards and also some boxes identi-
cal with the standards, except that of course they were empty,
and also a supply of lead scraps and shot. The subject filled
an empty box, comparing it with the standard by lifting both
simultaneously or successively as often as he chose, adding or
taking out shot until he was satisfied. The experiments were
conducted by Dr. Wilfrid Lay, a trained psychologist, and Mr. P.
R. Dean, a student and teacher of physics. Counting of the
shot was not done by the subjects and, of course, would not have
been allowed. They worked in ignorance of the amounts of
the errors they made. The subjects were 37 young women
students of psychology and 25 high school boys.
In the nature of the case there were no important general
tendencies to constant error since the subject compared his
weight with the standard back and forth several times. With
the 2OO-gram weight there was a slight tendency to a minus error
because the subjects rilled up to the weight oftener than they
340
DISCRIMINATION OF WEIGHTS AND LENGTHS. 341
over-filled and corrected. The deviation from the standard is
the measure (inverse) of accuracy of discrimination.
The general tendency is for the 2OO-gram weight to show
an error 1.585 times that of the 100. The probable Median
Deviation of this result from the true general tendency is .0^,
Taking the 37 young women separately we have 1.65 (.07). The
figures are 1.52 and (.14) for the 25 high school boys.
Table I. gives for the 34 women the sum of the deviations
from the standard for the ico-and 2OO-gram weights, the ratio
TABLE I.
Individual.
Sum of Deviations.
Ratio of Error
with 200 g. to
that with too g.
Apparent Median, Constant
Errors, with :
Prom 100 g.
From 200 g.
100 g.
900 g.
I
96
58
.60
2
4
2
64
93
1-45
9
— 3
3
45
94
2.09
5
o
4
5
37
57
It
1.97
1-54
3
— 6
0
- 4
6
48
76
1.58
— 5
0
7
21
47
2.24
0
•5
8
45
27
.60
— 6
•5
9
36
191
5-31
1-5
— 7-5
10
79
103
1.30
7-5
2-5
ii
24
96
4.00
— 3
12
55
91
1.65
2-5
- 6.5
13
21
43
2.05
o
— 2
14
15
82
547
0
— 8
15
43
85
1.98
o
1-5
16
41
65
1-59
3
9
17
52
103
1.98
— 6
—12.5
IS
21
46
2.19
— 1-5
— 3-5
19
28
no
3-93
1.5
20
75
89
1.19
3-5
— 8
21
52
1 60
3.08
— 2
—19
22
48
76
1.58
— 6
-8.5
23
104
74
•71
- 3
i
24
25
72
2.88
2
— 5
25
in
118
1.06
16
— 8
26
27
J3
55
78
1.67
1.63
o
2
— 5-5
10.5
28
37
56
3
— 1-5
29
52
77
1.48
7-5
•5
3°
56
73
1.31
1-5
3-5
31
93
58
.62
•5
2
32
28
50
1-79
0
•5
33
100
214
2.14
—12
—29
34
34
58
1.71
1-5
— i
35
68
148
2.18
3
4
36
157
169
1.08
29
— 8
37
42
25
.60
4
- 2
Median of ratios = 1.65.
342
E. L. THORNDIKB.
of the latter to the former and the apparent constant errors for
the two sets, all for each individual. The last facts are given
to show the impropriety of using the deviation from an individ-
ual's own general plus or minus tendency as a measure of dis-
crimination.
Table II. gives similar facts for the 25 boys, except that here
the sums of deviations were taken from the general tendency of
198 g. instead of from 200 g. Two hundred grams would have
been better to use, but as it makes no difference in the general
results, I have not recalculated all the deviations.
TABLE II.
Individual.
Sum of Deviations.
Ratio of Error
with 200 g. to
that with 100 g.
Apparent Average, Constant
Errors, with :
From ioo g.
From 198 g.
100 g.
200 g.
38
40
60
1.50
— 2
4-5
39
40
66
1.65
2
6.5
40
37
24
•65
- 4-5
— 4
4i
35
53
I-5I
I
1-5
42
65
73
1. 12
7
7
43
53
264
4.98
— 6
—15
44
90
161
1.79
3
—19-5
45
103
9i
.88
-8.5
-13-5
46
44
80
1.82
— 4
- 8.5
47
63
96
1.52
6.5
—13
48
28
40
1-43
2-5
i-S
49
33
84
2.55
— 4
— 7-5
50
55
53
.96
7
0
5i
34
36
i. 06
— i
— 1-5
52
"3
108
.96
13
—14
53
33
61
1.85
— i
— i
54
46
72
1-57
— 2
- 4
55
33
80
243
0
i
56
62
94
1-52
7-5
5
57
36
45
1-25
— -5
— 5-5
58
49
109
2.22
o
9
59
65
138
2.12
— 7
— ii
60
62
72
1.16
8
2
61
23
73
3-17
•5
6.5
62
79
97
1.23
— 8
— 5
Median of ratios - 1.52.
My measurements with lines comprise 60 tests with each of
37 individuals — 30 in drawing a line at one side of a loo-mm.
standard as nearly as possible equal to it, and 30 in equalling in
the same way a 50 mm. standard. The individuals tested were
the students of psychology mentioned above, and the tests were
conducted by Dr. Lay.
DISCRIMINATION OF WEIGHTS AND LENGTHS. 343
Table III. presents the results in the shape of (i) the sum of
the deviations from the standard, (2) the general tendency to
draw too long or too short lines (the so-called constant error) and
(3) the so-called variable error, that is, the general tendency to
deviate from the individual's own general tendency to draw
too long or too short lines (the measure used for this variable
error is the distance between the limits which include 50 per
TABLE III.
Individual.
A.
Sums of Deviations
from the Standards.
B.
So-called Constant
Errors.
c.
So-called Variable
Errors (a X Q).
D.
Ratios
100/50
from
A.
E.
Ratios
100/50
from
C.
From 50
mm.
Prom 100
mm.
From 50
mm.
From 100
mm.
In case of
50 mm.
In case of
too mm.
I
1 66
159
O
3-5
8
8
1-37
1. 00
2
91
232
'•5
6
5
2.55
I.OO
3
51
138
O
4
4
8
2.71
2.00
4
57
77
I
2
4
4
1-35
2.00
5
138
170
4
— 2
4
6.5
1.23
1.63
6
108
359
2
12
5
10
3-32
2.00
7
90
79
2
I
2
5
.88
2.50
8
56
130
O
3
4
6
2.32
1-50
9
no
289
2
6
5
16
2.63
3.20
10
H5
242
3-5
8.5
4
5
2.10
1.25
II
80
204
2
6
5
6
2.55
1.20
12
in
234
1-5
8
5
6
2.II
1.20
13
75
124
2.5
4
4
2
1.65
•50
M
H5
122
—3
2.5
4
8
1. 06
2.OO
15
81
86
—3
O
3
7
1. 06
2-33
16
94
151
i
4
7
6
1.61
.86
17
iz8
135
—4
5
3
4
i.M
i-33
18
80
198
—1-5
o
4
15
2.47
3-75
19
66
148
i
4
4
6
2.24
1.50
20
79
203
•5
6
6
8
2.57
1-33
21
122
198
-1-5
—5
10
7
1.62
.70
22
45
97
2
2
2
4
1.02
2.OO
23
89
"3
3
3
3
4
1.27
1-33
24
253
459
8
15
5
5
1.81
I.OO
25
181
220
6
7-5
5
5
1.22
I.OO
26
90
*93
— i
5
6
7
2.16
I.I?
27
138
no
—4-5
— -5
5
8
.80
1. 60
28
69
66
2
2
4
4
.96
I.OO
29
76
297
— I
9-5
4
7
3-91
1.75
30
167
154
—5
i-5
10
12
•92
i. 20
31
83
183
0
6
6
6
2.21
I.OO
32
74
141
2
2
2
5
I.9I
2.50
33
135
202
4
5
5
8
1-50
1. 60
34
112
222
3
7
3
6
1.98
2.OO
35
171
331
6
"•5
3
4
1.94
1-33
36
245
329
8.5
10
5
ii
i-34
2.2O
37
63
160
i
5-5
5
5
2.54
I.OO
Medians of ratios are 1.81 and 1.33.
Averages of ratios — 1.79 and 1.42.
344 B- L- THORNDIKE.
cent, of his records), (4) the 100/50 ratio in the case of the de-
viations from the standard, and (5) the 100/50 ratio in the case
of the deviations from the so-called ' constant error.'
As has been pointed out by Professor Cattell, the so-called
constant error is really extremely variable in the case of equal-
ling lines. It is a result of short-lived motor or perceptual
habits as well as of some persistent tendency. It is sensitive to
practice. It differs enormously with individuals. The practice
of disregarding it in measuring the accuracy of sense discrim-
ination is therefore dubious. When we disregard it, we do not
have left a measure of accuracy in any intelligible sense, but
strictly only a measure of the variability of an individual in re-
sponding to the same situation.
It is not, however, my purpose at this time to interpret the
errors made, but only to point out that, whatever measure one
chooses to take of inaccuracy of sense discrimination, the inac-
curacy is not proportional to the magnitude used as a standard.
The deviations from the standard are not twice as great for the
loo-mm. line as for the 50, but only one and three fourths times
as great [1.8 db .1 (P.E.)]. And the so-called variable error in
the case of the loo-mm. line is only one and one third times that
with the 4O-mm. line [i.4db.o8 (P.E.)]. If each individual's
deviations from the constant error of the entire 37 are used, the
ratio is still less than one and a half.
The variations of the individuals from the central tendency
of the group are very wide in the case of both weights and lines.
There is nothing like close clustering of the individual ratios
about 1.6 in the former, or 1.8 and 1.4 in the latter case.
I attribute the results in general not to one main cause, in
the shape of some one psycho-physic law, varied by minor dis-
turbing causes, but to the influence of many specialized tendencies
to response. The individual scores for the weights, coming each
from only 8 measures, are subject to much variation from the
totals of which they are samplings. Tests covering hundreds of
trials spread over many days would reduce the individual differ-
ences in the 200/100 ratios markedly. But it is hard to believe
that such would reduce them to a range much less than 190 to
130. The individual scores for the lines are more reliable and
DISCRIMINATION OF WEIGHTS AND LENGTHS. 345
rough calculation of their reliabilities shows the practical cer-
tainty that with complete measures there would remain a range
of variation, around the 1.8, of from 1.5 to 2.3 and a range,
around the 1.4, of 1.15 to 1.75.
In general the determinations of the so-called psycho-physic
law have failed to find close correspondence in the different indi-
viduals measured or in the different divisions of the magnitude-
series used. It is chiefly the speculative doctrine that some one
simple equating of sensations or judgments with magnitudes
judged must exist and be the main cause of our powers to judge
them that has led psychologists to neglect these failures. But
against such a doctrine stand (i) the facts of the changes in
these powers with practice, (2) their specialization with content,
and (3) the difficulty of connecting the doctrine with the known
facts about the action of the nervous system, as well as (4) the
direct measurement of the variations amongst individuals. The
present writer believes not only that the experimental data do
not give proof of the existence of any one psycho-physic law,
but also that they do give proof that there is not any such one
law.
An objection may be made to the original measurements
themselves : namely, that they are extremely complex meas-
ures of discrimination resulting from all sorts of conditions.
This is true, in the sense that the judgment of weight was al-
lowed to rest upon liftings in any number, at any rate, with
either hand, and that the judgments of length were allowed to
rest upon data from the movements made in drawing the lines
or from the sight of them at varying distances while being
drawn and after completion. But it is not necessarily true if
complexity means elaborateness from the point of view of the
individual making the judgment or with respect to the behavior
of the nervous system in making such responses. To have to
lift weights at the same rate through the same distance by a
time schedule may be a more complex act, because of the in-
hibitions involved, than the act in the case of my experiments.
But in either event the method is not really objectionable.
If the law in question held for the responses when made to each
single constant kind of sense datum, it would necessarily hold
346 E. L. THORNDIKE.
for any responses to any random combination of such. The
particular accuracies might vary, but the general law would
appear as before. So, unless the critic can give evidence that
the subjects chose specially accurate data from which to judge
the 200 g. weights and specially inaccurate data from which to
judge the 100 g. weights, the objection is futile.
The writer chose the method deliberately because it seems
to him sure that accuracy in sense-discriminations has developed
as a function of responses to concrete objects with all the avail-
able means at the animal's disposal, and that the laws regulating
it will relate more closely to such instinctive responses and the
habits they easily grow into than they will to the rare and arti-
ficial responses we cultivate by restricting the situation osten-
sibly to some one element, but really to that element in an
elaborate context of distracting suggestions and inhibitions.
A RANGE OF INFORMATION TEST.
BY PROFESSOR GUY MONTROSE WHIPPLE,
Cornell University.
In Professor Kirkpatrick's vocabulary test, the application
of which I discussed last year,1 the list of one hundred test-
words is intentionally selected by chance : some of the words,
like page, happen to be very ordinary, every-day terms ; others,
like lanuginose, are unusual, technical terms. Knowledge of
the ordinary words is, of course, common to almost all exami-
nees : knowledge of the more unusual terms, however, depends
almost entirely upon the examinee's erudition — upon the nature
of his school training, his professional interests, and the quan-
tity and type of his general reading.
I have endeavored to extend, or rather to supplement, the
vocabulary test by devising a list of words that shall serve in its
entirety as a measure of erudition or range of information. For
this purpose the hundred test-words have been selected, not by
chance, but by careful consideration, and in such a manner that
each shall be representative of some specific field of knowledge
or activity, in the sense that if the examinee has made himself
familiar with a given field of knowledge or activity, he will
almost certainly know the word selected from that field, whereas,
if he has not made himself familiar with the field, he will almost
certainly not know the term, or at least will not have such
knowledge of it as to enable him to define it exactly. Thus,
general knowledge of American history is tested by the name
Anthony Wayne, knowledge of French by aujourd*hui, of chem-
istry by chlorine, of golf by midiron, of social usages by
R. S. V. P., of the technique of photography by f-64, etc.
Nature and Method of the Test. — For conducting the range
of information test, each examinee is supplied with a printed
blank 2 as reproduced herewith : he is asked to read the direc-
II Vocabulary and Word-building Tests,' PSYCH. REV., 15, March, 1908,
94-105.
1 These blanks may be had of C. H. Stoelting, 12 S. Green St., Chicago.
347
348
G. M. WHIPPLE.
tions through twice before marking the words, and his attention
is called to the request for definitions that follows the test-words.
There is no time restriction.
Name.
Date
INFORMATION TEST,
Below are 100 words, phrases, or abbreviations, largely technical, which are
designed to test the range of your information. Consider each one carefully,
and place before it one of these four marks :
1 i ) The mark D if you could define it as exactly as words are ordinarily de-
fined in the dictionary.
(2) The mark E if you could explain it well enough to give some idea of its
meaning to one who is not familiar with it, though you could not give an exact
definition that would satisfy an expert.
(3) The mark F if the word is merely roughly familiar, so that you have
only an indefinite idea of its meaning and could not use it intelligently.
(4) The mark N if the word is entirely new or unknown to you.
When you have finished, count the marks, and fill out these blanks :
ageratum
cleistogamous
amphioxus
cosmogony
amphora
cotangent
annealed
dibble
Anthony Wayne
dietetics
apocalypse
dryad
architrave
electrolysis
aujourd'hui
Blohim
Babcock test
entree
base-hit
Eocene
Bernard Shaw
Euclid
Bokhara
/-64
Braille
f . o. b.
call-loan
gambit
calorie
gasket
cantilever
glycogen
Casdmon
gneiss
catalepsy
golden section
cephalic index
guimpe
ceramics
hedonism
chamfer
hemiptera
Chartism
homiletics
chlorine
hydraulic press
chromosome
impetigo
clearing-house
impressionism
F
infusoria
intaglio
Kepler's law
kilogram
kinesthetic
kinetic
L,es Mis£rables
linotype
logos
luff
Malthus' law
metacarpal
midiron
Millet
mitosis
morgen
nada
natural selection
noi
ohm
parallax
peneplain
Pestalozzi
Polonius
N.
puer
pyramidal tract
quadratics
rococo
R. S. V. P.
scherzo
semaphore
simony
spoils system
Stoicism
synecdoche
testudo
tort
trephine
triangulation
trilobite
triple-expansion
undistributed middle
Utopia
vantage-in
way-bill
Weismannism
wigwag
X-ray
Zionism
pomology
On the reverse side of this sheet define or explain the first five words that
you have marked D and the first five words that you have marked E.
Results. — i. Typical quantitative results, as obtained by
A RANGE OF INFORMATION TEST.
349
the writer from some hundred cases are embodied in Table I.
Inspection of this table makes it evident that advance in school
training (coupled with increased maturity) is accompanied by
an increase in the number of technical terms that can be defined
or explained, or that are at least * roughly familiar.'
TABLE I.
DEPENDENCE OF RANGE OF INFORMATION ON AGE AND SCHOOL STATUS.
Academic Status.
Number.
D
M
F
N
Graduates
Seniors
Juniors
Sophomores
High-school
4
5
10
30
52
39-o
2O.6
24.8
17.7
6.8
21.0
17.2
12.0
12.7
7-6
12.2
25.2
23-7
17-3
16.3
27-8
37-0
39-5
52.2
69-3
2. Comparison of Sexes, both in college and high-school
students has indicated the superiority of men over women and
of boys over girls. When both grades of students are combined
the sex difference appears in the averages shown in Table II.
TABLE II.
DEPENDENCE OF RANGE OF INFORMATION ON SEX.
Number.
D
E
F
N
Men
Women
44
57
15-79
12.21
11.98
942
18.22
17.19
54-02
61.17
3. The definition-test which is required serves to render the
examinee more cautious in his marking : it also affords the
examiner some index of the reliability of the marks obtained.
Since, in the majority of the papers, both of high-school and of
college students, there appeared one or more errors or inaccu-
racies in the ten definitions, it is evident that the results just
figured must be discounted. For exact results, the examinee
should be required, preferably orally, to define every word that
he has marked D, and to explain or attempt to explain every
word that he has marked E or F. In practice, especially when
testing by the group method, such careful checking may prove
too onerous : erroneous definitions may be neglected, or the
quantitative data may be revised by discounting on the basis of
the percentage of error revealed in the definitions. Or, again,
the examiner may, after the test is concluded, define the 100
35° G. M. WHIPPLE.
words, and let each member of the group revise his own paper
by placing a second series of marks after each word to indicate
the manner in which he should have marked it. A comparison
of the sums of the Z>'s, J£'s, J^'s and JV's of the first and of the
second series will then show approximately the extent and
nature of the error due to ignorance or misunderstanding of the
real meanings. In general, the sum for D and for E will be
reduced, but there are in most groups a few persons who are
overcautious in their first marking.
The nature of these errors in definition 'is sufficiently indi-
cated by the following illustrations : the assumed source of con-
fusion is indicated by the terms in parentheses after the defini-
tions :
ageratum — an aggregation of objects : the aggregate (sic) amount.
annealed — pressed or rolled out thin : molded together.
Anthony Wayne — a historic character who was hung in the cause of freedom
for the blacks : a man who fought in the Revolution on the English side.
Babcock test — a device to ascertain whether or not cattle have tuberculosis.
Base-hit — when the ball is hit and strikes a base or is caught there : a ball
batted over a base : when the striker bats the ball into the pitcher's hands.
Bokhara — name of a place in Austria.
cantilever — a bar with a hook in one end by which lumbermen roll logs (cant-
hook).
catalepsy — a form of disorder of the nervous system which causes fits or con-
vulsions (epilepsy). (Similar statements given by 15 persons.)
chamfer — the tree from which camphor gum is obtained : this is the simplified
spelling of it (!). (The confusion with camphor was found in 4 papers.)
clearing-house — a sale that takes place when a store wishes to dispose of its
stock (clearing sale) : a place where clearing papers are given to vessels to
enable them to leave the harbor (customs house -f- clearing of vessels) : pick-
ing up everything to move ; taking everything out of the house : a place
used by express companies to sell uncalled-for goods : a house where goods
are made ready to be delivered.
cotangent — name of one of two tangents drawn to a circle from the same point
without the circle : one lying alongside of (contingent) : straight line drawn
to touch a circle at one point (tangent).
dibble — to get just a smattering of some subject, as to dibble in medicine or
politics (dabble) : to do with divided interest (dawdle).
dryad — a priest of early English times (druid).
entree — first course at a banquet, usually soup : something in the way of food,
new and out of season : when the waiter brings in a new course it is called
an entree : French for ' to-day ' : French for ' between ' (entre).
Eocene — the term applied to one of the early ages of civilization.
Euclid — a book written by Vergil (J3neid) : name given to certain trees (euca-
lyptus) : an ancient Egyptian who studied geometry : name of an avenue
in Cleveland, Ohio.
A RANGE OF INFORMATION TEST. 351
f-64 — means the temperature is 64 degrees above zero, Fahrenheit.
f. o. b. — cash on delivery (c. o. d.) : forward on board.
hydraulic press — a kind of air-pump, rather complicated, operated by suction
and pressure : a machine for washing dirt from gold or from steep slopes
(hydraulic mining) : the force with which water flows upon or against a
thing, as a paddle wheel.
impressionism — when a man imitates the looks or actions of another : the art
of exciting an impression.
infusoria — a chemical herb (infusion ?).
kilogram — the greatest quantity in the metric system : French measure of dis-
tance (kilometer) : French unit of liquid measure : the weight of a cube of
water whose dimensions are a kilometer.
Les Mise'rables — a French tragedy written about the last part of the 17th cen-
tury by Racine, one of the famous French writers : French work written
by George Sand, author of L,e Diable.
linotype — the product of a certain method of making prints from photographs.
Millet— a blind poet (Milton).
natural selection — in nature each animal selects its mate, a device for building
up a stronger race.
ohm — German word for uncle (Ohtim).
Polonius — a prominent character in Julius Caesar.
pomology — the study of the palm of the hand, used by fortune tellers (palm-
istry).
tort — French word for ugly (tors?).
triple expansion — the expanding of anything three times its normal size.
Utopia — a silk factory.
way-bill — a bill that is being considered
Zionism — same as Dowieism.
RESISTANCE OF KEYS AS A FACTOR IN
REACTION TIMES.1
BY J. V. BREITWIESER, M.A.,
Assistant in Psychology, 1906-8, Indiana University.
The results tabulated in this paper are from records made in
the psychological laboratory at Indiana University during the
academic year of 1907-8.
A few records with varying resistances of the reaction key
were taken in the summer of 1906. These showed an incre-
ment in the reaction time as the resistance of the reacting key
was increased. With a view to further investigate this problem
special keys were made and a program for more experimental
data was arranged.
As finally formulated, the purpose of the experiment was,
(i) To find what difference in the reaction time would be caused
by increasing the resistance of the reacting key from 50 to 500,
1,000 and 1,500 grams; (2) to find the variation in the number
of taps that could be made in five seconds with the same series
of resistances ; (3) to ascertain the changes in the reaction time
for an isolated movement, namely, that of the last joint of the
index finger with a series of varying resistances, beginning at
1,000 grams, and increasing 500 each time until it went beyond
the lifting ability of the muscles involved.
As will be shown more fully below, the measurements for
the records in tables i, 2 and 3 were made with keys which
required a movement like that of the ordinary telegraph key,
while for those in No. 4 an ergograph was used.
APPARATUS.
The apparatus used for measuring the reaction time was an
improved type of pendulum chronoscope with accessories as de-
signed by Professor Bergstrom. The original form of the
1 From the Psychological I/aboratory of Indiana University, J. A. Berg-
strom, director till August i, 1908.
352
RESISTANCE OF KEYS IN REACTION TIMES.
353
chronoscope is described in the PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, Vol.
VII., No. 5, and that of the improved type with accessories was
reported at the meeting of the American Psychological Associ-
ation at Chicago in 1907.
The key, which was of the break circuit type, was so ar-
ranged that the tension of a spring could be brought to bear
upon it so that various pressures could be required for the break-
ing of the circuit.
The signal for the reaction was given by a spring sounder
with a scale showing the height of the hammer stroke, thus
making it possible to make the strength of stroke perfectly
uniform.
To count the number of the tapping movements a recorder
like that described by W. L. Bryan in the American Journal of
Psychology, November, 1892, was employed. The time for
the tapping experiments was kept by a metronome which was
checked with a stop watch.
FIG. i.
The key for recording the excess of pressure consisted of a
long steel blade (a) (see Fig. i) so mounted that the pressing
button (ft) was on the short arm of the lever, which was mounted
on an axis at (c). Under the long arm of the lever was fastened
a short spring which allowed only a small movement for a con-
siderable increase in pressure. This spring did not exert any
pressure when the lever was at rest, and served as a resistance
for the excess pressure which was measured, as will be described
below, by the height of stroke on a kymograph drum. A brass
post (e) stood under the long end of the lever where the current
was made or broken with the platinum contacts. It was the
breaking of this current which stopped the chronoscope in the
reaction experiments. The end of the lever was in connection
354 J- V. BREITWIESER.
with a tambour (_/), a tube from which ran to the recording
tambour writing on a kymograph drum which recorded the
movement of the lever after the connection at (e) was broken.
The varying resistances were introduced by the spring (g), the
tension of which was varied by the screw (Ji).
The up stroke of the recording tambour therefore drew a
line on the revolving drum which was proportional to the excess
pressure exerted on the key. Various measured pressures were
then put on the button (3) of the key and the height of the stroke
of the recording tambour measured on a scale. With this scale
the tambour strokes could be measured and their value recorded
in terms of grams of pressure on the key.
The records given in the tables were taken throughout a
period of 46 weeks. Usually a full set was taken at a sitting
with rests between trials to avoid fatigue which seemed to have
much influence especially with the heavier resistances. All
records are recorded in thousandths of a second. A few records
were discarded where it was known with certainty that the
subject had been disturbed by outside influences. Subjects
were kept as free as possible from distracting disturbances and
were asked in every instance to give as nearly as possible a uni-
form concentration of effort on work at hand. An attempt was
made to have all records made with the same kind of movement
so as to have as nearly as possible the same muscles to deal
with.
Tables of the results show in each instance the amount of
resistance of the key and the corresponding record, also the
mean variation. A ' ready ' signal was given for every reaction
and then the sounder was snapped and the time interval between
snap of key and subject's pressing of key recorded. All reac-
tion records are to auditory stimuli and of the motor type.
PROGRAM FOR DAILY EXPERIMENT.
In the first series of experiments the resistance of the reac-
tion key was set at 50, 500, 1,000, and 1,500 grams. A record
of ten reactions was taken with each of the respective resistances
and then the order of reacting so that ten records were taken
again for each resistance, but beginning at 1,500 grams and
RESISTANCE OF KEYS IN REACTION TIMES. 355
going back to the 50 grams. This programme was followed
by all the subjects. They were never allowed to quit without
completing this program ; thus there were never less than 80
reaction records taken at a sitting. The purpose of this pro-
gram was to equalize the effect of practice and fatigue on the
reactions for the respective resistances.
In the second series of experiments, an ergograph l was em-
ployed as a reacting key in connection with the pendulum
chronoscope ; and so arranged that whenever a certain amount
was lifted on the ergograph it recorded the reaction time on the
chronoscope in much the same manner as the keys used. This
reacting movement had the advantage of isolation and uniformity.
In this experiment the index fingers were used and only the end
joint allowed to move, the finger being so clamped as to isolate
this movement from the rest of the hand.
When the ergograph and the chronoscope were used together
the following method was employed. Ten reaction records were
taken for every resistance, beginning with 1,000 grams as the
lightest and increasing the amount by 500 grams each time.
This increase was continued up to a point where the subject was
unable to lift the weight, then the reverse order was taken with
ten readings for every 5oo-gram variation in weight running
from heavy to light. The ergograph resistance is counted as if
applied 31.8 mm. from the center of rotation of the joint.
The subjects who served in the experiments were chosen
from the regular students working in the psychological labora-
tory. For the beginning experiments they were Mr. Smith and
Mr. Durgee. The remaining two thirds of the school year
Messrs. Miller and Harris acted as subjects. They will be re-
ferred to by their respective initials. The writer also acted as
a subject in all experiments except where the ergograph was
used as a reacting key ; he will be designated by the letter B.
All subjects had done over twelve weeks of experimental
work in psychology. H. and M. were especially strong men
and had shown themselves to be very steady in experimental
work. H. was about 27 years old, M. 25. None of the sub-
jects had any preconceived notions as to what the results of the
1 J. A. Bergstrom, ' A New Type of Ergograph with a Discussion of Ergo-
graph Experimentation,' Am. Jour, of Psych., Vol. 14, 1903.
/. V. BREITWIESER.
experiments would be and their effort in all the reactions was to
make them as quickly as possible.
From the experiments thus performed we have the following
results :
The averages for 125 reactions each for 50, 500, 1,000, and
1,500 grams resistance were as follows, the reaction records
being made by S., D. and B. on the first type of key used,
which did not record the excess pressure. We also have the
averages of thirty-five records of the number of taps made in
five seconds on the same key. The resistance for the tapping
records being the same series as in the reaction records. The
records of this table are regarded as preliminary, and are there-
fore given merely as simple averages.
TABLE I.
Resistance of Key.
50 Grams.
500 Grams.
1,000 Grams.
1,500 Grams.
Av. reaction time for all records of
S , D. and BI
II2.8
127. S
141 8
I4Q 7
Av No of taps in 5 sec. S
57-8
56.5
54 8
C2 T.
Av No taps in 5 sec B
•52.6
48.8
44 2
40 8
In Table II., in which the results are given more in detail,
will be found averages for 180 reaction records for each resist-
ance made by H., M. and B. on the second key, described
above, which recorded the excess of pressure in the reaction.
A few tapping records are also reported. The same resistances
were used as in Table I.
TABLE II.
50 Grams.
500 Grams.
1,000 Grams.
1,500 Grams.
M. V.
M.V.
M.V.
M.V
Average reaction time for H.
71-3
12.6
92.2
12.6
102.3
12.
108.6
13-
" " M.
98.1
n.8
H6.5
8.4
130.5
II- 5
139-3
10.2
<( « « II T)
75-
12.
89.6
10.4
102.9
10.4
119.8
9.2
" all-
81.7
99-3
III-9
123.2
Mean variation for all.
14-23
10.49
11.22
10.86
Average No. of taps in 5
seconds for all.
49.6
49.2
44.8
41.8
In Table III. will be found averages of the measurements
of the excess pressure used. Excess pressure is that above
what was necessary to break the circuit which stopped the
RESISTANCE OF KEYS IN REACTION TIMES.
357
chronoscope index. The results which are given in grams are
as follows :
TABLE III.
Resistance of Key.
50 Grama.
500 Grama.
x.ooe Grama.
i, 500 Grama.
Average excess for H.
" " M.
" " •« B.
" of all readings
7II.2
854.0
814.1
793-2
864.1
970-5
1,327-9
I.OSI.I
I,o8l.3
802.0
I,2O2.9
1,028.7
1,171.6
891.6
935-3
998.8
To measure the effect of practice on the excess pressure used,
the average excess for each successive day was found, the subject
going through the program as stated above. The results are
given in Table IV.
TABLE IV.
Successive
days.
B
M.
H.
I
1187.5
1493-0
1869.37
2
880.0
1321.25
I333.67
3
II2O.O
655.62
921.25
4
9II.2
605.0
661.25
5
758-7
480.62
827.5
6
653-7
694.37
7
884.3
While there are two exceptions in B's averages and one
each in M's and H's there appears to be a decrease in the
amount of excess on successive days. Table V. gives the
averages of reactions with the ergograph, used as the reacting
key, in which the last joint of the index finger was used to pro-
duce the movement. This table shows the average of twenty
Resistance in Grams.
31.8 mm. from Center of Rota-
tion of Joint.
1,000
1,500
2.OOO
2,500
3,000
3.500
4,OOO
4,500
5,000
6,000
TABLE V.
Reaction Time.
M.
85.0
85-5
94.1
101.8
103-3
112.3
II2.8
124.9
154.0
Reaction Time.
H.
88.3
109.6
"7-3
121. 6
136.5
147-3
157.6
164.2
183-3
209-3
216.8
/. V. BREITWIESER.
records for each weight. This series
was the last taken, the subjects hav-
ing thus had the practice of all the
previous experiments.
Near the limit of the muscle
ability to move the weight, the re-
action time is evidently nearly double
what it is at the beginning.
In Fig. 2 is given a part of the
kymograph record of the excess
pressure used in tapping. It shows
that the excess, or surplus force,
was expended in rhythmic or pulse-
like beats for the curve runs in a
wave form. One curve for five
seconds began at an excess of five
hundred grams which increased in
about five taps to an excess of from
800 to 1,200 grams, then lowered to
50 grams and then rose again to the
same excess. The number of taps
between the greatest excesses varied
from 10 to 20. The increase or
decrease of a series of excess aver-
ages is usually regular, yet isolated
high or low records also occur.
From the above tables of results
we may draw the following con-
clusions :
1. Reaction time is lengthened
or shortened, respectively, when the
resistance of the reacting key is in-
creased or decreased within the
limits employed. The resistance of
the reaction key should therefore be
made definite, and should be stated
in reaction experiments.
2. The rate of tapping is greates
RESISTANCE OF KEYS IN REACT/ON TIMES. 359
with the minimal resistance employed, and decreases as the
resistance is increased.
3. The excess force used in a reaction movement does not
seem to vary in a marked or definite way with the resistance,
in other words, it is largely independent of it.
4. The graphic records for the excess show a tendency
towards rhythm, especially in the tapping records.
5. The excess diminishes (more or less regularly) with
practice. (Table IV.)
A peculiar fact (perhaps worth noting) is that with the or-
dinary reaction key M.'s records were longer, while with the
ergograph his records were shorter than H.'s. The evidence
in detail will be found in Tables II. and V.
Some work on this and closely related problems has already
been done. In 1892, M. Ch. Fere1 arrived at the following
conclusions :
For one and the same subject the reaction time is longer
according as the weight to be lifted is heavier — provided that
the weight is not known beforehand. When, however, the
weight to be lifted is known to the subject beforehand the length
of reaction time does not vary regularly with the weight, but
with the capability of the subject to adapt his attention.
It was found however in our experiment, that even though
the subject learned the resistances, he still had an increment in
his reaction time that increased as the resistance was increased.
Helmholtz found that the total muscular force was not de-
veloped instantaneously. Haycraft 2 of the University of Wales,
working upon this problem found that if a muscle be lightly
loaded, the muscular force sufficient to raise the weight will be
developed say in T^7 of a second ; if it be loaded with a heavier
weight, the greater muscular force requisite to raise it in this
case will not be developed say for three or four hundredths of
a second.
The amount of pressure was measured by Delabarre s in his
experiment on the force and rapidity of reaction movement.
1 Comptes Rendus de la SocitU de Biologie, 9th Series, Vol. IV., 1892, pp.
432-435-
* Journal of Physiol., Vol. 23.
'PSYCHOL. REV., Vol. IV.
360 /. V. BREITWIESER.
He made a study of temperament by taking the reaction time
itself, the degree of pressure used by the subject, and the
rapidity with which he contracted his reacting muscles. The
degree of pressure in this case was measured by the height of a
mercury column forced up by the reacting movement. In this
experiment as well as the one reported by Fere, we have the
force of inertia to overcome at the beginning of the reaction
movement while in the experiment reported in this paper all
resistances were made by varying tensions of springs, thus re-
ducing the effect of inertia.
If we attempt an explanation of the effects observed one of
the possible explanations is that the tip of the finger is capable
of quite a good deal of compression and that perhaps some little
time was consumed in bringing about this compression before
the key was actually moved, which would make the heavy
reactions longer than the light. To a slight extent this must be
true, but not to a very great extent, especially in the ergograph
reactions which followed the same law of increment, for here
the finger was placed snugly in a thimble where the com-
pression on all sides was great enough to move the resistances
with very little compression.
It has been shown in physiological experiments that muscles
have a certain amount of elasticity. Lombard in speaking of
the effect of different weights on the gastrocnemius muscle of a
frog says : " There can be no movement of the lever until the
inertia of the weight has been overcome and the first effect of
the contraction is to stretch the muscles, a part of the energy of
contraction being changed to elastic force, which on the recoil
assists in raising the weight. Thus the myogram may fail to
reveal the instant that the contraction process starts.
" Inasmuch as tension increases the activity of muscle pro-
toplasm it is probable that the presence of the weight really
hastens the liberation of energy at the same time that it delays
the recording of the contraction." This seems to be a very
probable explanation for the increase of the reaction time with
the increase of the resistance, and may be regarded as one of
the chief factors in producing the results recorded above.
A further explanation may be that the nervous impulse itself
RESISTANCE OF KEYS IN REACTION TIMES. 361
is a thing of volume and requires time in formation and con-
duction, and the greater the strength of impulse required the
longer the time required to get the requisite amount of stimula-
tion to the nerve ending. The subjects felt the constantly in-
creasing sense of effort the greater the resistance. This may
however have been the feeling arising at least in part from the
external movements resulting from the effects of the effort put
forth. This also is a possible partial explanation of the results.
ANNOUNCEMENT.
THE seventh International Congress for Psychology will be held
in 1913, in the United States, the city to be determined later by the
committee in charge. The following officers have been appointed:
Honorary President, William James; President, J. Mark Baldwin;
Vice-Presidents, E. B. Titchener, J. McK. Cattell ; General Secre-
tary, John B. Watson. A report of the sixth Congress, held in Geneva
last month, will appear in an early number of the BULLETIN.
362
N. S. VOL. XVI. No. 6. November, 1909.
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW.
SOME EXPERIMENTS ON THE COLOR PERCEP-
TIONS OF AN INFANT AND THEIR
INTERPRETATION.
BY HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
While observing the development of a normal healthy in-
fant, I became convinced that her interest in colors, and prob-
ably her perception of them, developed during the latter part of
the sixth month. The ability to grasp objects was not gained
until the beginning of the fifth month. During the latter part
of the fifth and early part of the sixth month, I made several
rough attempts to discover whether she displayed any prefer-
ence for bright colored objects, but could detect none. She
had two celluloid rattles, alike except for color. One was a
dull blue, and the other a brilliant rose pink. The brightness
difference was slightly in favor of the blue. When the two
rattles were held out for her to grasp, she took the easier one if
there was any difference in the difficulty of obtaining them. If
no such difference existed, her choice seemed to depend on
chance. About the middle of the sixth month I thought I no-
ticed a dawning preference for the bright pink rattle. By the
end of the month, the pink rattle was so decidedly the favorite
that she would reach for it when it was placed behind other
toys, overlooking the blue one entirely. The color preference
in this case seemed so marked that I was tempted to try a series
of tests to corroborate my observation of color vision at so early
a period.
The method to be used in making the tests was suggested
by the behavior of the infant herself. She seemed to be pass-
ing through a stage of sense comparison. I frequently saw
her looking back and forth from one to the other of two similar
363
364 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
objects — two faces, two chandeliers, or what not. It occurred
to me accordingly to try the method of paired comparison,
rather than that used by Baldwin with an older child, that of
recording the number of times the child reached, or failed to
reach, for a colored paper. My preliminary tests convinced
me that the method was applicable. When offered two pieces
of colored paper of the same size and shape the child looked
back and forth from one to the other, and then grasped one of
them, often with a comical appearance of mature deliberation.
After grasping the paper, she turned it back and forth, looking
carefully at both sides.
In making the tests, the usual precautions for securing fa-
vorable conditions were observed. Tests were made only when
the child was feeling well and rested ; and when the light was
good. The child was placed sitting in as easy a position as
possible, with both arms free to move. The colors were pre-
sented in the form of discs of colored paper four and one half
inches in diameter. In each test two discs laid side by side
•were moved up to the child directly in front of her. Care was
taken to see that the two were equally illuminated. The tests
were made in series of ten, or in a few cases twelve, choices,
half in each of the two positions. The influence of position,
and of the hand used, was thus eliminated from the results,
though both factors were recorded, and will be reported upon
in a separate communication. The background upon which
the discs were laid was a medium gray in all cases except those
in which one of the discs to be compared was gray. In those
cases the background was white.
There are two sources of error to be considered. The first
one is the imperfect eye-hand coordination of the child. Occa-
sionally it was evident that while intent on one piece of paper,
she grasped the other by mistake. When this occurred, she
usually held the paper a short time, with her eyes still on the
other one, and then dropped it for a second trial for the pre-
ferred color. Sometimes the feeling of the first disc in her hand
diverted her attention to the new sensation, and made her forget
her original intention. It was easy to tell from observing the
child whether she had grasped the paper she intended to take
COLOR PERCEPTIONS OF AN INFANT. 365
or not. The mistakes were not of frequent occurrence, and
were excluded from the results if there was the slightest am-
biguity of interpretation. This source of error, therefore,
seemed to me negligible. The other difficulty was somewhat
more serious. It was due to the fact that the series of discs
with which I began the tests was not of uniform texture. Some
of them were the Hering tissue paper discs, some were the later
washed papers of Hering, and some were from the Milton
Bradley papers. The black was the black velvet paper of the
Hering series. I soon saw that the rattle of the tissue paper,
and the rough feeling of the black velvet paper were interesting
to the child, and associations which began to influence choice
were formed with the black velvet paper, and possibly with the
tissue papers. As soon as I had noticed the fact, I made a
complete series of discs from the Milton Bradley papers, and
the greater part of the tests were made with these.1
The tables of results show the comparisons made. Each of
the four colors blue, yellow, red and green was compared with
each of the other three colors, and with black, white and
medium gray. The tables of results fail to show the numbers
demanded by uniform series of ten or twelve, because it often
happened that some tests had to be discarded for various reasons,
and in a few cases series were not completed because of the in-
troduction of some disturbing element. The number of series
for the various pairs is also quite uneven. The experimenter
intended to complete the series which are brief, but the untimely
failure of the method, about to be chronicled, made it impossible.
The experiments were begun when the child was just six
months old, and were continued for a month. By the end of
that time she seemed to have passed beyond the intense interest
in mere sense comparison which had dominated at the start.
The act of grasping, which at first had been a mere means for
obtaining clearer sense impressions, had developed into the
ability to manipulate objects, and that became her one desire.
Instead of comparing the discs, and then carefully and labori-
ously grasping one or the other, she grabbed at them without
1 1 am indebted for all the discs to Professor James R. Angell and Professor
John B. Watson, of the University of Chicago.
366
HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
appearing to care which one she got, and often took one in each
hand, a feat which had been very difficult in the early tests.
When she got the discs, her whole desire was to crumple and
shake them, not to look at them as at first. When this stage
was reached, the tests were of course discontinued, but a suffi-
cient mass of material had been collected to throw some light
on the question of the existence of color vision at so early a
period, and even on the order of preference of the four pri-
mary colors.
TABLE I.
RED.
yellow
blue
green
black
white
gray
15-17
14-4
27-5
1 1-4
5-2
17-3
YELLOW.
red
blue
green
black
white
gray
17-15
12-12
13-7
4-6
15-5
14-6
BLUE.
red
yellow
green
black
white
gray
4-14
12-12
19-12
6-3
8-2
7-3
GREEN.
red
yellow
blue
black
white
gray
5-27
7-13
12-19
7-4
6-4
IO-IO
Black, 17 ; white, 3.
In the tables of results, the first one of each pair of numbers
indicates the number of choices of the color heading the table,
and the second, of the color heading the section, when those
two colors were compared. Thus in the table headed red, and
he section headed blue, the first number, 14, shows that when
red and blue were compared, red was chosen 14 times ; and the
second number, 4, that under the same circumstances blue was
chosen 4 times. The total number of comparisons made be-
tween the two colors is thus indicated by the sum of the two
numbers in the section.
The conclusions which it seems to me can fairly be drawn
from the tables of results are as follows. The child perceived
COLOR PERCEPTIONS OF AN INFANT. 367
red, blue and yellow as colors. It is uncertain whether or not
she perceived green as a color. Her preference for red, and
her indifference to green are striking. Blue and yellow occupy
an intermediate place, with yellow somewhat in the lead, though
no stress can be laid on the difference.
Let us consider first the outcome of the comparison of each
of the colors with the colorless discs. Out of 42 choices in
which red and a colorless disc were compared, 33 are for red
and 9 for the colorless discs ; or red 79 per cent, and colorless
discs 21 per cent. There are 50 choices in which yellow and
the colorless discs were compared. Of these 33 are for the
yellow, and 17 for the colorless discs ; or yellow 66 per cent.,
colorless discs 34 per cent. There are only 29 cases in which
blue was compared with the black-white series. Of these 21
choices are for the blue and only 8 for the colorless discs, or
blue 72 per cent., colorless discs 28 per cent. Green and the
black- white series were compared 41 times. Of these 23 choices
are for the green, and 18 for the colorless discs, or green 56
per cent., colorless discs 44 per cent.
If estimated by the preponderance of choice of colored over
uncolored papers, the order is therefore red 79 per cent., blue
72 per cent., yellow 66 per cent., and green 56 per cent. The
percentage of choices for green (56) is too small to serve as the
basis of any conclusion. The others are large enough, in my
estimation, to justify the inference of color vision.
In estimating the order of preference of the colors by means
of the comparison of one color with the others, the irregulari-
ties to be expected in such a series of tests are disturbing, but
the general trend of the tables shows differences in choice
marked enough to be significant. For instance, in the direct
comparison of red and yellow, the choices for yellow are
slightly in excess, and yet the preference for red when com-
pared with the other colors is so much greater than that for
yellow, that it seems clear that red is the preferred color.
When the preference for color is estimated by a comparison of
the number of choices for each color with the number for the
other three with which it was compared, the outcome is as fol-
lows. Red was compared with the other colors 83 times. Of
368 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
these 56 choices are for the red and 26 for the other colors ; or
red 68 per cent., other colors 32 per cent. Yellow and the
other colors were compared 76 times, of which 42 choices are
for the yellow, and 34 for the other colors, or yellow 55 per
cent., other colors 45 per cent. There were 73 comparisons of
blue with the other colors, of which 35 are for the blue and 38
for the other colsrs, or blue 48 per cent., other colors 52 per
cent. Green was compared with the other colors 83 times, of
which 24 choices are for the green and 59 for the other colors ;
or green 29 per cent., other colors 71 per cent. In this case
the order of preference is accordingly red, yellow, blue and
green.
When the total series is summed up by estimating the percent-
age of choices for each of the colors from the total number of
pairs in which each one appears, the result is as follows. Out
of 124 pairs in which red is one member, red is chosen 89 times,
or 72 per cent. Out of 126 pairs in which yellow is one mem-
ber, yellow is chosen 75 times, or 60 per cent. Out of 102
choices in which blue is one member, blue is chosen 56 times,
or 54 per cent. ; and out of 124 choices in which green is a
member, green is chosen 47 times, or 38 per cent.
The positions of blue and yellow when the preference for
color is inferred from the comparison of the colors with the un-
colored discs are not the same as when the basis of judgment is
the comparison of each color with the other colors, or with all
the other discs used. My reason for thinking the latter two for-
mulations the more significant is that the number of compari-
sons of blue with the uncolored discs happens to be much smaller
than the corresponding series for the other colors. Moreover,
as I shall point out presently, the child had a preference for
black, which, in so far as it tended to influence the choice of
colors, would enhance the value of blue fictitiously.
The question of the influence of brightness differences
on color choice must of course be considered. In the series
of papers used, yellow is the brightest color,, green next,
red third, and blue darkest. It is obvious that the child's color
preferences do not coincide with the brightness series, either as-
cending or descending. There is very little difference in her
COLOR PERCEPTIONS OF AN INFANT. 369
liking for yellow and for blue, the lightest and the darkest colors ;
and both hold a place intermediate between red and green,
which are the intermediate members in the brightness scale. If
the order of preference for the brightness is figured from the
tables of results in the same way as that for the colors, it appears
that black ranks first, gray next and white last. Out of 45
choices in which black was a member, it is preferred 17 times,
or 38 per cent. Gray was taken 22 times out of 70 choices, or
31 per cent. White was chosen 13 times out of 47 presenta-
tations, or 28 per cent. The preference for black is further
shown by a series of choices between black and white on a
medium gray ground. Out of 20 presentations, black was chosen
17 times, or 85 per cent. The child's interest in black had been
noticed before the experiments were begun. Black dresses,
and still more black hats, aroused her enthusiasm, and she dis-
played a passion for black shoes. The only explanation of the
fact I could make was to trace it back to an incident which had
happened about six weeks before the beginning of the experi-
ments. The child was sitting in my lap with her back toward
me ; and with the intention of keeping her amused, I was put-
ting up first one foot and then the other rhythmically. She was
very quiet, and I was not conscious that a deep impression was
being made until a friend who was sitting in the room exclaimed
that the infant was very much frightened. She was staring at
the appearing and disappearing feet with every expression of
intense fear on her face. I at once tried to soothe her and show
her what the object was. She is not subject to fears, in fact
that was the only instance of it during the first year. From
that time on for several months she displayed an intense in-
terest in black shoes, and secondarily in any black object. When
placed on the floor at our feet with toys about her, she invariably
neglected the toys to reach for our shoes. She cared nothing
for white shoes. Whatever the explanation for her interest in
black, the fact is undoubted. In so far as brightness differences
influenced choice, they must have tended to enhance the value
of the darker colors ; but since black itself ranks considerably
lower in the scale than any one of the colors, there is no reason
to suppose that brightness was of great importance in deter-
mining color preferences.
370 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
As a sort of control test for the colors, I conducted during
the same period a similar series of experiments with material
toward which I thought the child would be indifferent. I chose
for this purpose the large sized square and circle of the kinder-
garten gifts. The method and conditions of the experiment
were the same as those of the color tests. Out of 70 choices,
34 were for the square and 36 for the circle ; a result which is
in marked contrast to the reactions to brightness and color dif-
ferences, and indicates that mere form was in fact of no interest
to the child.
The results obtained in this series of color tests are not in
accord with the best accepted opinion up to the present time.
Miss Shinn1 in her excellent summary of the material at hand,
comes to the conclusion that color vision probably does not
develop until the last quarter of the first year, and that red is
the only color perceived until the second year. She finds no
evidence of the perception of either blue or green until the latter
half of the second year, a time when most children learn color
words.
If it were not for the series of tests which I have reported ;
if I had depended on mere observation, I should certainly be of
the same opinion as Miss Shinn, except that I should be doubt-
ful of the perception of even red during the first year and a half.
In observing the child on whom these tests were made, I have
up to the present time (16^ months) seen no further convincing
evidence of color vision. I am confident that the series of ex-
periments I have reported, if performed any time between seven
and seventeen months, would have yielded negative, or at least
ambiguous, results with regard to the perception of color. My
infant has within the last two months displayed the usual interest
in learning words, particularly the names of objects in which
she is interested. She cannot herself say the words, but she
shows her understanding of them plainly by her responses.
She also understands a few qualitative words, though no effort
to teach them has been made. Thinking that the time was ripe
for learning the color names, I have again given her the colored
discs used in the tests, and have attempted to teach the word
1 Notes on the Development of a Child, 1907, II., p. 159 ff.
COLOR PERCE IONS OF AN INFANT. 371
red, but so far without success. The amount of time and effort
I have expended on it would be more than sufficient to teach the
name of an object in which she was interested. In this point
my experience coincides with that of other observers. Miss
Shinn reports that all the children of whose vocabularies she
has records learned not only other words, but other qualitative
words before those for color.
This series of facts, if the facts can be regarded as estab-
lished, needs further interpretation. Let me summarize. Color
vision has been shown to exist in the case of at least one infant
at six months. Neither in the case of this infant, nor in that of
any other on record is there convincing evidence of color vision
in the period between seven and sixteen to eighteen months,
except a few cases of interest in red and more doubtfully yellow.
Experiments conducted during this period have yielded am-
biguous results.1 The next conclusive evidence of color vision
coincides with the period of learning color names, a stage which
is reached by most children some time between the sixteenth
month and two years. Words for color are always acquired
later than some other descriptive adjectives.
There are three problems presented by this series of facts
for which I would like to offer a tentative solution : first, why
after becoming capable of color vision, the child should give so
little evidence of it for so long a time ; second, why the child's
interest in color vision should display itself just when it does ;
and third, why other descriptive adjectives should be understood
by the child before those for color.
All of these problems seem to me capable of explanation by
the laws of interest and attention. In observing the infant on
whom these tests were made, I have been very much impressed
by the extent to which the young infant displays certain domi-
nant stages of development of interest in his world, which de-
termine not the possibilities of perception, but the actual dis-
criminations made. My first tests were made at a time when I
felt sure that the child was absorbed in sensory experiences, or,
if the word sensory involves the psychological fallacy, in a
1 Miss Shinn's criticisms of Professor Baldwin's tests (loc. cit., p. 155) seem
to me valid.
372 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
largely passive experiencing of the world. She was intent on
listening to sounds, looking at objects, and comparing them
visually, or alternately looking at and feeling of objects. In
all these activities it is of course true that her attitude was not
entirely passive. She was making accommodations to her
world, and motor coordinations were being developed. But
what seemed to be uppermost in her consciousness was not the
movements she was making with eyes or hands, but the sense
impressions she was receiving. The movements were a mere
means for obtaining a clearer sense impression. In my experi-
ments she first compared the two discs visually, and then
grasped the one she wanted and brought it nearer her eyes for
a more careful look. At about the end of the sixth month,
when the act of grasping had become precise and easy, and
had begun to develop into the ability to manipulate objects, the
center of interest seemed to shift quite rapidly from the pas-
sive to the active aspect of experience. It was no longer a
question of what sense impressions were being received from an
object, but rather of what manipulations could be made with an
object. She had discovered her capacity to act and had ceased
to be a mere spectator. Only objects that could be handled
held the child's attention for any length of time and she became
endlessly eager to get hold of new objects. In my experiments,
it was as though she ceased to care whether the paper was red
or gray, but cared only that it was something she could crumple
and tear. The stage of absorption in the process of manip-
ulating objects has lasted unimpaired up to the present time.
The child's life has been devoted to such activities as putting
the cover on to a box and taking it off again, turning over the
leaves of books ; putting her toys into a basket and taking them
out again, trying to put on her own clothes, and taking off the
doll's shoes and stockings. When I give her colored discs to
play with, her whole desire is to do something with them; to
put them into a box and take them out again, or bring them to
me and take them away again, or put her finger and mine
through the hole in the disc. For all these purposes one disc is
as good as another. When I demand that she shall bring me
only the red one, or put only the red one into the box, I am in-
COLOR PERCEPTIONS OF AN INFANT. 373
terfering with the normal course of her activities, and she only
gets angry and impatient. She does not understand, not be-
cause she ia incapable of experiencing the colors, but because
nothing in her activities at the time hangs upon their discrimi-
nation. The child, like the adult, attends to and discriminates
only those aspects of experience which are of importance in
carrying out his purposes.
But why, to take up my second point, at a somewhat later
period does the child suddenly find that color is of importance
to him? The child whom I have under observation has not yet
reached that point, and in attempting an interpretation of the
fact I feel on less certain ground. It seems to me, however, that
it marks another shift of attention, conditioned by the acquisition
of a degree of mastery over the process of manipulation. It is
the general law of attention, that to the extent to which the process
which has been absorbing it has become habitual, to that extent
does attention shift to some new phase. As soon as one prob-
lem is solved, another arises. By the time a child is about eigh-
teen months of age, he has become familiar with the common ob-
jects about him, and knows with some accuracy what can be done
with them. The mere handling of objects is therefore no longer
so absorbing as to occupy the field of attention exclusively. On
the other hand it is a sufficiently well coordinated activity to
serve as a means to some further end. The child's attention
shifts to making further sensory discriminations because it is
free to do so, and because he has become capable of a more
differentiated response to his world, a response which demands
more discrimination.
Miss Shinn's account of the development of her niece's in-
terest in color offers an excellent illustration. She began to ex-
ercise herself in color discriminations by pulling the books out
of the bookcase, and calling the color of each one as she did
so. At an earlier period the mere act of pulling out the books
had been in itself an absorbing activity. When it had, through
practice, become a well coordinated and partly habitual act, her
attention was free to pass on to new aspects of the experience,
and she began to discriminate among the books. The act of
pulling out books had became sufficiently habitual so that it
374 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
could be used as a means of obtaining this book or that, and
distinctions among the books became of importance accordingly.
Though, as I have said, my own infant has not yet arrived at
an interest in color, I can see signs that her attention has begun
to shift from the process of manipulation. Until very recently,
for instance, all she cared to do with a book was to open and
close it, or turn over the leaves. She was impatient of any at-
tempt to interfere with this activity by trying to call her atten-
tion to the pictures, though she had shown her ability to inter-
pret pictures under favorable conditions. Now she voluntarily
stops to look at the pictures.
The third point which I wished to discuss is the interpreta-
tion of the fact that most children learn other descriptive adjec-
tives before those for color, and even the words dark or black
before color words. To Miss Shinn the facts point toward a
late development of color vision itself. To quote her argu-
ment: "Can we consider the wave of attention and discrimina-
tion as due only to the new power to name the perceptions ? — a
power that is always intensely interesting to the child, and that
Itads him often to discriminating observation of things he had
scarcely noticed before ? It would really beg the question to
say so ; why should the power to name the perceptions be de-
layed to this period, when other concepts, which seem to us
much more abstract and less obvious, are rapidly coming to ex-
pression ? . . . And I cannot see that there would have been
any more advanced analysis in pointing at a red ribbon, or blot
of red ink, and crying « red,' than in pointing at a blot of black
ink, or a coal smutch, and crying 'black.' Yet the red identi-
fication seemed impossible to my niece for two months after the
black one was easy ; to Mrs. Hall's boy for at least four months.
Both these children, moreover, used several other descriptive
adjectives before color names appeared ; and while no other
record corroborates mine as Mrs. Hall's does with regard to the
early appearance of black (dark, however, often appears early),
all the vocabularies in my hands show that other adjectives pre-
cede those of color, by a considerable interval — two or three
months, even up to eight months, in all cases where I can fix
the dates" (loc. ct't., p. 163).
COLOR PERCEPTIONS OF AN INFANT. 375
It is doubtless true that pointing at a red object and crying
4 red ' is no more difficult a piece of analysis than pointing at a
black one and crying • black ' ; and yet there may be a reason
why the wave of attention and discrimination should, as a matter
of fact, take one direction rather than the other. That is to
say, there may be circumstances in the conditions surrounding
the average child which lead him to make certain kinds of dis-
crimination earlier than others of apparently equal ease. In
fact every child makes an enormous number of sensory dis-
criminations whose temporal order must be determined by some
other factor than that of difficulty. Now it seems to me that
there are circumstances in the surroundings of the average nor-
mal child which should lead him to single out some other quali-
tative aspects of experience earlier than color. To apply the
laws of attention once more, the child attends to those aspects
of experience which are of importance in directing his activi-
ties. So long as the child's activities are still in the stage of
mastering the simple, gross manipulation of the objects about
him, color is a factor which is rarely of crucial importance.
The quality hot, on the other hand, is sure to be early learned
because of its obvious practical import. Hot objects are objects
which must not be handled under penalty of immediate and cer-
tain pain. Hot food is food which must not be eaten. My
own infant, though as I have said, she does not as yet under-
stand color words, knows the meaning of the words ' another,'
or * the other ' perfectly, concepts which at first sight seem more
abstract than color. Her mastery of them has come about sim-
ply enough in the course of her activities. She is- very fond of
trying to put on her own shoes or my slippers. After she has
succeeded with one, I say "Where is the other?" and she
understands because the word denotes something that is of im-
portance to her at the moment. Again she is putting her
blocks into a basket, and I keep asking for another block to
put in. The words now have a generalized meaning for her.
But in trying to teach the color words, I have failed to create a
situation where the color is of any inherent value in controlling
her activities. What she can do with one disc, she can with
another. I have tried to throw an artificial stress on the red by
376 HELEN THOMPSON WOOLLEY.
arbitrarily refusing to accept any other to put into the basket, or
shut up in the box. In time I think even this arbitrary condi-
tion will bring about the desired discrimination, but the child
knows as well as I do that my restriction is arbitrary, and that
as far as her interests are concerned one disc has no advantage
over the others. What I have called out so far is indignation
at my arbitrary interference, not discrimination of the red.
The child recognizes the spoken word perfectly well, but wishes
to apply it to all the discs.
The same kind of difficulty has confronted me in trying to
teach the words thumb and finger. She recognizes both words,
but wishes to apply them both to all the appendages of the hand.
There can be no doubt, of course, that she perceives the thumb
as a separate object from the fingers, but there is no situation
where it is important to her to single out that appendage and
set it over against the others. The words square and circle,
too, with as much effort, have had as little success as the color
words.
The fact that most children learn the word dark early, and
that some of them learn black before the colors seems to me
capable of a similar pragmatic interpretation. The experience
'dark 'is of obvious practical importance to the young child.
A dark room is one in which all his activities are impeded, and,
moreover, usually means going to bed. One would have to
know the circumstances under which the word black was learned
by the children to whom Miss Shinn refers to know whether
the same principle applies, but a very probable way for the word
to become of early importance is with reference to dirty, black
hands which have to be washed, or a black dress which must be
changed.
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS AND THE LOCALIZA-
TION OF SENSORY DATA DURING
. DIZZINESS.
BY PROFESSOR EDWIN B. HOLT,
Harvard University.
If a person sitting with his eyes closed and his head in an
upright position is slowly set in rotation about a vertical axis
lying within or near his head, he meets with a considerable
variety of sensory experience. All these sensory data contribute
more or less toward the perception of motion, but in different
ways. And these data fall into three general groups which it
takes no extremely subtle introspection to distinguish.
i. Firstly, one distinguishes a group of sensations which
proceed from extra-peripheral stimuli : currents of air are felt
by their impact or their temperature, on any uncovered surfaces
of skin ; any source of light which can be dimly perceived
through the eyelids or eye-bandages, will be seen intermittently
as with each rotation the face is brought opposite the light ; any
source of sound will be heard alternately loud and faint as with
each rotation an ear is twice presented to it. The air currents
would of themselves give no clue to the movement of the per-
son's own body, and they are ordinarily felt as somewhat irrele-
vant data, which hardly even tend to fuse with the other sen-
sations of motion. The visual and the (doubly rapid) auditory
intermittences become, with increasing speed of rotation, rhythms
of which the spatial or temporal significations are subject to
considerable individual differences. Thus for my own intro-
spection the visual intermittence becomes a temporal rhythm,
while the auditory sensations become a hoop of sound lying
horizontally about the head as a center, and having two spots
of maximum loudness opposite each other, and two of minimum
loudness midway between them. I have sometimes, though
seldom, had from the visual intermittence a comparable hoop of
light. In any case the person is aware of a relative motion
377
378 EDWIN B. HOLT.
between his body and the hoop of sound, or light, but which of
these is at rest and which in rotation is so far ambiguous and is
determined by the factors given in group 3. Both the visual
and the auditory phenomena are readily isolated in introspec-
tion, and both are felt to be distinctly 'secondary criteria' of
motion.
The three sorts of sensation so far mentioned may all be
eliminated by fairly simple precautions (though they are also
readily ignored by the observer), but another kind of sensation
is neither so readily climated, nor ignored, nor distinguished
from the sensations of group 2. This kind comprises the tac-
tual sensations mainly of the hands, back, thighs and soles of
the feet, which vary with the inertia of the body and with the
centrifugal moment induced by the rotation. These sensations,
while less clearly a secondary criterion of motion, while more
intimately associated, that is, with the sensations of group 2
and even of group 3, can still after some practice be distin-
guished as tactual sensations of varying strength.
2. Secondly, there are the sensations from proprio-ceptive
organs (Sherrington, '06, p. 130) in joints, muscles and other
tissues, which are stimulated (similarly to the last-named class
of group i) by the inertia of the trunk, limbs, internal organs,
and even perhaps of the blood, and by their centrifugal mo-
ment. Sensations supposed to be stimulated in this way in the
cerebellar mass or its sensitive coatings were originally adduced
by Purkinje (Aubert, '88, S. 119-120) to explain dizziness ; and
in connection with movements of translation Delage ('86, p.
623) has referred to sensations seemingly " produced by a sort
of internal tidal movement in which all the liquids and such
solid organs as have any mobility, participate." While such
factors are hypothetical, certain sensations from proprio-ceptive
organs in joints, tendons and muscles undoubtedly play a part
in the perception of the motion of one's own body (Schafer,
'87; Breuer, '90, S. 204; Mach, '73, S. 127; Abels, '06, S.
382). It is difficult even after practice to distinguish introspec-
tively these sensations from those of group 3, except when, with
a high speed of rotation, they become intense, whereupon they
are readily distinguishable as secondary criteria, from the true
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 379
sensations of movement of group 3. How much these proprio-
ceptive stimulations when not intense contribute to the percep-
tion of movement is hard to determine. Some writers, as
Abels ('06 and '07), have wished to find in them the very basis
of that perception, but this is an unwarrantable view for as
Mach ('74, S. 130) has said : ** One can scarcely explain feel-
ings of motion in terms of skin or muscle sensations, in view of
the feelings in the head, the enormous influence of the head
position, and Flourens's experiment : " and indeed Mach might
have added, in view of well-nigh every fact that experiment
has yielded regarding the canals and sacs of the ear (cf. also
Breuer, '07). Or, as (Crum) Brown has said ('95, p. 15), "A
few experiments . . . will convince any one that we have here
to do with a perfectly definite sense, and not with any vague
sensations caused by the inertia of the soft parts of the body."
Nevertheless the proprio-ceptive sensations are of interest here,
and deserve more experimental notice than they have so far
had.
3. Thirdly, there are the true sensations of motion which
are in some way dependent on the semicircular canals, and
probably the sacs, of the ear. These present a remarkable
complication of phenomena, with which we shall have chiefly
to deal in the present paper. And firstly introspectively. If a
person sitting with his eyes closed and head upright is rotated
about a vertical axis within or near his head, and if the speed
of rotation increases continuously, the person feels his body to
be rotating in the direction of the actual motion, and he also
generally feels objects in the space around him (by as much as
he is aware of them) to be moving more or less rapidly in the
opposite direction. Two things, in short, the body and the
objects around it, are felt to be in relative motion.
Problem I. — What organs yield the sensation of rotation?
I believe that it has not so far been noticed that unless the
rotation is very rapid, the direction of the attention is able to
determine which of these shall be felt to be the more involved
in motion and which to be almost or quite at rest. If, namely,
the person ' directs his attention ' to his own person, this will
seem to be in rapid motion while then the environment may
380 EDWIN B. HOLT.
seem to be quite at rest : but if the attention is directed to the
environment sweeping by, if, that is, the sensations of groups
i and 2 occupy the focus of attention, the objects about the
person will seem to whirl rapidly to the rear while his own body
will seem to be nearly or quite at rest. I find also in this case
a faint suggestion in consciousness of a space far behind these
dimly presented objects, which is, like my body, at rest.
When the rotation is rapid, however, it is much more difficult
and often impossible to achieve such a 'setting' of the atten-
tion. Also, as we shall later see, some individual differences
are to be expected in this field. This influence of the direction
of the attention on the perception of motion during rotation is
doubtless analogous with the effect mentioned by Hering of the
same factor, on the apparent position of objects.
Problem II. — What is it which is involved in what we
introspectively call ' setting the attention,' which in the case of
rotation can shift the appearance of motion from one object to
another?
If the rotation is long protracted at an ever-increasing rate
of speed, the person becomes sick. This phase is no part of
dizziness proper, and does not here concern us. The remain-
ing introspective phenomena which interest us occur when the
speed of rotation is decreasing, and after the rotation has
stopped. Now when the acceleration of motion changes from
positive, or zero, to negative, the person feels without appreci-
able latency both himself and the objects around him to be
rotating in the contrary direction. Here, too, the direction of
the attention is of influence, but here the attention is to be
directed against the illusory motion, stemming the tide as it
were, and then the movement both of the body and of such sen-
sations as one has of the outer objects (group i) is alike dimin-
ished or annulled.
Problem III. — How does setting the attention against the
illusory post-rotary movement reduce the apparent motion of
both the body and the enviroment?
If now the eyes are opened, the apparent rotation persists
(although cf. Barany, '06, S. 223) save that the visual field is
far more prominent than before ; and it is still whirling con-
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 381
trariwise to the original rotation. As Mach ('73, S. 127) has
described it: " As soon as the apparatus is slowed down one
has the feeling of making a contrary rotation together with the
box [in which one is enclosed] . If now the box is opened, en-
tire visual space with its contents rotates. // is as if all visible
space -were turning within a second space which one believes to
be motionless, although it is identified by no visible cue. One
might almost believe that there exists behind visual space another
space to which the visual is always referred."
Furthermore, during the decrease or immediately after the
end of the rotation, objects presented to the tactual sense are
felt to be in contrary rotation, similar to that of the visual field.
This tactual dizziness is far less pronounced than the visual,
but is sufficiently attested by Purkinje ('20), Mach ('oo, S. 100),
Wundt ('02, Bd. 2, S. 586) and others. There is likewise an
auditory dizziness quite analogous to the preceding, whereby
sources of (continuous) sound appear, after the rotation, to
rotate contrariwise. As Miinsterberg and Pierce ('94, p. 475)
have described it : ''If after the rotation, but while the eyes were
still closed, the sound was given continuously for a time, it
seemed to make the illusory movement too : it remained, that is,
in constant orientation with the body." These visual and audi-
tory phenomena experienced after rotation are not, of course,
to be confused with the * hoops ' and other phenomena of group
i experienced during rotation.
The foregoing phenomena immediately suggest the follow-
ing problems :
Problem IV. — Why does the body appear to reverse its
motion and to rotate contrariwise when the acceleration becomes
negative and after the actual rotation has ceased?
Problem V. — Why after the rotation has ceased does the
visual field continue to rotate contrariwise?
Problem VI. — Why do tactual and auditory impressions
likewise continue to rotate contrariwise?
While the behavoir of the visual field has since the early
seventies been referred in a general way to the ocular nystagmus
which is normally induced by rotation, the connection between
the two is still susceptible of elucidation : and I am not aware
382 EDWIN B. HOLT.
that any specific explanation has been offered for the tactual
and auditory dizziness. It was with these problems in mind
that I undertook in the fall of 1908 some experiments, on which
the following discussion is partly based. It is also based in part
on some experiments with dizziness previously described by me
('06), and on the literature of the subject.
I. WHAT ORGANS YIELD THE SENSATION OF ROTATION?
On this question a very large number of investigators have
come, although in a very general way, to some appearance of
agreement. In general nearly all assent to the hydrokinetic
theory of Mach, Breuer and (Crum) Brown,1 and I believe that
in the main this theory is established beyond all question while
some of its details will bear further examination. The experi-
mental facts show that the semicircular canals of the ear are
stimulated by circular and rotary motions, and that the utricle
and saccule are (almost certainly) stimulated by motion of trans-
lation. (Some writers dispute the latter point, although, as it
seems to me, on hardly sufficient grounds.) And from this the
conclusion is commonly drawn, that these organs yield directly
the sensations of rotation and of translation. The argument is
— (i) sensations of motion depend on the position of the head;
(2) the only receptor organs situated in the head, which are
stimulated by motion, are the ampullae and sacs of the ear ;
(3) therefore the sensations of motion are sensations from the
ampullae and sacs. Now clearly the two premises warrant the
conclusion that — therefore the sensations of motion result from
stimulation of the ampullas and sacs. But these sensations need
not result directly, as the first conclusion affirms. Nor have I
so far discovered any experiments adduced explicitly to show
that sensations of motion result directly rather than indirectly,
from labyrinthine stimulation, although the former is commonly
assumed. Barany ('06, S. 265, S. 275-6) touches on this point
and declares: "It is an error to say that excitations thereof
[*. £., of the canals and sacs] do not come to consciousness;
strong excitations of them do come to consciousness, either as
theory has been admirably summarized by Nagel ('05, S. 790) and
by Peters ('05).
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 383
such or in combination with [unter Mithilfe d.] the accom-
panying eye-movements " (eye-movement sensations ?). But the
ground of this affirmation is neither here nor elsewhere made
clear. The only other reference to just this point, which I have
found, is in Ewald ('92, S. 133) : " There are not merely special
physiological movements, which take place during and after
rotation, but also these are accompanied by special sensations.
But the relation existing between the two has never been made
clear. It has been taken for granted that the abnormal move-
ment ensues on an abnormal sensation, and is in a way its visi-
ble expression. But I do not believe that the relation is such a
simple one." And in another place (S. 141) Ewald finds the
movements following rotation to be * reflex,' by which he clearly
means that they are produced directly by the labyrinthine exci-
tations without these latter having come to consciousness. There
is, then, ground for debate in this matter.
On the other hand it has been generally granted that the
nystagmic movements of the eyes are closely connected with
the visual dizziness. Thus at the very outset Purkinje attributed
visual dizziness to ' unconscious ' eye-movements carried over
[iibertragen] to outer objects (Aubert, '88, S. 117). Delage,
too, while deeming the labyrinth an organ of sensation in the
strict sense, ascribes features of visual dizziness to movements
of the eyes ('86, p. 610-11). Mach ('oo, S. 98-100), Breuer
('98, S. 499) and Kreidl (ibidem} also attribute visual dizziness
and illusions as to the vertical, to nystagmic and compensatory
eye-movements ; although these writers too believe in direct
labyrinthine sensations. The accepted view should seem to
be, then, although I do not know of an explicit statement to
this effect, that movements of one's own body in rotation and
translation are perceived by means of sensations coming directly
from the ampullae and sacs, while visual illusions of rotation
and many of motion and position are due to reflex (and ' un-
conscious ') eye-movements. Motion of translation of one's
own body would be perceived by means of sensations from the
sacs, of rotation by sensations from the semicircular canals.
Now there stands in somewhat surprising contrast to this
view the experimental fact that both during and after rotation
384 EDWIN B. HOLT.
the sensation of rotation of one's own body is instantly inhibited
if the ocular nystagmus is inhibited. This observation was
first made by Barany ('06, S. 224): "The direction of one's
line of regard is also of influence on the illusory sensation of
rotation. If I have nystagmus horizontalis to the right [i. e.,
the rapid eye jerk toward the right and slow movement toward
the left] , which I can inhibit by looking toward the left, and if
-with my eyes closed I do look toward the left, the sensation of
apparent rotation stops at once — just as the apparent motion
of outer objects had [previously and for the same reason]
stopped. If I look again to the right, the illusory motion com-
mences again. One can observe several such disappearances
and reappearances of the sensation of rotation. A considerable
number of physicians -was able to observe this phenomenon,
which I am the first to describe, and I have had the same reports
from enquiries among patients ."
I have previously reported ('06, p. 72) that the slow phase
of the ocular nystagmus can " not voluntarily be inhibited;
whereas the swift movement is so far voluntary that it can be
inhibited at pleasure. It is possible, that is, to fix the eyes on
that side of the field toward which the slow movements are
directed, but not on any point at the other side of the field."
And this inhibition of the nystagmus always inhibited visual
dizziness ; but I had not at that time noticed that it also inhibits
the apparent rotation of one's own body. Now conflicting
statements are to be found on this point, and the most emphatic
are those of Mach, who states ('74, S. 123) "that a person can
have very marked subjective phenomena of rotation with de-
monstrably fast fixation and no eye-movements. If on the in-
side of the paper box described in the previous communication
[the observer was inside the box, and both rotated] there is
fastened a black cross on a white ground, so that when one
fixates the crossing every deviation of the line of regard is
betrayed by an after-image, then one observes no such after-
image when dizziness starts up. One can fixate and still feel
dizzy. I have also convinced myself by direct observation of
the eyes of a second observer, that the eyes can remain at rest
when the experiment is carried out in the way I have described."
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 385
And twenty-six years later Mach again wrote ('oo, S. 101-2)
to the same effect, although here it is visual dizziness rather
than the sensation of bodily rotation which is not inhibited by
voluntary fixation of the eyes. For Mach both kinds of dizzi-
ness undoubtedly persist.
It chanced that a few weeks before learning about the
observations of Barany, two other observers, Dr. Tail and Mr.
Ricker, and myself noticed (accidentally, for we were then in-
terested in visual dizziness) that voluntarily inhibiting the
nystagmus does away with the sense of bodily rotation not
merely after the rotation has stopped, but during the actual
rotation itself. We were all three able repeatedly to undergo
a lively passive rotation (axis of rotation vertical, head erect and
over axis, eyes closed) of one to two minutes without at any
time having the sensation of bodily rotation.
Such an inhibition of nystagmus throughout the experiment
can be accomplished only in this way : Before the chair is set
in motion (by a second person) the observer directs his fixation
as far as possible in the direction contrary to the coming rota-
tion, and holds his eyes in this position as long as the accelera-
tion remains positive. With the eyes closed, as here, this re-
quires some practice and we found that it could be facilitated
by securing a fairly durable after-image on the retinae immedi-
ately before the experiment. When the acceleration has nearly
reached zero, i. <?., when the speed has become nearly constant
the observer relaxes his fixation and lets his eyes do as they
will. They wander slowly toward the primary position of re-
gard and remain there as long as the acceleration stays at zero.
No motion of the body is felt if the voluntary control of the
eyes is relinquished at the right moment. As soon, now, as the
motion begins to be reduced (the acceleration is negative) the
eyes wander involuntarily to the other side, /. <?., with the actual
rotation, and here they must voluntarily again be fixed until
several seconds after the rotation has actually ceased. The
experiment requires that the observer shall not actively assist to
rotate himself.
If this is successfully accomplished all sensations belonging
to group 3 are inhibited leaving, however, those of groups i
386 EDWIN B. HOLT.
and 2. The « hoops' (group i) continue to rotate contrariwise as
long as the actual movement lasts, but no longer (although they
would continue contrariwise still longer if the nystagmus were
not inhibited), and the centrifugal sensations are distinct in con-
sciousness ; and yet so insignificant are these secondary criteria
of motion as compared with the primary sensations thereof, that
the subject feels himself to be at rest in a somewhat remote
though whirling entourage. This motion of surrounding ob-
jects is far from being adequately realized, as we ascertained
occasionally by opening the eyes during rotation, whereupon
the sudden realization of the rapid movement (backward and
contrary to the actual movement) of visible objects came as a
shock. But even this does not reinstate the sense of one's body
being in motion provided that the nystagmus is still inhibited.
It startles one sometimes into relaxing the hold on one's chair,
so that we found it to be very disagreeable and somewhat risky
to open the eyes while the nystagmus (and therewith the feeling
of rotation) were being suppressed and the rate of rotation was
rapid. The three observers above mentioned were well trained
in the observation of dizziness ; another subject, with less train-
ing and rather easily nauseated by dizziness, underwent the
rotation without a sense of being himself in motion : and two
women, quite untrained in the matter of dizziness, suppressed
the post-rotary feelings of bodily rotation on the first trial, by
inhibiting the post-rotary nystagmus ; and on second trial suc-
ceeded in feeling no motion during as well as after the rotation.
In all the experiments I observed nothing which would lead to
any other conclusion than that voluntary inhibition of the ocular
nystagmus directly inhibits the sensation of the rotation of one's
own body.
These experiments go wholly to confirm the observation of
Barany which was given above. And we must now consider
the precisely contradictory testimony of Mach. Since there is
not the slightest ambiguity in the form of his statements, there
remain three conceivable ways of reconciling them with the
other observations above reported. It is possible that with
Mach and his subjects the nystagmus was not really inhibited,
for not all who try to inhibit it succeed. This is rendered
0A OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 387
plausible by the fact that Mach nowhere speaks of inhibiting
the nystagmus by fixating toward the side contrary to motion,
and in the absence of such a statement one must suppose that
the inhibition of nystagmus was attempted by trying to hold the
eyes voluntarily in the primary position, /'. e., straight forward
(cf. the above quotation from Mach). Now I am personally
quite unable to inhibit the nystagmus, either during or after
rotation, in this way, nor have I seen another person who was
able to do this ; and it is clear from Barany's observations
('06, S. 215-17) that such an attempted fixation straight ahead
might actually augment rather than decrease the nystagmus.
Nor can I attach much importance to the after-image test above
quoted, with the black cross on a white ground, since there is
no vision during the quick phase of the nystagmus, as we shall
see later, and since the slow phase is too slow to leave a percep-
tible after-image streak unless the stimulus (here the ' white
ground ') is very intense.
Yet aside from this Mach says that he examined the eyes of
another observer during the voluntary inhibition. And while
this is very difficult, since Mach himself must also rotate, while
also nystagmic movements sufficient to produce dizziness can
be so minute as to need a reading telescope for their discovery
(Barany, '06, S. 214), I cannot think it probable that Mach
would have convinced himself, as he says, that this observer
had inhibited the nystagmus if such had not really been the
case.
A second possibility would be that Mach and his subjects
mistook centrifugal sensations (group 2) for the true movement
sensations of group 3. (Sensations of group I give no feeling
of bodily motion so long as the nystagmus is inhibited.) This
would be very probable with observers of little experience, but
it can hardly have happened with Mach ; and furthermore he
says that visual dizziness also continues after the inhibition of
nystagmus, and centrifugal sensations could scarcely have been
mistaken for visual dizziness.
The third alternative remains, that we have here a true case
of individual difference. And one must be the more willing to
admit this here since it is not more remarkable than other mani-
388 EDWIN B. HOLT.
fest discrepancies among the observations of careful experi-
menters in this same field. Thus Barany, for instance, gets
post-rotary dizziness of his body so long as his eyes are closed,
but this is supplanted by visual dizziness when he opens his
eyes : whereas Mach, and most other observers, feel with the
eyes open both kinds of post-rotary dizziness at once (Barany,
'06, S. 223). Or again, in post-rotary visual dizziness Barany
sees the visual field oscillate from side to side in both directions
('06, S. 221); whereas Mach, Breuer, Delage and most other
observers see it whirl contrariwise to the preceding actual rota-
tion (Nagel, '05 ; Peters, '05) ; and Helmholtz ('67, S. 603 ; '96,
S. 747) saw it whirl sometimes with and sometimes contrary to,
the direction of the preceding rotation. Still more extraordi-
nary are the different observations as to the localization of a
visual after-image with the eyes closed, during voluntary and
involuntary eye-movements. Indeed there are few branches
of psychology where entirely credible observers more widely
disagree regarding simple matters of fact. And I should desig-
nate this branch as the one comprising the following four
things and their interrelations — motion, muscular contraction,
the voluntary innervation to contraction, and the perception
of movement.
Granted, then, the fact of unusual individual or typical dif-
ferences, it remains to study the several types in and for them-
selves, in the anticipation that in the end some explanation will
be found which will reconcile all discrepancies. I have not so
far seen a subject who, like Mach, experiences bodily and visual
dizziness after he has inhibited his ocular nystagmus, but I shall
look for such persons, and meanwhile return to the discussion
of such cases as Barany and I have met. For some things are
inevitably true of these subjects, whatsoever else may be true
of the members of other types. Now we have seen that for the
subjects who are at present in question, voluntary inhibition of
the nystagmus inhibits the sensation of bodily rotation. Barany
('06, S. 275-6) has sought to interpret this fact: " We have
further seen that inhibition of the nystagmus eliminates the
sensation of rotation. Since the voluntary direction of the re-
gard can scarcely effect an inhibition of impulses coming over
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 389
the vestibular nerve, we seem bound to conclude that the nystag-
mus as such, the involuntary and unconscious movement of the
eyes, is of influence on the production of the rotary sensation ;
perhaps, indeed, that it is the nystagmus center in which the above-
mentioned integration [Verarbeitung] of the vestibular impulses
and the excitations occasioned by changes of the head position,
takes place. I perhaps went too far in an earlier paper, where
I said that inhibition of the rotary sensation through inhibition
of the nystagmus, proves that the nystagmus and not the ves-
tibular impulses cause the rotary sensation. // is sufficient to as-
sume that for the production of rotary sensation such impulses
are necessary as, owing to the nystagmus, are delivered to the
, center involved, and that these form so large a component in the
integration of the subcortical impulses [.?] that the inhibition of
them suffices to prevent the sensation of rotation from being
produced. Nothing but a case of total, bilateral, oculomotor
paralysis of central origin could really decide the point: in
such a case there ought to be no sensation of rotation" I quote
this passage in full (with italics as in the original) because it
bears so explicity on our theme. I understand Barany's con-
ception to be that afferent vestibular impulses and afferent im-
pulses from eye-movements are combined in a subcortical center,
from which they emerge in consciousness as the sensation of
rotation : and that the latter components (which would ordinarily
be called ' sensations of eye-movement ') at least are indispen-
sable to the production of rotary sensations. Presumably he
would hold the vestibular impulses to be indispensable as well.
But there are alternative possibilities. Is it true, as he
declares, that " the voluntary direction of the regard can
scarcely effect an inhibition of impulses coming over the ves-
tibular nerve " ? The voluntary direction of the regard certainly
inhibits whatever impulses those are which produce the rapid
phase of the nystagmic movement, and I see nothing to warrant
a statement on one side or the other as to the relation between
the vestibular and the voluntary impulses. It might be that the
vestibular sensations are the sensations of rotation, but that
these are inhibited when the rapid eye jerks are inhibited. And
yet on the one hand professed ignorance is better than so far-
390 EDWIN B. HOLT.
fetched and mysterious an assumption as this latter ; while on
the other hand, regarding the former assumption, we must
remember the many cases in which one's body is felt to move,
with sensations distinctly like those of group 3, in which neither
the semicircular canals nor the sacs can be supposed to be stimu-
lated. A person who stands on a bridge and watches the water
flow beneath, from time to time feels himself moving contrary
to the flow of the water (Mach, 'oo, S. 104). Helmholtz ('96,
S. 763-4) mentions that when the dome of an astronomical
observatory is turned about, a person standing beneath it is apt
to feel the floor and himself rotating contrariwise. And there
are many other such illusions of bodily translation or rotation,
not distinguishable from the sensations of group 3, in all of
which the stimulus is purely visual and there are no afferent
vestibular impulses. These considerations, I believe, quite
shut out the vestibular impulses from being essential to the sen-
sation of motion of one's own body.
We have next to examine Barany's second and indispensable
component — the afferent impulses occasioned by the nystagmic
movements. Before we can suppose such impulses to be
essential, or even in any wise contributory to the perception of
motion, we must answer satisfactorily the arguments so cogently,
and one might almost say savagely, stated by Hering ('61, S.
30-32) : They are, he says, " proof enough that only the dis-
placement of retinal images, and not sensations of tensions in
the muscles, acquaint me with changes in the position of my
eyes." In short, Hering allows no share at all to eye-muscle
sensations in the perception of eye-movement ; and he is disin-
clined to allow even their existence. Is it, then, conceivable
that they afford sensations of movements of the whole body?
We must also bear in mind that the famous discussion between
Plateau, Oppel, Helmholtz, Dvorak and others did not confirm
the belief in the existence of eye-muscle sensations. We have
also had recently, from Dodge ('04 and '07), Judd ('05) and
other investigators in the Yale Laboratory, fresh evidence that
sensations of eye-movement play little or no part in the percep-
ton of space. Personally I am unable at present to dispense
with ' eye-movement sensations ' as a part of my psychological
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 39 1
furniture, and yet in the present case I must admit that several
facts seem to exclude them from assuming any importance. It
is, apparently, the efferent motor impulses to the eyes rather
than afferent impulses yielded by eye-movements that have
taken place, that most closely parallel, or as some persons might
say, aret the sensations of bodily movement.
These facts are, firstly, that of the two phases exhibited by
the nystagmus, the rapid and the slow, one phase but not the
other seems to cause sensations of bodily movement. This is
the rapid phase. Under positive acceleration the rapid eye-
jerk is with the rotation, and in this same direction the body is
felt to turn ; and as soon as the acceleration becomes negative
the rapid jerk takes place contrary to rotation, and the body is
felt to reverse its motion although it is actually rotating in the
same direction. At high but uniform speed, of course, there is
no nystagmus and likewise no sensation of one's body being in
motion. As Barany has said ('06, S. 225), " the apparent rota-
tion of one's own body is always in the same direction as the
rapid nystagmic movement" Now on the sensory side there is
nothing, so far as we know at present, to distinguish these
movements so sharply from each other ; for of course the cir-
cumstance that one is fast and the other slow would not account
for one of them being * sensed ' and the other not. But on the
efferent side there is a prime distinction — the motor impulses
to the rapid movement can be voluntarily inhibited, while those
to the slow cannot be checked (Holt, '06, p. 72). The voluntary
attempt to inhibit them, which has to be made by trying to fix
the regard in a direction wholly or partly opposed to the direc-
tion of the slow movement, results only in increasing the nys-
tagmus (Barany, '06, S. 215-17). (This is why Mach is trying
to fixate a point straight in front, is unusually fortunate if he
succeeded in inhibiting the nystagmus.) Now certainly the
rapid movement cannot be called a voluntary movement, since
the whole nystagmus arises involuntarily ; but since the rapid
phase is amenable to voluntary inhibition, it may properly be
called semi-voluntary. Now this circumstance that the rapid
phase which alone counts toward the sensation of bodily move-
ment is more nearly related to voluntary effort than the other
392 EDWIN B. HOLT.
phase, is directly in line with those facts already referred to,
which Hering so emphasized ('61, S. 30). " A position of the
eyes which I have not voluntarily induced, which therefore I
did not already know pretty exactly before it took place, and
even more a movement which takes place without my special
intention — I am totally unable to estimate. . . . [S. 31] If
I have voluntarily brought about a position of the eyes, then of
course I know beforehand the direction and approximate extent
of movement [involved] , since otherwise I should not have been
able to will just this movement ; and both the direction and ap-
proximately the amount of force which is necessary for a given
movement, are decided [bestimmt] by the will." This is com-
ing, perhaps, very close to ' innervation feelings.' The empiri-
cal data to which Hering refers, may be summarized as the
general lack of relation between the position of the eyes and the
subjective localization of optical impressions. The eye-move-
ment sensations, supposing them to exist, in many cases so in-
adequately register the eye-movements that a false localization
is assigned to the objective sources of visual data. An example
will sufficiently illustrate this general phenomenon.
In a previous paper ('06, p. 72) I observed, "it is well
known that after-images move with every involuntary eye-
movement." Here I relied chiefly on the introspection during
dizziness (with eyelids closed) of myself and four other subjects
(ibid., p. 70-1), on some observations of my own on the vision
of after-images during « pursuit movements ' (Dodge, '03), and I
think on some printed statements which, however, I can no
longer identify. My own observations were, and on retrial
still are, unequivocal. But I have since discovered that other
observers equally ' well know ' that for them after-images do
not move with involuntary eye-movements : on this point both
Hering ('61, S. 30-31) and Barany ('06, S. 221-2) are perfectly
explicit, and several other authors imply the same view. On
the other hand Hering's account distinctly implies that after-
images do move with voluntary eye-movements even when the
eyelids are closed. Barany ('06, S. 222) gives this as Hering's
view and confirms it himself (S. 221), Exner ('90, S. 50) and
A. Nagel ('71, S. 256) affirm the very same. Whereas
OA OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 393
Purkinje (Aubert, '88, S. 118) recounts and apparently confirms
an experiment of Charles Bell's in which •« a blindingly bright
image left on the eye after gazing on a shining object, always
appears at rest during eye-movements executed in total dark-
ness, and starts into motion only when the eyes are open and
the [after-] image can be compared with external objects which
are at rest." Now the observations in question are singularly
easy to make, even for a novice, and I believe that such extra-
ordinary discrepancies again rest on true differences between
observers. (A colleague of long experience in the study of
vision tells me that he gets both of the last-mentioned phenom-
ena, but more commonly the latter of these.) Now these dis-
crepancies, if we accept them, prove that there is no direct re-
lation between eye-movements and the localization of after-
images, and such a thing is scarcely possible if visual data in
general are localized by means of eye-movement sensations.
But the main differentia, of which we know, between the above
cases lies in the manner of innervation — whether this is vol-
untary, semi-voluntary, or involuntary : the first alone affecting
the localization of after-images for Hering and Barany. And
with this view Mach ('oo, S. 93-105) also concurs. It is true
that this does not remove all disagreement, for I find on myself
and four subjects, that localization of after-images shifts with
both phases (semi-voluntary and voluntary) of labyrinthine
nystagmus, while Hering and Barany deny this ; and Purkinje
and Bell find that even voluntary innervation does not affect the
localization of after-images. Yet it is, to my mind, simpler to
suppose that these divergencies rest on peculiarities of innerva-
tion than of eye-movement sensation. And in this Barany,
even more emphatically Hering, and also Mach would agree.
One can of course assume the inhibition, under given cir-
cumstances, of the supposed eye-movement sensations and
hence their failure to govern localization ; but there is nothing
to inhibit them in our examples above save the several modes
of innervation : so that again the explanation of the phenomenon
would lie in peculiarities of innervation. Furthermore the ob-
servation of Mach, already described, that the feeling of both
bodily and visual dizziness (rotary localization) can persist when
394 EDWIN B. HOLT.
there are no nystagmic movements could not be explained in
terms of sensation of these non-occurring movements. And if
recourse is then had to reproduced sensations of eye-movement,
it again appears that only the labyrinthine or voluntary inner-
vations could be effecting such reproduction. The fact that
Lotze, Miinsterberg and others have declared 'innervation feel-
ings ' to be reproduced sensations of movement does not affect
the present case for the issue here is between afferent and
efferent process, — whether incoming or outgoing impulses are
more nearly parallel to feelings of motion. To resort, then, to
^produced kinsesthetic sensations is to yield the point at once
and to grant that it is outgoing impulses and not impulses com-
ing in from the eye-movements that govern the consciousness
of movement. And while in Mach's experiment his feeling of
bodily and visual dizziness cannot have come from sensations
of eye-movement, since he says that the eyes were not moving,
it may well have come from innervations to eye-movement,
innervations which became inhibited at some level lower than
their point of origin. It is worth noting that this view, and so
far as I know no other view, accounts for the familiar patho-
logical cases in which the innervation to contract a muscle
which is paralyzed, produces the feeling of the intended move-
ment although the muscle is not actually contracted by the
innervation.
If now visual localization is not explicable in terms of eye-
movement sensations, the localization of one's body is of course
even less so. And thus this latter depends neither on afferent
impulses from the eye-balls nor, as we saw before, on afferent
impulses from the labyrinth ; and yet the voluntary inhibition
of eye nystagmus inhibits the feeling of movement (changing
localization) of one's body. Only one conclusion remains —
the voluntary innervation to inhibit the nystagmus, which is
really directed as we have seen to inhibiting the rapid phase of
the nystagmus, suppresses the feeling of bodily motion by in-
hibiting the (semi-voluntary) innervation of that rapid phase.
And it will be recalled that the feeling of motion of one's own
body is always in the same direction as the rapid phase. Hence
it is the semi-voluntary innervation to the rapid nystagmic phase
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 395
which is the process most closely parallel to the feeling of
bodily rotation. Our first problem was: " What organs yield
the sensation of rotation?" And the answer -would be that this
is not a sensation in the ordinary meaning of that word, but
that the process most nearly -parallel to the feeling of rotation
is one kind of innervation -process. And I believe that this
proposition applies to more than rotation, applies at least to all
feelings of motion of one's body that are supposed to be given
by the semicircular canals.
This result is nearly in line with a view long supported by
Mach ('oo, S. 95), who says: "The will to execute move-
ments of regard [Blickbewegungen] or the innervation (?) to
these, is the very sensation of space itself." The question-mark
after the word ' innervation ' is presumably out of deference to
those who oppose * innervation feelings.' I should not care to
say innervations are sensations of space nor, for reasons too
general to be discussed here, that innervations are the feelings
of bodily movement. The phrasing as italicized above is, I
think, a somewhat securer statement. But it is clear that our
argument, based in several places on observations at variance
with those of Mach, comes out to a position not so far removed
from his.
It is true that I have not explained all the conflicting obser-
vations given above, nor have I, by-the-way, begun to exhaust
the anomalies that stand on record in this field. But I believe
that the cases which we have considered, if they are facts and
not errors of observation on the part of one person or another,
necessitate the conclusion to which we have arrived. And what-
soever conclusion other facts lead to, it will not be contradictory
to this of ours. We have found empirical evidence of three
grades of innervation — voluntary, semi-voluntary, and involun-
tary — and that these exert a different influence over the inhibi-
tion of the feeling of movement. It is therefore probable that
different grades of innervation are of different value in pro-
ducing the feeling of movement. The three grades of innerva-
tion doubtless emerge at higher and lower neural levels ; but
the neural levels are many and hence the grades of innervation
may be many. On this, I. think, we may base a reasonable
396 EDWIN B. HOLT.
hope of explaining the so-far complicated and seemingly con-
flicting mass of observations.
The further problems raised in the first part of this paper
must be discussed in a sequel, and it here remains to say only
this : The conclusion that innervations of one kind or another
are the process most nearly parallel to feelings of bodily motion,
does not, of course, imply that such efferent impulses are
created from nothing, as say on the ' psychic plane.' The
nervous energy that constitutes these innervations is released by
impulses coming more or less immediately from the periphery.
For the physiological unit of the nervous system is the reflex
arc. And the issue raised by our empirical data between
afferent (from the eye-muscles or orbit) and efferent (to the same)
is, I apprehend, more precisely stated as follows. Is the nervous
process which runs parallel to the consciousness of the rotation
or translation of one's body, one in which the afferent or sen-
sory impulses come wholly or mainly from eye-muscles (or
orbit), and diverge in the central nervous system, passing out as
diffuse innervations to various and so far unidentified members ;
or is the process one in which the afferent impulses come from
various and so far • unidentified members, and converge in the
central nervous system, passing out as a unified and definite
innervation to eye-movement? The latter alternative is the con-
clusion that we have reached.
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
ABELS, H.
'06. Ueber Nachempfindungen im Gebiete des kinasthetischen tmd stati-
schen Sinnes. Zeitschr.f. Psych., 43, 1906, S. 268-289 ; S. 374-422.
'07. 1st der ' Nachschwindel ' im Endorgan oder nerves bedingt ? Ibid.,
45, 1907, S. 85-91.
AUBERT, H.
'88. Physiologische Studien iiber die Orientierung. Tubingen, 1888.
BARANY, R.
'06. Untersuchungen iiber den vom Vestibularapparat des Ohres reflekto-
risch ausgelosten rhythmischen Nystagmus und seine Begleiterschei-
nungen, Monatsschr.f. Ohrenheilk., 40, 1906, S. 193-297.
BREUBR, J.
'07. Bemerkungen zu Dr. Hans Abels Abhandlung, etc. Zeitschr. f.
Psych., 45, 1907, S. 78-84.
'90. Ueber die Function der Otolithen-Apparate. Pfluger's Archiv f. d.
ges. Physiol., 48, 1890, S. 195-306.
ON OCULAR NYSTAGMUS. 397
BROWN, A. CRUM.
'95. The Relation between the Movements of the Eyes and the Move-
ments of the Head. Robert Boyle Lecture, London, 1895.
DBLAGKS, Y.
'86. fctudes experimentalcs sur les illusions statiques et dynamiques de
direction, etc. Archives de Zool. exp. et generate, 2 i£me Se"rie, 4,
1886, pp. 535-624.
DODGE, R.
'03. Five Types of Eye Movement, etc. Amer.Jour. of Physiol., 8, 1903,
pp. 307-29.
'04. Participation of the Eye Movements in the Visual Perception of Mo-
tion. Psych. Rev.> 2, 1904, p. i.
'07. An Experimental Study of Visual Fixation. Studies fr. the Psych.
Lab. of Wcsleyan Univ., I, 1907, pp. 1-95.
EWALD, J. R.
'92. Physiologische Untersuchungen liber das Endorgan des Nervus Oc-
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EXNER, S.
'90. Das Verschwinden der Nachbilder be! Augenbewegungen. Zeitschr.
f. Psych., i, 1890, S. 47-5L
HKLMHOVTZ, H.
'67. Handbuch der Physiologischen Optik. Leipzig, 1867.
'96. Handbuch der Physiologischen Optik. Hamburg und Leipzig, 1896.
HERING, E.
'61. Beitrage zur Physiologic. Leipzig, 1861.
HOLT, E. B.
'03. Eye-Movement and Central Anaesthesia. Harvard Psych. Studies,
i. 1903, PP. 3-45-
'06. Eye-Movements during Dizziness. Ibid., 2, 1906, pp. 57-66.
'06. Vision during Dizziness. Ibid., pp. 67-73.
JUDD, C. H.
'05. Movement and Consciousness. Yale Psych. Studies, New Series, i,
i905i PP- 199-226.
MACH, E.
'73. Physikalische Versuche iiber den Gleicbgewichtssinn des Menschen.
Sitzungsber d. kais. Akad. d. Wiss. Wien, math.-naturw. Cl., 68, 3te
Abth., 1873, S. 124-140
'74, Versuche iiber den Gleichgewichtssinn. Ibid., 69, 2te Abth., 1874,
S. 121-135
'oo. Analyse der Empfindungen. 2te Aufl., Jena, 1900.
MiJNSTERBKRG, H., and PiERCE, A. H.
'94. The Localization of Sound. Psych. Rev., i, 1894, pp. 461-476.
NAGBL, W.
'05. Die Lage-, Bewegungs- und Widerstandsempfindungen. Handb. d.
Physiol. d. Menschen. Braunschweig, 2, 1905, S. 734-806.
PETERS, W.
'05. Die Bewegungs- und Lageempfindungen. Archiv f. d. ges. Psych. t
5, 1905, S. 42-76.
PIERCE, A. H.
See Miinsterberg, H.
398 ED WIN B. HOLT.
PURKINJE.
'25. Viertes Bulletin d. naturw. Sektion d. schles. Gesellsch. f. vaterl.
Kultur, 1825.
•26. Zehntes ditto, 1826.
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vaterl. Kultur, 1826. (The above three Bulletins are reprinted by
Aubert, '88.)
SCHAFER, K.
'87. Ueber die Wahrnehmung eigener passiver Bewegungen durch den
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'06. The Integrative Action of the Nervous System. New York, 1906.
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'02. Grundziige der physiologischen Psychologic. 5te AufL, I^eipzig
1902-3.
MENTAL DIAGNOSIS BY THE ASSOCIATION
REACTION METHOD.
BY FREDERICK G. HENKE AND MILTON W. EDDY,
From the Psychological Laboratory of Northwestern University.
The object of this series of experiments was to verify the
validity of the association reaction method in a number of dis-
similar experiments conducted with normal subjects. The first
two experiments were so planned that they could be carried out
before a psychology class within an hour's time. The entire
series was so arranged that we gradually restricted any advan-
tage that the operator had and gave the subjects greater oppor-
tunity to conceal their relations to the experiments. This was
most successfully achieved in the third experiment which we
describe. A further object of the first two experiments was to
learn what mental diagnosis a class would be led to make from
observations during the progress of the experiment, the point
of view being to estimate the feasibility of using this method in
the presence of a jury. We also wished to discover, if possible,
whether knowledge on the part of the subject of the methods
used would invalidate the results, as has been asserted.
The instruments used were a chronoscope, measuring time
in one-hundredths of a second, a lip-key used by the operator
to start a pendulum on the chronoscope at the time of giving the
stimulus word, and a mouthpiece into which the subject spoke
the associated words, thereby releasing a circuit-breaker, which
records on the chronoscope the time elapsing between the giving
of the stimulus word and the reaction word.
EXPERIMENT I.
Mr. H. and Mr. O. acted as subjects, Mr. H. being a
junior and Mr. O. a graduate student. In one corner of a
dark-room under a gas-jet stood a child's desk on which were
placed Joseph Jastrow's book The Subconscious^ a bottle of red
ink, pen and paper, and a child's Christmas story book. A
hammer was tied to the gas fixture. On a table in another
399
400 F. G. HENKE AND M. W. EDDY,
corner of the room were an old dusty crushed derby, and a few
other things the nature of which will appear in the progress of
the experiment. Mr. S. assisted by handing the instructions to
Mr. H. and Mr. O. and seeing that they were fulfilled. One
of the men was not to enter the room, the other was to follow
out the typewritten directions, which were as follows :
"i. Sit down at the desk. Observe that it is a child's desk.
Take up the child's book which is at your right on the desk and
read it. Is the poem familiar to you? Are you able to get a
mental image of Santa Claus? (See front cover.)"
"2. Pen, paper and ink are on the desk in front of you.
Write the first page of ' The Night Before Christmas,' using
the material at hand."
"3. Pick up the book at your left and take note of the fol-
lowing : (i) Its author. (2) The title. Write the name of the
author and the title three times with the red ink."
"4. Untie the hammer which is tied to the gas fixture, and
knock on the desk with it three times moderately hard. Then
await further orders." 1
"5. The building in which you now are is fifty years old.
Owing to its age and the fact that it is constructed entirely of
wood, there is the greatest danger of fire at any time. In fact
the danger is considered so great that the rooms on this fourth
story have been abandoned. The building and its contents are
heavily insured. The university does not believe it wise to
assume any risk. A fire might break out just now. There is
a carpenter shop in the basement with wood and oil. What
would you do in event of fire? Spend the next few minutes
until the clock strikes in devising a plan of escape, if access to
the stairs were shut off because of fire. When the bell strikes
turn to No. 6."
" 6. Back of you there is a door partly open and near you
there is a rope. This rope is long enough to reach the fifty
feet to the ground. Take up this rope and follow it hand over
hand for fifty feet from the door,2 then come back the same
way and leave the room."
1 At this juncture the assistant came into the room with an interval clock
set to ring in seven minutes and told him to proceed with No. 5.
2 This rope led fifty feet back into a dark attic.
MENTAL DIAGNOSIS BY REACTION METHOD.
401
" Please do not talk with anybody about the room or what
you did in it."
These instructions having been carried out, the assistant
brought one of the men into the lecture room before the class
and we proceeded to take the associated reactions, the results
being as follows :
TABLE I.
RESULTS OF EXPERIMENT I.
No. of
Word.
Stimulus Word.
Results for Mr. H— .
Results for Mr. O— .
Association
Word.
Association
Time.
Association
Word.
Association
Time.
I
Tree.
Tree.
1.36
2
Wood.
Log.
1.50
Tree.
.87
3
Sun.
Boy.
1.30
4
Sky.
Air.
1.82
Story.
5
Father.
Mother.
1. 80
6
To speak.
Radiator.
3-25
7
Grass.
Lawn.
.90
Brown.
.90
8
Sweet
Sugar.
•97
Bitter.
1.30
9
Ten.
Twenty.
1-45
Men.
1.67
10
Blue.
Sky. '
1.20
Seat
1.70
II
Chair.
Desk.
i-37
12
Girl.
Boy.
1. 10
Boy.
l.6o
13
Supply.
Breakfast
1.47
Tonight.
2.40
14
To fly.
Bird.
1.07
Bird.
I'll
15*
Christmas.
New Year.
1.70
Snow.
1.67
16*
Interval.
Minute.
1.67
One Minute.
3-25
17*
Skull.
Skeleton.
i-52
Neandertal.
3-70
18*
Sleepy.
Man.
1. 00
Boy.
2.40
19*
Joseph.
Boy.
I.OO
Egypt.
3-15
20*
Ink.
Black.
1.40
Black.
1.05
21*
Creature.
Man.
1.80
Mouse.
1.70
22*
Black.
Ink.
•85
Night
2.85
23*
Hammer.
Anvil.
1.60
Nail.
2-75
24*
Old College.
Building.
1.40
25*
Fourth Story.
Building.
2.65
Fifth.
2-55
26*
Rope.
Ground.
4.00
27*
Fire.
Sherman Ave.
2.05
Engine.
1.80
28*
Danger.
Fire.
1. 80
Escape.
3-70
29*
Minutes.
Hours.
1-55
Fire.
2.50
30*
Night
Day.
•9°
Dark.
3-07
31*
Before.
After.
1.27
Fisk.
3-60
32*
To write.
Speak.
3-37
33*
Conceal.
Plain.
i-23
Knowledge.
2.30
34*
Hat.
Coat.
1.03
Black.
2.40
35*
Dread.
Fear.
1-55
36*
Conceal.
Knowledge.
2.10
37*
Subconscious.
Conscious.
I.IO
Stale.
1. 80
38*
Ink.
Black.
1.30
Black.
1.40
In this table the significant stimulus words are marked with
an asterisk, fourteen words having been first introduced to gain
402
f. G. HENKE AND M. W. EDDY.
the normal association time. Mr. H. was first tested and we
soon came to the conclusion that he had not been in the room ;
this was further substantiated when Mr. O. was brought before
the class and the length of his association time and the associa-
tions to the significant words were noted. At the conclusion
of the experiment, before announcing the results to the class,
every member was requested to indicate on a slip of paper
which one of the two men had been in the room. The entire
class, thirty-eight in all, was unanimous in its judgment that
Mr. O. had been in the room. Only one of the thirty-eight
thought that Mr. H. had also been in the room. We believe
that the class drew its conclusions partly from the appearance
of emotion in Mr. O., as well as from the manifestly delayed
association time, when some of the significant words were given
and by the nature of the associations themselves.
Subjoined will be found a table of the quantitative results
of the experiments.
TABLE II.
QUANTITATIVE RESULTS OF EXPERIMENT I.
Results for Mr. H— .
Results for Mr. O— .
Irrelevant
Significant
Irrelevant
Significant
Words.
Words.
Words.
Words.
Mean.
I-25
1.62
1.77
2-54
Mean Variation.
.29
.26
•56
•63
Difference in Means.
+ .37
+ .77
**"»»-{ t2S£
•85
1.82
.90
3-37
.87
3-25
1.05
4.0O
Maximum Range.
2.52
3.13
The mean variation of Mr. H. on the irrelevant words was
more than on the significant. While in the case of Mr. O. the
mean variation for the irrelevant words was less than for the
significant words, this being precisely what we expected.
We may sum up the grounds for our conclusion that Mr. O.
had been in the room and had attempted to conceal as follows :
(i) The association time for Mr. H. was not sufficiently length-
ened in the case of the significant words to indicate a voluntary
change of association. Mr. O.'s associations were manifestly
delayed in the case of some of the significant words. Take,
for instance, the two words night and before. These are from
MENTAL DIAGNOSIS BY REACTION METHOD. 403
the poem, ''Twasthe Night before Christmas.' Night suggested
the word dark^ which was long in coming, possibly on account
of the highly suggestible words fire, danger and minute just
preceding, and when the stimulus word before^ which naturally
suggested Christmas > was given, Mr. O. changed this to fisk>
thereby lengthening the time to 3.60 seconds. The same situ-
ation becomes apparent in the case of other significant words
which can easily be selected by the reader. (2) Mr. O. gave
a number of very significant associations in response to certain
stimulus words. This, taken in connection with the highly de-
layed reactions, forms another basis for our conclusions. The
word rope brought up the association ground in 4.00 seconds.
An examination of the typewritten directions of this experiment
under Number 6 where the sentence occurs, "This rope is
long enough to reach 50 feet to the ground," will show just why
this word was selected. (3) As we have already shown, Mr.
O-'s mean variation for the significant words was considerably
higher than for the irrelevant words, while the reverse was the
case with Mr. H.
EXPERIMENT II.
In Experiment two, our object was three-fold : First, to dis-
cover which one of three subjects had performed a series of acts
and was trying to conceal his relation to them ; second, which one
had performed the acts, and did not try to conceal ; and third,
which one knew nothing about them. Mr. J., Mr. S. and Mr.
U. acted as subjects. We used the same room and the same
directions as in Experiment Number I. Mr. W. was assistant
and handed the subjects who were entirely ignorant of the
nature of the experiment, the typewritten directions. When
the subjects had fulfilled their parts, they returned to the lecture
room one at a time and their associations were taken as is indi-
cated in the following table :
The reader will readily see that this experiment was much
more involved than the previous one, thereby increasing the
difficulty of accurate diagnosis. The significant words caused
a manifest delay in the association reaction time of Mr. S.
This was not the case with Mr. U., while the slight difference
404
F. G. HENKE AND M. W. EDDY.
TABLE III.
RESUI/TS OF EXPERIMENT n.
!
•3
6
%
Stimulus
Word.
Results for Mr. J.
Results for Mr. S.
Results for Mr. U.
Association
Word.
Association
Time.
Association
Word.
Association
Time.
Association
Word.
Association
Time.
I
Father.
Mother.
.92
Mother.
I-5I
Papa.
1.02
2
To speak
To say.
1.42
To talk.
To say..
1.05
3
Grass.
Dog.
Green.
2.25
Green .
1. 60
4
Sweet.
Sour.
•85
Sugar.
1.61
Sour.
1.23
5
Ten.
Twelve.
1.32
Twenty.
i. 80
Twenty.
•77
6
Blue.
Black.
•97
Green.
1. 80
Green.
i-37
7
Chair.
Table.
•93
Black.
2.OO
Arm chair.
2-95
8
Girl.
Boy.
.82
Boy.
1.70
Light.
1.16
9
Supper.
Dinner.
.81
Dinner.
1.81
Dinner.
•75
10
To fly.
To see.
1.02
Bind.
2.15
To sail.
• 85
n*
Christmas.
Thanksgiving.
i-35
Christmas Tree.
2.00
New Year.
1.02
12*
Interval.
Space.
1.56
Time.
2-55
Between.
I.I4
13*
Skull.
Head.
i-37
White.
2.0O
Bone.
•97
14*
Sleepy.
Sink.
i. 08
Bed.
2.10
Tired.
.90
IS*
Joseph.
James.
1.28
Jacob.
2-45
16*
Ink.
Black.
i-39
Black.
Ink.
i-45
17*
Creature.
Man.
1.70
Bug.
2.OO
Thing.
1. 10
18*
Black.
Blue.
i. 06
White.
1.20
White.
1. 12
19*
Hammer.
Nail.
1.65
Black.
1.70
Nail.
1-25
20*
Old College.
Y. M. C. A.
i. 80
University Hall.
2.76
New College.
1.15
21*
Fourth Story.
Fourth Floor.
1. 12
« if
3-8o
Third Story.
I. II
22*
Rope.
String.
•97
White Cord Line.
I.I7
Cord.
1.16
23*
Fire.
Water.
1.32
Match.
1.67
Burn.
1. 10
24*
Danger.
Signal.
1. 21
River.
2-37
Tired.
.80
25*
Minutes.
Seconds.
.88
Sixty.
I.I9
Seconds.
i-37
26*
Night.
Day.
.84
Black.
I-I3
Rain.
1.38
2"7*
Before.
After.
.78
After.
1.47
After.
1.14
28*
To write.
To sing.
•79
Paper.
2.OO
To left.
.70
29*
Conceal.
Hide.
I.IO
Weapon.
2.25
Hide.
i. 80
30*
Hat.
Cage.
1.50
Black.
i-57
Cob-web.
.90
3i*
Dread.
Hate.
.89
Fear.
2.25
Tired
•99
32*
Conceal.
Hid.
1.17
Weapon.
1.29
Hide.
.96
33*
Jastrow.
Anything.
1-75
James.
2.70
Jastrow.
2.OO
34*
Subconscious.
111.
Psychology.
2.25
Untie.
2.25
35*
Ink.
Black.
Black.
1.04
Red.
*The significant words are indicated by an asterisk.
in time of Mr. J. could easily be accounted for on account of
his unfamiliarity with the strange words. Further the reaction
time of Mr. S. is on the whole greater than for Mr. J. or Mr.
U., and finally, the variability in the reaction time of the sig-
nificant words is greater for Mr. S. than for the other two. If-
we examine the association words of Mr. U. we find two very
significant associations. The word hat brought up the word
cobweb. Why? Was it not because the old crushed hat in the
MENTAL DIAGNOSIS BY REACTION METHOD.
4<>5
room was dusty and covered with cobwebs? The word ink
brought the response red, probably because the ink on the desk
was red. When the word Jastrow was given to Mr. J. he gave
the associated word anything, and the tone in which it was said
indicated that he was unfamiliar with the word.
Before giving our decision to the class, each member was
requested to write on a slip of paper what he believed to be the
relation of each of the subjects to the experiment. Eight mem-
bers were unanimous in their belief that Mr. U. had been in
the room and was not trying to conceal it. Six thought Mr. S.
had been in the room and was trying to conceal it, and six that
Mr. J. had not been in the room.
Our conclusions were as follows : (i) Mr. J. had not been
in the room ; (2) Mr. S. had been in the room and tried hard to
conceal it ; and (3) Mr. U. performed the series of acts and did
not try to conceal it. We were correct in our judgment.
Below are given the quantitative results of Experiment II. ; in
this the mean variation in the significant words stands out very
prominently in the case of Mr. S.
TABLE IV.
QUANTITATIVE RESULTS OF EXPERIMENT II.
Results for Mr. J.
Results for Mr. S.
Results for Mr. U.
Irrelevant
Words.
Significant
Words.
Irrelevant
Words.
Significant
Words.
Irrelevant
Words.
Significant
Worda.
Mean.
1. 01
1.24
1.85
1-95
1.23
1. 21
Mean Variation.
.16+
.26+
•19+
•47+
.41
.26-r
Difference in Means.
+0.23
+0.10
+0.02
p. f Short.
.81
•78
1.61
1.04
•75
.70
I Long.
1.42
1.80
2.25
3.8o
2.95
2.25
Maximum Range.
1.02
2.76
2.25
EXPERIMENT III.
Having been successful in the previous enumerated trials
and others, we determined to further restrict any advantage
which the experimenters might have over the subject. Two men,
Mr. S. and Mr. O., both of whom had knowledge as to the
nature of the association reaction method, were selected, and
they were given the following options : (i) both might perform
the series of acts according to instructions ; (2) either one could
406 F. G. HENKE AND M. W. EDDY.
perform them ; (3) neither need necessarily perform them ; (4)
after having chosen what they would do they were allowed to
conceal, or not to conceal, their individual relation to the
experiment.
In a drawer of a table in the psychological laboratory, the
following things were placed ; three bottles of ink (carmine,
green and violet), two pieces of glass (red and blue), a one-
pound iron weight, a handkerchief scented with asafoetida, a
copy of The Psychology of Advertising, by Walter D. Scott,
and The Native Tribes of Central Australia, by Spencer and
Gillen.
The written instructions were as follows :
" i. Take the book, The Psychology of Advertising. Who
is the author? Turn to page 44. Read the advertisement on
that page carefully."
" 2. There are three bottles of ink in the drawer. Notice
carefully the color. Are the bottles full or empty?"
"3. Take the book by Spencer and Gillen, The Native
Tribes of Central Australia" This is a large book. How many
pages has it? Turn to page 33 and notice the old man. Also
turn to page 47.
Is not she a winsome lass? It is too bad that she has lost
one tooth !"
Mr. S. was first examined and in order to increase the prob-
ability that our conclusions were correct the list of words was
given a second time. Mr. O. was then examined in the same
way. The results are indicated in Table V.
A comparison of Mr. O.'s figures in Table V. with those of
Table I. shows that, while his figures are somewhat higher than
those of some other normal subjects, yet the difference between
the means in Experiment III. is much less than in the first ex-
periment, in which he tried to conceal. Moreover, the mean
variation both for the irrelevant and significant words is in
general much lower than in the previous experiment. It will
also be seen by a comparison of the quantitative results of these
experiments that his maximum range is much higher in the first
than in the last. The variability, however, of his reactions was
not a sufficient basis for concluding that he was trying to con-
MENTAL DIAGNOSIS BY REACTION METHOD. 407
TABLE V.
RESULTS OF EXPERIMENT III.
^l
si
Stimulus
Word.
Result* for Mr. 8.
Results for Mr. O.
Association
Word
(ist Time).
K v^,
JW
Association
Word
(ad Time).
•"a-
11?
Association
Word
(istTime).
.°s~
ill
<HC
Association
Word
(ad Time).
?2~
Jfe
I
House.
You.
.65
Dinner.
•50
Barn.
1.60
Barn.
3-5°
a
*Man.
Old.
•99
Five.
•45
Woman.
i. 60
Woman.
•70
3
Boy.
Bugs.
.70
You.
•85
Girl.
1.40
Girl.
•32
4
Weber.
This.
1.19
Heavy.
•53
Cold.
1. 10
Cold.
.60
5
Law.
This.
1.41
Long.
•56
School.
2-95
School.
.80
6
Hypnotism.
This.
1.65
You.
1.08
Eddy.
2-75
Eddy.
.70
7
*Girl.
Yes.
1.25
Outside.
•87
Barn.
1.50
8
University.
North-
1. 12
Caught.
•75
Ground.
2.83
Ground.
1.70
western.
9
April.
May.
I.I4
North-
.90
Second.
i. 80
Second.
western.
10
*Ink.
Yes.
I.4O
Late.
.60
Black.
1.54
Black.
1.60
it
*Book.
Black.
1.62
Old.
•25
Black.
2-75
Black.
1.24
12
* Psychology.
Thorn-
1.65
This.
1. 12
Class.
1.80
Class.
2.70
dike.
13
* Woman.
Old.
•77
Cold.
•76
Man.
1.80
Man.
1.60
M
* Hairy.
Hairy.
1-37
Forget.
•83
Man.
i. 80
15
* Winsome.
No.
i-43
Metric.
•56
Man.
2.65
Man.
16
External.
Yes.
1.50
Lass.
.90
Skin.
2.60
Skin.
1.17
17
* Green.
Fisk.
.60
Blue.
I. CO
Grass.
i. 80
Grass.
1.42
IS
* Violet.
Yes.
r-47
Any.
I. CO
Pansy.
1.70
Pansy.
1.66
19
*Red.
Carmine.
.87
Carmine.
•95
Black.
1.70
Black.
i. 60
20
* Odor.
Carmine.
•79
Cater-
1. 00
Stink.
2.25
Stink.
1.50
pillar.
21
Library.
Russell.
.72
Coxcomb.
.76
Lunt.
2.85
Lunt.
1.50
22
* Central.
This.
•83
Switch.
•45
Street.
Street.
1.27
23
* Native.
This.
.80
You.
1. 10
Africa.
1.70
Africa.
1.62
24
*Man.
Nice.
•97
Old.
•77
Woman.
1.50
25
*Old.
Yes.
i. 20
Woman.
.80
Man.
1.80
Man.
1.70
26
*Skin.
Black.
.90
Drawer.
•52
Black.
i-33
Man.
1.80
27
Six
Yes.
1.07
1.15
Seven
1.80
Hundred.
Hundred.
28
*Skin.
Ride.
.60
Wry.
•65
Black.
1.70
Man.
1.70
29
*Hair.
Black.
.80
This.
.64
Brown.
i. 80
Brown.
1-57
30
*Tooth.
Buds.
•7i
Buds.
1. 10
White.
White.
i. 80
31
* Page.
Three.
•85
Yes.
47
Book.
i. 80
Book.
1.80
32
* Weight.
Heavy.
.89
Iron.
1.80
Iron.
J-33
33
* Glass.
Yes.
1.04
Heavy.
.76
Bottle.
Bottle.
1.80
34
* Pound.
Heavy.
.96
Kilo.
.80
Ounce.
1.80
Ounce.
1.80
35
*Fat.
Kilo.
.76
Yes.
I. CO
Man.
i. 80
Man.
1.80
36
*Cook.
Meter.
.72
Quick.
42
Mrs.
1.80
Mrs.
i. 80
Rhadge.
Rhadge.
ceal. It will be remembered that there was a handkerchief
scented with asafoedita in the drawer. When the word odor
was given, O. gave the association stink. Again, when the
stimulus word -weight was given, he answered, iron. This,
perhaps, because of the iron weight in the drawer. And when
the word hairy was given the reply was man. This would ap-
408
G. HENKE AND M. W. EDDY.
pear to be on account of the picture of a hairy man on page 33
of the book, The Native Tribes of Central Australia.
In the case of Mr. S. it is at once apparent that for some
reason he repeated words in giving associations which were
manifestly not prompted by the stimulus word. This is shown
by the short reaction time. The word red called up the word
carmine, which was the name on one of the bottles of ink.
When winsome was given he gave the word metric in .56 of a
TABLE VI.
QUANTITATIVE RESULTS OF EXPERIMENT III.
Results Mr. S.
Results Mr. O.
a
a
a
_
it Time)
relevant
Words.
st Time)
gfnificant
Words.
roductio
relevant
Words.
•2 'a
U jj
st Time)
jnificaul
Words.
roductio
relevant
Words.
•2 a .
~W
~*
4JM
M
<U CO
M
^M
£•'&
SM
M
Mean.
I.OI
I. II
• 75
.76
1.84
2.21
1.66
1.78
Mean Variation.
.26
.20
.26
•15
.22
•65
.18
.38
Difference in Means.
+ .10
+.01
+.37
+.12
_, ( Long.
1.65
1.65
1.08
1. 12
2-95
2-75
3-50
2.70
rvxtren _s -^ gjjort.
.65
.60
•50
•25
1. 10
1-33
I.I7
1.24
Maximum Range.
1.05
.87
1.85
2-33
second. This word he evidently had in mind as his next asso-
ciation word. Winsome was followed by the stimulus word
external, the association given for this being lass, we had rea-
son to believe that this was the actual association called up by
the word 'winsome. By turning to the written directions the
phrase, * winsome lass ' will be found. An examination of the
quantitative results of the experiment shows that Mr. S. had
association words in mind before the stimulus word was given.
This has greatly reduced the average time, both for the irrele-
vant and the significant words. The difference in the associa-
tion time of the irrelevant and the significant words of Mr. O.
indicates the emotional tendency of a significant stimulus word,
whether or not the subject tried to alter his first associations.
Our judgment on this last experiment was (i) that both Mr.
O. and Mr. S. had been in the room and had performed the
series of acts, (2) that Mr. O. did not try to conceal, (3) that
Mr. S. made an attempt to conceal.
MENTAL DIAGNOSIS BY REACTION METHOD. 409
Our conclusions regarding the general feasibility of the
association reaction method in mental diagnosis are as follows :
I. Accurate judgment is reasonably certain, in event the
situation is so controlled that the diagnosis take the simple form
of determining between two possible alternatives, the exact
motive of which is definitely known by the experimenter; our
results in this regard have been in substantial agreement with
those given by Messrs. Yerkes and Berry.1
II. In such cases it is probable that the diagnosis will be so
simple that a third party who has observed the experiment will
be in a position to draw right conclusions.
III. Knowledge of the association reaction method on the
part of the subject, though he attempts to utilize it in conceal-
ing his relation to the experiment, does not make a correct
diagnosis impossible.
IV. The difficulty of accurate diagnosis increases in pro-
portion as the advantage which the experimenter has over the
subject is gradually restricted, and the number of possible
diagnoses increased. We see no reason why the situation
might not conceivably be so complicated that accurate diagnosis
would i-pso facto be impossible.
'Cf. The American Journal of Psychology, January, 1909, p. 226.
BINOCULAR RIVALRY.
BY B. B. BREESE,
University of Cincinnati.
In a former report on binocular rivalry1 the average length
of the normal rivalry phases for 10 mm. squares was reported
to be 1.89 seconds with an average variation of .5 second.
In the experiments upon which this report was based the
stimuli — red and green squares with black lines running diag-
onally across them — were mounted upon a stereoscopic slide
and placed in the stereoscope so that the red square was pre-
sented to the right eye and the green square to the left eye.
The background of both squares was a uniform black. The
length of time each field remained in consciousness was regis-
tered by means of electric keys connected with the recording
pens of a kymograph drum. The observations were made
upon myself ten years ago.
Within the last year I have repeated the experiments under
the same conditions except that the squares were crossed by
vertical and horizontal instead of by diagonal lines ; vertical on
the green and horizontal on the red squares. These squares
were mounted as before on a uniformly black stereoscopic slide.
Registration of the length of the phases of the rivalry was
made upon a revolving drum by means of keys electrically
connected with pens, one for each hand. The right key was
pressed down when the right (red) field was in consciousness
and the left key when the left (green) field was in conscious-
ness. The kymograph drum carried a tuning fork marker which
registered the time in hundredths of seconds.
Three hundred changes in the rivalry showed an average
phase length of 1.84 seconds with an average variation of .5 2
1 ' On Inhibition,' Vol. III., No. I, Monograph Supplement, PSYCHOLOG-
ICAL REVIEW.
2 There is considerable variation in the lengths of the rivalry phases for
different individuals under the same conditions. This was found to be true in
previous experiments. See also ' A Study of Retinal Rivalry in the After-
image,' by Alma de Vries and Margaret F. Washburn, in the January number
of the American Journal of Psychology, p. 131.
410
BINOCULAR RIVALRY. 411
second. Between 54 and 55 changes occurred in the red and
green fields during every 100 seconds, practically the same rate
of fluctuation in the rivalry as that of ten years ago. The fol-
lowing account gives the time of the rivalry phases and rate of
fluctuation under new conditions not yet reported upon.
THE EFFECT OF VARIATION IN THE SIZE OF THE STIMULI.
Five slides were prepared like the one used in the previous
experiment except that they varied in size from 3 mm. to 30
mm. One hundred changes were recorded in each case.
Tables I. and II. give the results
TABLE I.
Size of Squares. Length of Time of 100 Changes. Average Length of Phase.
3 mm. squares. 317 seconds. 3.17 seconds.
8 " " 240 " 2.40 "
10 " " 184 " 1.84 "
20 " " 152 " 1.52
30 " " 130 •' 1.30
The rate of fluctuation per 100 seconds is given in Table II.
TABLE II.
3 mm. squares. 31-32 changes in 100 seconds.
8 " " 41-42 " «« " "
10 " " 54-55 " " "
20 " " 65-66 ' '
30 " " 76-77 " " "
In one of the experiments already reported the stimuli were
of different sizes for the two eyes. A 10 mm. square was pre-
sented to the right eye, a 5 mm. square to the left eye. This
change in the size of the stimuli resulted in lengthening the
average phase for the smaller square by .34 of a second. The
normal rivalry, when 10 mm. squares were used for both eyes,
showed 53-54 changes in 100 seconds and an average phase
length of 1.89. But when one of the squares was reduced to
5 mm., the rivalry was reduced to 44-45 changes in 100 sec-
onds and the phase corresponding to the smaller square was
lengthened to 2.23 seconds while the phase for the larger square
remained the same.
The effect of increasing the size of the squares is analogous
to that which resulted from increasing the light intensities of
412 B. B. B REESE.
the stimulating squares. Experiments with the 10 mm. squares
showed that the rate of fluctuation in the rivalry increased and
decreased with the increase and decrease of the intensity of the
lights used to illuminate the squares.1 These lights varied
from a very dim light just sufficient to make the lines upon the
squares clearly perceptible to that of a 100 c.p. arc light. Table
III. is compiled from the data of previous experiments.
TABLE III.
Wght Intensities. Rate per 100 Seconds. Phase Length.
Dim light. 24-25 4,24 seconds.
16 c.p. at 400 cm. (Inc.). j' 46-47 2.15 "
i6c.p. " 50 " " 58-59 1.70
80 c.p. " " " " 67-68 1.48
100 c.p. " " " (Arc). 83-84 1.20 "
In the data given above the light intensities for each eye
were equal in every case. But if the squares were unequally
lighted, it was found that the phase length corresponding to the
brighter square was lengthened instead of shortened. In every
case where there was an equal increase in the light intensities
of both squares there was an increase in the fluctuation of the
rivalry and a decrease in the phase lengths, but when one
square only was increased in light intensity, the rate of fluctua-
tion was decreased, due to the increase in the phase length
of the brighter square.
THE EFFECT OF DISTINCTNESS OF THE IMAGES UPON
RIVALRY.
In the above experiments the stereoscopic slides were so
adjusted that the retinal images were brought to a sharp focus
on the retinae. In order to determine what effect a change in
the distinctness of the images would have upon the rivalry 400
changes were measured, 200 in focus and 200 out of focus.
The slide with the 10 mm. squares was used.
IN Focus.
200 changes in 363 seconds.
Average length of phase 1.81 seconds.
Average variation's second.
55-56 changes in 100 seconds.
1 'On Inhibition,' page 39, Sec. 9.
BINOCULAR RIVALRY. 413
Pushing the slide out 70 mm. from its position of sharpest
focus, or until the black lines on the squares were just distin-
guishable, the following results were obtained :
OUT OF Focus.
200 changes in 748 seconds.
Average length of phase 3.74 seconds.
Average variation .5 -f second.
26-27 changes in 100 seconds.
PERIPHERAL RIVALRY.
So far, only the rivalry of the central parts of the retinae
has been considered. For comparison of central with that of
peripheral rivalry the slide with the 8 mm. squares was used.
When placed in position in the stereoscope for clearest vision
the slide was found to be 200 mm. from the principal foci of
the eyes. In order to keep the distances from all parts of the
slide to the retinas uniform when the fixation points were
changed, each half of the slide was mounted upon sections of
spheres whose radii were 200 mm. The 8 mm. squares were
each placed in the central parts of the sections and around
each were placed eight fixation points, two to the right, two
above, two to the left, and two below. All the points to the
right and left of the squares were in the horizontal plane which
cuts the eyes into upper and lower halves, and all the points
above and below were placed in the median planes of each eye
when they fixated the centers of the squares. The arrange-
ment was such that there was a fixation point directly to tl>e
right, directly above, directly to the left and directly below the
center of each square and at an angular distance of 3.6° from the
centers. Similarly a second set of fixation points was placed
at a distance of 7.2° from the centers.
When placed in the stereoscope the red square and the eight
fixation points of the right field and the green square and eight
fixation points of the left field were superimposed. Fixation
of the points to the right resulted in projecting the images of
the squares upon the temporal half of the right retina and
upon the nasal half of the left retina, the right square upon the
right eye and the left square upon the left eye respectively. If
the first point were fixated the images of the squares were
B. B. BREESE.
approximately 3.6° from the foveae and upon corresponding
areas of the retinal surfaces. The rivalry then took place
upon the peripheral parts of the retinae. If the second point
to the right were fixated then the images of the squares were
approximately 7.2° from the foveae. When the points to the left
were fixated the images were thrown upon the left halves of the
eyes ; when the points above were fixated the images were thrown
upon the upper halves ; when the points below were fixated the
images were on the lower halves of the eyes and at the dis-
tances from the foveae represented by the distances of the fixa-
tion points from the centers of the squares. This gave an
opportunity to measure eight sets of rivalry images upon the
peripheral parts of the retinae, and to compare the rates of
rivalry and the lengths of the phases with that upon the central
parts of the eyes. The rivalry was found in every case to be
very much slower on the periphery and consequently the phases
of the fluctuation were very much lengthened. The phase
length was more than doubled while the rapidity of the fluctua-
tions was less than one half that of normal central rivalry. The
zones further from the foveae gave a slower rivalry rate than
the zones nearer the fovea. Table IV. gives the results of this
experiment.
TABLE IV.
Central Rivalry, 8 mm. Squares.
Number of
Changes
Recorded.
Total Time of
Changes.
Average Length
of Phases.
62
149 seconds.
2.44 seconds.
Peripheral Rivalry, 8 mm. Squares.
Fixation points
16°
Right.
Up.
28
40
134.8 seco
236.9
nds.
4.80 seco
5-92
nds.
from center of squares.
Left.
Down.
28
40
120.2
208.7
4-30
5.22
Fixation points
7 2°
Right.
Up.
24
22
121.5 seco
131.6
nds.
5.06 seco
5-98
nds.
from center of squares.
Left.
Down.
22
22
125-7
127.2
5-71
5-78
The average variation for the central rivalry was .5 second ;
for peripheral rivalry it was i.i seconds. The general average
IUNOCULAR RIVALRY.
4'5
of the length of the phases for the zones 3.6° from the fovese
was 5.05 seconds, while that for the zones 7.2° from the fovese
was 5.64 secpnds. The rate of rivalry per 100 seconds was as
follows :
TABLE V.
Central Rivalry.
Fixation point f Right
Up,
Peripheral Rivalry.
3-6°
from center of ] Left,
squares. [ Down.
Fixation point f Right. 19-20
7.2° Up. 15-16
from center of j Left. 17-18
squares. [ Down. 17-18
40-41 changes in 100 seconds.
20-21 " " "
16-17 " " "
20-21 " " "
19-20 " " "
MINOR STUDIES FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL
LABORATORY OF WELLESLEY COLLEGE.
(COMMUNICATED BY PROFESSOR ELEANOR A. McC. GAMBLE.)
I.
INTENSITY AS A CRITERION IN ESTIMATING THE
DISTANCE OF SOUNDS.
BY E. A. McC. GAMBLE.
The purpose of this study was to find evidence for or against
the ordinary assertion that the distance of a sound is estimated
mainly on the basis of its intensity. The investigation falls
into two divisions. In the first division the evidence was sought
by an indirect method. The experiments constituted an attempt
to determine the just noticeable divergences from a number of
standard distances. The argument on which the work was
based is as follows :
1. The intensity of a sound varies inversely as the square of
the distance. If the relative distance of two sounds is expressed
by the ratio 9 : 16, then, other things being equal, their relative
intensity must be expressed by the ratio 4:3.
2. If the relative distance of sounds is judged in terms of
their intensity, then a just noticeable difference in distance may
be expected to imply a just noticeable difference in intensity.
This means that if a sound at a distance of 9 feet is just notice-
ably nearer than the same sound — /. e., a sound produced by
the same stimulus — at a distance of 16 feet, then the just notice-
able difference in intensity must be one third of the intensity of
the weaker stimulus. It should be noted, however, that it is
conceivable that intensity is the main criterion in judging only
gross differences in distance, and that variation of overtones is
hirhly important in judging liminal differences.
*\3. If Weber's law holds for sounds in general, then a just
noti ble variation from the intensity of two or more standard
sounds produced by the same stimulus must be approximately
416
INTENSITY IN ESTIMATING DISTANCE OF SOUNDS. 417
the same fraction of the total intensity of these standard sounds.
If we grant all these premises, then we must infer that when-
ever we find a just perceptible difference between distances of
the same sound, we shall find that the intensities as determined
by these distances always bear about the same ratio to one
another. Several investigators have found that one third is the
' Weber's law fraction ' for the noise of small falling bodies.
Let us suppose that this fraction holds for sounds in general,
whether noises, tones of different pitches, or clangs. Then one
sound will always be just noticeably nearer and louder than
another when the intensity ratio is approximately 4:3. When-
ever we find a just noticeable difference in distance, we shall
find that the distances are as 9 is to 16 and that the intensities
are as 4 is to 3.
The fraction one third has been taken only for purposes of
illustration. It is more than probable that it does not apply to
sounds at large. Let us then represent two just noticeably dif-
ferent distances of the same sound by m and n. Now on the
assumptions of the foregoing argument, one will find that the
ratio which holds between rn2 and n2 always holds between the
squares of any two just noticeably different distances of this
sound. Therefore, if in various instances of just perceptible dif-
•ference in distance, we find no such equality of ratios, then
either Weber's law does not apply to the sound-stimulus used,
or else intensity is not the main criterion in estimating liminal
differences in its distance, or else the validity both of Weber's
law and of the intensity-criterion are ruled out in the particular
case. If, on the other hand, the equality of ratios is found to
hold repeatedly, then there is a strong presumption both that
Weber's law does apply to the stimulus in question, and that
intensity is indeed the main criterion in estimating liminal differ-
ences in the distance of this particular sound. Of course, a
negative conclusion will be warranted only if the experimental
conditions are good or if the results are so numerous that the
effects of accidental variations in the conditions may be sup-
posed to cancel one another.
In the second division of the experiments the method was
more direct. The subjects, who knew little or nothing of the
41 8 E. A. McC. GAMBLE.
object of the experiments, were required to describe repeatedly
the difference in two sounds, which varied sometimes in initial
intensity and sometimes in distance, or which were altered in
intensity when they were supposed to be altered in distance.
The purpose of these experiments was to determine the degree
to which the subjects were likely to confuse one difference with
the other. For brevity, the experiments of the first division will
be called the ' Weber's law experiments/ and those of the second
division will be called the ' confusion experiments.'
Experiments of both divisions were made in the academic
years 1897-1898, 1898-1899 and 1899-1900. 1 Throughout the
experiments the sounds were given with a telephone receiver
and the distance from the subject's ear was measured upon a
board supported at such a height that the opening of the receiver
when held close above it — with only the experimenter's fifth
finger inserted between receiver and board — could be approxi-
mately on a level with the opening of the ear of the subject
whose chair could be raised or lowered according to her height.
In the first year of the experiments, this board was about
two inches wide and was raised on supports about 16 inches
from a table 36 inches wide. In the last two years the meas-
uring-board was only half an inch thick, had a bevelled edge
graduated in half-centimeters, and was held, edge-up, by slender
supports which rose from the floor. The room is which the ex-
periments were made is 47 feet long and i^/4 feet wide. The
subject's end of the board was about 10 feet from one end of
the room and the board ran parallel with the longer walls of
the room and practically in the center crosswise. From this
end of the room all furniture unnecessary to the experiments
was cleared away. The room was reasonably but not ideally
quiet. Rude as the conditions thus indicated may seem, by far
the most serious drawback to the experimental conditions con-
sisted in the nature of the sound itself. The sound used was
not a telephone-click ; the click was considered too weak and
irregular (' sputtering ') for the purpose. The sound employed
1 The experiments were made in the three successive years by Miss Louise
S. McDowell, Miss Amy G. Whitney and Miss Inez Mathews, who were all
students in a second-year course in psychology. The work was directed at dif-
ferent times by Professor Calkins, by Dr. James E. I/ough and by the writer.
INTENSITY IN ESTIMATING DISTANCE OF SOUNDS. 419
was a * musical tone ' produced by passing the alternating light-
ing-current of the college, or a secondary current induced by
this current, through the telephone receiver. The coil on the
magnet of a discarded piece of apparatus was thrown into the
circuit by way of resistance. When the primary current was
used, the opening of the receiver was plugged with cotton to
reduce the loudness of the sound. The secondary current pro-
duced a sound which erred in the direction of being too weak,
but the intensity could be further reduced at will by sliding out
the induction-coil. The great defect in the experimental ar-
rangements consisted in the fact that the intensity of the sound
varied considerably from one sitting to another according to the
number of electric lamps through which the current was passing.
A minor difficulty consisted in the ' humming ' of the induction-
coil. In the first year of the experiments no induction-coil was
used; diminution in the initial intensity of the sound (/. e.,
diminution in its loudness near its source and not as determined
by distance) were produced by screening the receiver with the
hand. In the second year the induction-coil was used only in
the confusion experiments. In half of these experiments the
initial intensity of the sound was altered by sliding out the coil ;
in the other half the screening-method was used. In the third
year, the induction-coil was used in all the experiments because
in consequence of a change in the dynamo supplying the alter-
nating current, the sound produced by the primary current had
altered to a harsh bray. In all cases, the experimenter made
and broke the circuit by means of a push-button on a shunt.
Throughout the experiments reasonable precautions were
taken to cancel the effect of the time-error, the expectation-
error, and the like. (The experiments were scarcely elaborate
enough to merit a detailed account of program.) At least in the
last two years, the sounds to be compared were given two seconds
apart and the subject was required always to judge the sound
with reference to the first as a standard. The subjects with one
exception were all students in a first-year course in psychology.
In the confusion experiments they were blindfolded, but in the
other experiments they were simply required « not to look.'
The Weber's law experiments of the first two years led to no
420 E. A. McC. GAMBLE.
very definite outcome. The work of these two years consisted
in skirmishing to hit upon the divergence from a number of
standard distances which would give 80 per cent, of right
cases in comparing the two distances. Perforce, a number of
different subjects were used — three in the first year and four in
the second and only one of them trained — because no one sub-
ject was available for extended work. With each subject
several different distances were used as standards, ten different
distances were compared with each standard, and only ten
comparisons were made with each pair of distances. (Com-
parisons of the same standard with different distances were
interspersed with one another.) In view, on the one hand, of
the variations which must arise under experimental conditions
of so rough a nature, and in view, on the other, of the scattering
of the experiments over so many subjects and distances, it is
scarcely surprising that little regularity appears in the figures
obtained. The results of the second year are rather less regular
than those of the first. The latter may be summarized as
follows, if one averages the results of the three subjects and if
one assumes that about 80 per cent, of right judgments indicates
a liminal difference between two stimuli :
Standard distances in cm.: 20 30 40 60 80 100 120 140 200 300
Ratio between intensity at
standard and distance
just noticeably greater: iff- ^ Jfli Y# W W W W W W
Distance just notice-
ably less: ffl ffl tff ffl tf% &$ ^ tt* ffl W
These figures look very much like the sort of results which
might very well be obtained from unpracticed subjects, under
rough conditions, if Weber's law applied to the stimulus and the
fraction were about one fifth.1
In the third year only two subjects were employed — L., a
student in a second-year course in psychology, and G., the
writer. The plan of the experiments was to find a pair of dis-
tances which would give, when compared, from about 75 to 80
per cent, of right cases, and then to work with another or other
1 M. Wien found the fraction one fifth to hold good for the tone a at about
220 vibrations. For the corresponding ef , he found the fraction to be one sixth
and for the corresponding a', he found the fraction to be one eighth. This
statement is made on the authority of Ebbinghaus, Grundzuge der Psychologic,
1905, P- 3°2-
INTENSITY IN ESTIMATING DISTANCE OF SOUNDS. 421
pairs of distances which would involve the same ratio between
the intensities of the sounds. The results of these experiments
are given in the following table :
RESULTS OP THIRD YKAR OF EXPERIMENTS IN DETERMINING LIMINAI.
DIFFERENCES IN SOUND DISTANCES.
Sub-
ject.
Set of
Experi-
ments.
Distances
Compared, cm.
Ratio of Corre-
sponding
Intensities.
Number of
Comparisons.
Right Cases.
Per Cent
G.
I
20 and 25
156 : 100
224
91
2
20 22.5
127 : 100
250
89
3
3° 35
136 : loo
425
89
4
3° 33
121 : loo
475
86
5
30 32
114 : loo
400
66
6
30 32.5
117 : IOO
475
76
L.
I
36 and 43
143 : loo
825
71
2
36 46
163 : 100
150
99
3
36 43-5
146 : IOO
825
74
4
26 31
142 : IOO
725
72
5
46 55-5
146 : IOO
325
77
In the case of G., the effect of practice made the « 80 per
cent, point ' hard to find. A difference in distance which at first
promised to give far less than 80 per cent, of right judgments
would toward the end of a set of comparisons yield far more.
Thus, only one difference was finally demonstrated to be
liminal, viz., the difference between 30 and 32.5 cm. That
this difference was really liminal is shown by the fact that
either an excess or a lack of half a centimeter made a great
difference in the number of right judgments obtained. It is
noteworthy that the intensity-difference implied by this liminal
distance-difference is about one fifth of the smaller stimulus-
intensity.
The results obtained from L. certainly seem, in so far as
they go, to prove the point at issue. In two cases in which the
intensity-ratio between the sounds compared was approximately
the same, the percentage of right cases was almost exactly the
same, and in two other cases in which the intensity-ratio was
exactly the same the percentage of right cases was approxi-
mately the same. Moreover, the number of comparisons in
each case was respectably large. The fraction which meas-
ured the just noticeable difference was, however, very large,
amounting to two fifths of the smaller intensity.
422
E. A. McC. GAMBLE.
On the whole the results of the first division of the experi-
ments suggest although they do not prove, that the estimation of
sound-intensities in general follows Weber's law, and also forms
the basis of the estimation of liminal differences in distance.
The confusion experiments were both simpler and much
more fruitful of results. Their conduct may conveniently be
described in connection with the following table which sum-
marizes the data obtained :
RESUI/TS OF 'CONFUSION EXPERIMENTS.'
Year i.
Difference in Stimuli.
Cases.
Distance in Cm.
30
60
I2O
240
Judgments
Per Cent.
Judgments
Per Cent.
Judgments
Per Cent.
Judgments
Per Cent.
N
F
E
^V
F
E
N
F
E
N
F
E
Second sound louder.
Second sound softer.
30
30
87
7
100
7
80
7
97
13
3
73
17
13
83
!3
IO
40
37
37
53
23
10
Year 2.
Relation of Stimuli.
Method.
Screening.
Use of Induction Coil.
Distance.
Distance.
15 cm.
30 cm.
15 cm.
30 cm.
Cases.
Judgments
Per Cent.
Cases.
Judgments
Per Cent.
tn
B
a
Judgments
Per Cent.
U
W
as
U
Judgments
Per Cent.
N
f
E
U
N
F
E
U
N
F
£
U
N
F
E
U
Second sound louder.
Second sound softer.
Both sounds loud.
Both sounds soft.
152
125
31
41
73
6
26
15
5
78
3
5
22
14
71
8l
I
153
124
32
42
72
6
16
12
9
80
3
10
19
12
81
79
2
162
132
36
45
65
9
19
4
7
77
8
20
27
14
72
73
I
2
142
116
27
139
65
5
ii
10
8
84
15
21
26
IO
74
69
I
Year 3.
Judgments Per Cent.
N
F
L
S
E
U
Second sound nearer.
893
22
5
29
8
32
4
Second sound farther.
H59
5
28
6
29
27
5
Second sound louder.
509
21
2
35
8
3°
4
Second sound softer.
712
I
28
2
52
13
3
The only abbreviations which need explanation are the initials
in the columns under 'judgments per cent.' N means that in
INTENSITY IN ESTIMATING DISTANCE OF SOUNDS. 423
a certain percentage of a given set of comparisons (of which
the number is given under * cases '), the second sound was
judged to be the * nearer' of the two. In the same way, F
stands for « farther,' L for ' louder,' S for ' softer,' E for * equal '
or 'same,' and £/"for 'uncertain.' All cases in which for any
reason the subject failed to pass judgment are gathered under
U. In the figures for each of the three years, the results
obtained from all the subjects are massed (not averaged) as if
they had been obtained from one subject. In the first year, the
subjects numbered three, and sixty cases — twenty for each sub-
ject— were obtained with each distance — thirty with the second
sound louder and thirty with it softer. In the second year,
the subjects numbered fifteen and each subject made about
twenty-five comparisons with each method of altering the initial
intensity of the sound (screening and use of the induction-coil)
at each distance — about one hundred comparisons in all. In
the third year of work, thirty-two subjects were used, and each
subject made about one hundred comparisons. In this year no
attempt was made to compare the results which might be
obtained at different standard distances. The subjects of the
confusion experiments were all first-year students of psychology,
but those of the first year of work were the same three who had
served as subjects in the experiments of the Weber's law
division.
In the first two years of the experiments, the subjects were
led to think that only the distance of the sound would be varied,
whereas, if any difference at all were made in the stimulus,
only the initial intensity of the sound was actually varied. As
important a point as any which the figures bring out is that the
subjects did not detect the imposition which was practiced upon
them. (To this rule there are one or two exceptions which are
of little practical importance since the subjects' misgivings,
which never amounted to more than suspicion, were due to
same carelessness or misadventure on the part of the experi-
menter.) The figures show that in the great majority of cases,
difference in intensity produced the impression of difference in
distance — in such wise that the louder sounds were interpreted
as the nearer — and that equality of intensity produced the im-
424 E. A. McC. GAMBLE.
pression of equality in distance. Although the sounds were all
really equal in the respect in which the subjects judged some
of them to be different, and although in the second year some
pairs of sounds were given which were really equal in all
respects and were judged to be equal, yet no preponderating
tendency appears to err in the direction of passing too many
equality-judgments. As regards the experiments of the second
year, it should be noted incidentally that a greater change of
intensity seems to have been produced by screening the tele-
phone than by sliding out the coil. The coil was moved from
3 to 5 cm. according to the strength of the current on the par-
ticular day. Since the subjects did not detect the very simple
ruse employed, the greater number of right cases obtained with
the screening-method can scarcely be laid to any peculiar
muffling of the sound.
In the first two years the subjects were under the influence
of suggestion when they interpreted differences in intensity as
differences in distance. The effect of suggestion might con-
ceivably be great enough to make the subject's image different
« distance-qualities,' if such marks ever exist, with different
sound-intensities. In the third year, the subjects were entirely
free from the effect of suggestion, as regards the point at issue.
They were required simply to tell how the sounds in the pairs
given them for comparison differed. It was suggested merely
that these sounds might differ in distance, in loudness, or in
pitch. The statement was purposely made in such a form that
the unreflecting subject could think that ' the same ' sound
might be nearer without being louder. As a matter of fact, the
difference was sometimes one of distance, and sometimes one of
initial intensity, as controlled by the use of the induction-coil.
The extent to which the coil was pulled out and the distances
at which the sounds were given differed somewhat from one
sitting to another according to the strength of the primary cur-
rent, but at the same sitting only two distances and two intensi-
ties were compared. The one hundred comparisons demanded
of each subject were ordinarily made at one sitting. The dis-
tance at which the nearer sound was given rarely exceeded 30
cm. The experimenter meant to work with superliminal dif-
INTENSITY IN ESTIMATING DISTANCE OP SOUNDS. 425
ferences both of distance and of intensity, but the figures indi-
cate that the differences were in general not more than liminal.
The third part of the table shows that the judgments of
• nearer ' and « louder,' and of * farther ' and • softer ' were prac-
tically interchangeable. The subjects showed a marked tend-
ency, however, to say more often that a sound was louder when
it was louder only in virtue of being nearer, than to say that it
was nearer when it was merely louder, and so also, mutatis
mutandis, with the judgments of ' softer ' and * farther.' This
fact may be interpreted in three different ways : (i) If one beg
the question at issue in this investigation as a whole, one may
say that when the initial intensity and the distance of a sound are
both unknown, one's attention dwells upon intensity just because
one is more accustomed to making intensity the clue to distance
than to making distance the clue to intensity. In view of the
whole trend of the confusion experiments this seems to the
writer the natural explanation of the tendency towards judg-
ments of 'louder' and 'softer,' and the tendency itself seems
to be a striking confirmation of the ordinary belief which is here
in question. The fact that there were any judgments at all of
« nearer ' and « farther ' is, in view of the results of the first two
years, sufficiently explained by suggestion. (2) If, however,
one believes in distance-qualities, one may say that the subject
is more likely to overlook the difference in such qualities than
to imagine one. (3) Finally, the tendency in question may
(conceivably) be due to the fact that the subjects were reflecting
enough to realize, at least dimly, that nearness implies loudness
in a way that loudness does not imply nearness, so that the in-
tensity-judgment has a double chance of being right. There
are, however, few recorded remarks or other data which lead
one to believe that the subjects at large clearly distinguished
between the loudness of a sound as determined by its distance
and its initial loudness. The failure of our subjects to make
this distinction must not be interpreted as telling against the
practical value of intensity as a clue to distance. One may
associate place-images with intensities for practical purposes in
ordinary life — as, for example, when one is estimating the
distances of a railway-train which one wishes to catch — and
426 E. A. McC. GAMBLE.
yet, in spite of these serviceable associations, one may fail to
think clearly about the two conditions of intensity on occasions
when intensity and distance are alike unknown and are equally
uninteresting to the natural man.
Three additional remarks must be made : (i) In these
records — for the confusion experiments of the last year —
there is a sprinkling of cases in which the same sound was
judged to be both nearer and louder or farther and softer, and a
still smaller number of cases — about a dozen out of 3,273 —
in which the same sound was called both nearer and softer or
farther and louder. These double judgments are reckoned in
the table as if the first judgment expressed had been the only
one. They may be interpreted either for or against the assump-
tion of a sharp distinction on the part of the subjects between
the two conditions of loudness.
(2) Differences in pitch or musical quality were very rarely
alleged by the subjects — not nearly so often indeed as differ-
ences in duration, which were purely accidental. No correla-
tion can be made out between the pitch-differences mentioned
and differences in distance.
(3) Curiously enough, throughout the confusion experi-
ments of the three years, the number of right and of pseudo-
right cases was noticeably greater when the second sound was
the weaker of the two compared. Thus the ordinary time-
error was consistently reversed. The writer cannot explain
this fact.
The results as a whole offer considerable evidence for, and
little or no evidence against, the ordinary belief that intensity is
the main criterion in estimating the distance of a sound. The
writer is not prepared to explain the divergence between the
results of these experiments and the results obtained by Pro-
fessor Von Kries, in support of a distance-quality or mark, but
must be content to point out that the results here presented are
the more numerous and that they were obtained by a method
which was scarcely less precise than the method of Von Kries.1
1 See Von Kries, ' Ueber das Erkennen der Schallrichtung, ' Zeit.f. Psych,
u. Phys. der Sinnesorgane, I. (1890), especially pp. 246-247.
PERCEPTION OF DISTANCE OF SOUNDS. 427
II.
THE PERCEPTION OF THE DISTANCE OF SOUND.
BY DANIEL STARCH, PH.D.,
WITH THE ASSISTANCE OP ANNE L. CRAWFORD, B.A.
The object of this experiment was to determine the accuracy
of perceiving the distance of a sound in a representative group
of directions, to discover whether this accuracy varies in dif-
ferent directions, and to find the factors on which the perception
of distance is based.
It was necessary for this purpose to employ as constant a
stimulus as possible. The telephone click had been used in
some preliminary experiments but it was not sufficiently uniform.
A small wooden drop hammer, 3 cm. long by 2 cm. in diam-
eter, was devised which produced a satisfactory stimulus. The
handle of the hammer, 20 cm. long, was set in a pivot so that it
could be swung freely up and down. The hammer was held
by a catch-spring from which it could be released easily and
quietly and dropped nine centimeters upon a wooden block cov-
ered with chamois. The block, the pivot of the hammer and
the catch-spring were all mounted on a small bar of wood which
served as a convenient handle in operating -the~TTarnmer. The
sound thus produced was constant and of sufficient intensity to
be readily perceived.
As a guide in determining the distances of the stimuli, a
narrow bracket bearing a centimeter scale and projecting toward
the center of the room, was fastened to the wall at the level of
the observer's head. The room was an unceiled eight-sided
steeple room, two and a half meters in diameter.
The method of the experiment was as follows : The observer
sat with closed eyes on a stool in the center of the room so that
his ears were on level with the hammer. The stimulus was
first given at the standard distance, one meter from the center
of the observer's head, and then approximately two seconds
later at a certain interval, say fifteen centimeters, nearer or
farther. The observer then gave his judgment of ' nearer ' or
' farther ' comparing the second sound with the first. Two of
the observers, G. and S., made after each trial a brief introspec-
428 DANIEL STARCH.
tive statement of the basis of judgment. The other observers
did so only occasionally. In this manner twenty-five judgments
were obtained in succession for a given direction. If more than
84 per cent, were correct the next smaller interval, in this case
ten centimeters, was used and if less than 68 per cent, were
correct the next larger interval, twenty centimeters, was tried for
the same direction. These percentages were empirically found
to be the widest limits on the basis of which to calculate safely,
by Fullerton and Cattell's table, the threshold of difference
necessary to have 75 per cent, of the judgments correct. The
series of distance intervals was three, five, ten, fifteen, . . .
forty centimeters. The total number of cases for a given posi-
tion in which the second sound was nearer, and of those in
which it was farther, were equal, but the cases followed in
irregular succession.
Thirteen directions, all in the right half of the horizontal
plane, were tested: o°f (*. e. straight in front), i5°rf, 3O°rf,
45°rf, 6o°rf, 75°rf, 9o°r, 75°rb, 6o°rb, 45°rb, so°rb, I5°rb and
o°b. The stimulus hammer always remained in the same posi-
tion, and, in order to test the different directions, the observers
turned to the required positions. These were determined by
means of Titchener's sound cage which was suspended at the
center of the room. The direction were tested in succession in
the double fatigue order, taking twenty-five judgments at a time
for one direction. The sittings were about forty-five minutes
long.
The results are presented in Tables I. and II. The figures
in the tables represent in centimeters the distances which the
second sound was required to be nearer or farther than the
standard in order that it might be perceptibly nearer or farther.
For example, the first figure in Table I. means that for G. the
second sound had to be 20.8 cm., nearer or farther than the first
or standard sound in order to be noticeably nearer or farther.
Table I. contains the measurements obtained from G. and S.,
the two experienced observers. G. is associate professor of psy-
chology and S. is the writer. The former had no acquaintance
with the problem whereas the latter had planned the investiga-
tion. Each gave 100 judgments for each direction, in all 2,600
PERCEPTION OF DISTANCE OF SOUNDS.
429
judgments. Table II. contains the data obtained from the six
untrained observers, each giving 50 judgments for each direction,
altogether 3,900 judgments.
TABLE I.
o'Jf
i5°rf
3o°rf
45°rf
fa»rf
73°rf
9*r
75°rb
' ., it.
^ ,\,
3o°rb
• < rl,
«°b
G.
S.
20.8
1 1.7
17-8
124
19.7
"•5
16.6
14-5
20.0
10.9
1 6.1
15-0
16.3
9.8
21-5
12.8
20.0
9.6
19.6
1 1.6
I8.7
12.7
1 6.2
9-7
19.1
8.2
Av.
16.2
I5-I
I5.6
15-5
154
15-5
13-0
17.1
14-8
15-6
15-7
12.9
13.6
TABLE II.
0°f
is°rf
3o°rf
4V rf
6o°rf
75°rf
9o°r
75°rb
6o°rb
45°rb
3o°rb
«s°rb
oPb
R.
13-5
12.7
14-3
I6.3
13-2
13-0
16.4
13.0
15-6
II.2
16.8
"•2
12.9
Su.
18.2
19-3
15-9
I8.7
I8.7
15-5
12.2
II. I
12.2
10.5
16.0
9.8
12.0
J.
7-9
II.O
6.8
7-i
8.8
3-7
3-5
2-7
3-2
5-o
3-3
5-3
2.7
K.
16.7
16.6
22.4
15-1
25.2
26.1
16.8
23.2
26.3
21.6
30.0
17.0
24-5
C.
18.8
22.4
15-5
22.4
20.9
214
26.9
1 8.0
21-3
28.9
16.3
18.4
1 6.0
W.
7-6
IO.O
21.7
14.7
12.2
IO.2
15-9
II.O
14-7
18.1
10.9
134
1 1.6
Av.
13-8
15-3
16.1
»5-7
I6.5
15-0
15-3
13-2
15-5
15-9
15.5
12.6
13-3
These figures give a definite answer to the questions in
whose interest these experiments were made.
First, in regard to the accuracy of perceiving the distance
of sound, they show that the least perceptible difference between
the distances of sounds is approximately 15 cm. when the sounds
are a meter away. The averages in both tables are in the
neighborhood of 15 cm. The individual records agree quite
closely with the exception of the unusually accurate record
ofj.
The second aim was to discover whether the accuracy of
perceiving the distance of sound varies for different directions
in the same way in which the accuracy of the perception of
direction varies for different regions. The results plainly
demonstrate that the accuracy of the perception of distance is
the same for all the directions tested. The averages all lie within
the range of 13 and 17 cm. without indicating any uniform
tendency toward greater accuracy in one region than in
another.
Third, in reference to the factors on which the auditory
430 DANIEL STARCH.
perception of distance is based, the introspections recorded in
connection with each judgment of G. and S. revealed several
elements, namely, differences in intensity, in pitch, and in
quality, for the different differences. The introspections ac-
companying each one of the 2,600 judgments of G. and S.
were tabulated in order to determine the relative significance
of these factors. By far the most important one is intensity.
With G. 95 per cent, and with S. 92 per cent, of the judgments
were said to be based wholly upon intensity. A sound was
judged nearer when it seemed to be more intense, and farther
when it seemed less intense than the standard. The remaining
judgments were based partly or entirely upon differences in
pitch and quality. But these factors did not seem to be used
consistently. Sometimes the farther sound seemed higher in
pitch and sometimes the nearer one. There was, however,
considerable uniformity among the judgments taken at one
sitting.
Visual imagery of the position of the sound was mentioned
a few times and was probably only a concomitant process.
The occasional introspections of the untrained observers indi-
cated the same factors, as those mentioned by the trained ob-
servers, giving the greatest importance to intensity.
DISCUSSION.
DARWINISM AND LOGIC : A REPLY TO PROFESSOR
CREIGHTON.
In his interesting paper, having the same title as this note, pub-
lished in the Darwin Number, May, 1909, of this REVIEW, Professor
J. E. Creighton cites my work, Thought and Things^ as representa-
tive of the Darwinian point of view in logic, and criticises it in some
detail. I am, of course, gratified that the work is honored in this
way. I find, however, that -Professor Creighton's criticisms are not
altogether valid, and I will accordingly suggest certain considerations
which in my opinion show this.
Professor Creighton has no difficulty in showing by quotations
from my different publications, that I am a Darwinian, and that Dar-
winian conceptions have had frequent application in my work ; this I
am making explicit enough in a little book on Darwin and the
Humanities now in press.1 Nor has he greater difficulty in showing
that I often take the standpoint from which experience is looked upon
as an immanent self-integrating movement. But he considers these
two points of view inconsistent with each other: one interprets experi-
ence 'biologically' — as a relation of organism and mind to environ-
ment — the other ' logically ' or * Ideologically ' (so Professor Creigh-
ton)— as a principle of internal organization and movement. The
question then is this: can both of these points of view be held at once?
— or does either commit us to a philosophy which excludes the other?
Evidently the first, the method and view-point of biological sci-
ence, must be upheld if we are to have a theory of mental develop-
ment and evolution at all. Each mind grows up in a body, and both
mind and body are in environments. Experience requires things and
situations : its own movement establishes and utilizes what we call the
1 trans-subjective reference.' Is the recognition of this consistent with
a theory which interprets experience as a progressive organization
having its own ' logic '?
Professor Creighton thinks that the latter point of view commits
one to a ' teleology ' which — though somewhat vague to me — seems
to require the denial of the validity of a Darwinian conception of
1 Review Publishing Co., Baltimore.
431
432 J. MARK BALDWIN.
adaptation, considered as a necessary factor in the development of
experience.1
Proceeding then to the criticism of my views, made by Professor
Creighton, I may say that it is in my last work alone, the ' Genetic
Logic,' that I have taken exclusively the point of view of experience.
It should not be compared with the other more biological books and
papers except as this difference is recognized.
In the Genetic Logic the attempt is made to trace out the actual
movement of experience from mode to mode, all of these modes being
equally 'psychic.' The result is reached that a dualism of controls,
due to segregation of contents, is come upon in experience itself.
This dualism is not injected by our interpretation, nor read in from an
external point of view : it is found by and in the process. The im-
portant point is that by its own immanental movement into the logical
mode, experience establishes just the dualism that science adopts
and employs. In the discussion of the relation of the 'psychic' and
' objective' points of view {Thought and Things, I., chap. II., §§ 3,
4), I show that the latter is simply the explicit outcome of the dualism
normally established when the mode of judgment or reflection is
reached.3 The scientific is simply the logical point of view made use
of as deliberate method. It involves the self judging or thinking
and objects judged about or observed — objects known to it as ' things.'
This very dualism is the presupposition of the logical as such ; and
scientific method — whether its results issue in Darwinism, Lamarck-
ism, vitalism, mechanism, teleology or any other type of theory — is
JHe uses the expression 'genetic or teleological ' as if these two terms were
synonymous (p. 185).
2 It is a conscious and deliberate difference, and cannot be looked upon as a
contradiction unless it can be shown that one of the points of view is rendered
invalid when one takes the other. In the Social Interpretations both methods
are used on occasion, to supplement and confirm each other, the biological
however having a very subordinate place. In the Genetic Logic, the standpoint
of experience, the ' psychic ' point of view, is consistently maintained. It is
erroneous, therefore, to say (Creighton, p. 180), "Professor Baldwin's account
professes to show, not how the mind becomes conscious of its own logical nature,
but how that logical nature is engendered in it through the motor adjustments
of the organism to material conditions." How the mind becomes [grows to be]
conscious of its logical nature [or processes] is just what the Genetic Logic
does profess to show.
3 Instead of allowing Professor Creighton's interpretation to the effect that
the 'inner and outer controls ' are in my hands ' a translation into other terms
of the organism and environment,' I hold that the relation of organism and
environment is a logical transformation of the dualism of inner and outer
controls.
DARWINISM AND LOGIC 433
thinking ', no more and no less than thinking. In the more refined
operations of thought upon ideas, the ideas are symbols of the things
into which they are at any time convertible. The sciences of observa-
tion go directly to the things, to perceptions and sensations; but in
both cases the control of the context, whether it be one of ideas or of
things, is the same — that of a sphere taken by the process to be foreign
to itself.
So far then from finding a contradiction between the point of view
of evolution — dualistic as it is — and that of a truly psychic account
of the genesis of knowledge, I find that the latter issues in and justi-
fies the former. Any adequate tracing out of the progression of
knowledge, within experience itself, shows it to issue in a system of
judgments in which the two controls — things as ' outer' and the self
as * inner' — are found confronting each other. Reflection sublimates
this dualism by erecting a mediating context of ideas; but all validi-
ties in the context and all truthful references beyond it, rest upon the
fact that this mediation is dual.
What then I would insist upon is the radically unreal character of the
supposed contradiction. The observation, experimentation, analysis,
etc., of biological science, as of all science, are processes proper
and vital to the logical mode of experience. Science is logical proc-
ess proceeding under its normal and necessary presuppositions. In
recognizing the externality of things — the environment — it is only
following the essential movement of psychic process, which although
presupposing externality, still finds it to be a meaning of contrast with
the internality of the inner control, of the self. Accordingly, one
may freely use the biological method and point of view (as I have done
in the paper on ' selective thinking ' which Professor Creighton con-
siders very reprehensible in this respect) ; for this procedure only rec-
ognizes as valid, for purposes of deliberate observation, the dualism
that logical experience itself establishes for all the processes of
thought.1
Of course, the further question will be asked : Is one's final philo-
sophical view then to be dualistic? — is logical experience to be taken
at its word and as the final word? Professor Creighton, as just cited,
says that I recognize only two alternatives, mechanism and aprior-
ism ; and he suggests the third, teleology. But my recognition of
these two modes of interpretation is merely to cite them as horns of a
1 It is clear then that the following statement of my view is not correct
(Creighton, p. 184), "here as elsewhere the alternative for Professor Baldwin is
between deriving logical principles mechanically and finding them existing
a priori " (italics his).
434 «/• MARK BALD WIN.
dilemma both of which are to be avoided.1 The teleological interpre-
tation, also, taken in its ordinary sense — barring its excessive ambigu-
ity— is also to be questioned, and for much the same reasons. These
reasons I may now briefly state.2
i. We are only remaining true to the standpoint of experience
itself in seeking to trace out the rise and development of such cate-
gories as mechanism and teleology. They arise as meanings attaching
to different sorts of experience ; and by them objects and situations are
consistently and profitably apprehended and treated. Some experi-
ences have a certain regularity and lawfulness : these, thus appre-
hended, come to mean the mechanical. In the case of other experi-
ences, developing conation shapes the contents toward personal ends :
these, so apprehended, mean the teleological. In the logical mode,
these two meanings become general ways of assimilating events of one
type or the other. Each is valid for its purpose, and each is restricted
in its use : one means to experience just the dominance of external,
the other that of internal control.
Now to use either of these as an exclusive or universal mode of
interpretation is to abolish the other in its own province, and so to
falsify our report of the progression of experience in which they have
together arisen. The mechanical would not be mechanical but for the
possession of those characters which show it to be bare of teleological
meaning; it represents knowledge formed under a control which evi-
dences itself as foreign. The teleological, on the other hand, would
not be teleological but for its character as embodying the agent's con-
trol exercised in the pursuit of personal ends. Teleological processes
as such are for consciousness not mechanical, and mechanical are not
teleological.
1 have contrasted the results of these two modes of process by using
the two expressions ' knowledge through (external) control ' — issuing
in sequences which are mechanical in their meaning — and '(in-
ternal) control through knowledge' — issuing in sequences with
which personal interest and conation are identified ( Thought and
Things, II., chap. XIV.). Unless the teleologists can show, from
the movement of further experience, that there is positive justification
1 1 do not accept the term ' mechanism ' as applicable to a genetic move-
ment proper ; it denotes only one of the possible naturalistic interpretations
of this movement. My own interpretation, embodied in the theory of 'genetic
modes,' combats the mechanical view.
2 The following has reference also to Professor Creighton's paper read at
Baltimore to which I listened. It may suggest to him some revision of that
paper, since this discussion is new.
DARWINISM AND LOGIC. 435
for the step,1 they may not employ as a universal solvent the partial
meaning which they favor.
2. Hut even if we allow the category of teleology to apply univer-
sally, it also issues in a characteristic dualism from which there is no log-
ica 1 escape. Ends are attained through the mediation of ideas or facts.
Facts and ideas are not ends : ' what a man hath why doth he yet hope
for ? ' — it is a further realization, beyond the idea or fact, that he hopes
for. A conscious end is always meditated — furthered or hindered — by
some fact or idea. To any teleology which involves genuine purpose,
the dualism of ' fact-idea and end ' — taking the form of ' means and
end ' or of ' hindrance to end ' — is as stubborn as that of ' thinker and
thing' in the domain of cognition.
To escape this difficulty, the intellectual idealist goes over to a
teleology which does not involve purpose in any concrete or actual
sense, while he still retains vaguely the principle of * means and ends.'
But what ' means and ends ' can mean apart from an agent who adopts
the means (facts or ideas) to attain the ends (results), it is difficult to
see. What is really present is the actual flow of genetic process,
with its great dualisms of knowledge and purpose. If we take this
process for what it is, it discovers itself to experience in the two modes
of organization called teleological or mechanical according as the
situations of actual life present contents of one sort or the other.1
1 Actually the progress of experience, both personal and racial, is away from
animistic and anthropomorphic teleological interpretations of nature. Science
has had gradually to achieve its birthright, only gradually establishing a concep-
tion of natural law which operates without ' teleological ' interference. Just here
is, in fact, in my opinion, the great service rendered by Darwinism to philo-
sophical thought : it once for all established a natural law of adaptation.
1 In my discussion of ' genetic series ' as such (the theory of ' Genetic Modes,'
Development and Evolution, chap. XIX., described by Professor Creighton as
a sort of invalid compromise), I have pointed out that such series present both
aspects, the quantitative or mechanical and the qualitative or in the large sense
' worthful ' : they show a form of sequence or conditioning which is not ex-
hausted by either interpretation taken alone. Professor Creighton is, I think, in
error in saying (p. 182) about this theory that ' the something new ' that it recog-
nizes as arising in a genetic series ' simply comes into the series as a miracle.' I
reply : it is not a miracle except to one who has already adopted a quantitative
or mechanical conception of all natural change. Such a cast-iron quantitative
conception apart — why should not nature produce novelties ? James and Berg-
son, as well as the present writer, have recently protested against the arid
' energistic' conception of ' cause and effect.' For my part, I am not willing to
prejudice the case by using the terms of mechanics for such sequences; I have
employed the term 'progression.' . . . Further, I do not admit Professor
Creighton's claim that a genetic series, as I conceive it, in my theory of 'genetic
436 /. MARK BALDWIN.
If this actual genetic movement, so apprehended in experience —
the progressive integration of contents, as on occasion both ' factual '
and ' end-fulfilling ' for the agent, is what Professor Creighton means
by ' teleology ' — then I am with him. I prefer that term to ' mechan-
ism,' if one is to use but one term for the entire movement. But my
aim is to go further constructively, and to discover what the issue is
when the movement does not stop with the mediation by ideas in either
of these two ways — with mediation as true for knowledge, and as
good for purpose — but when it goes on to apprehend the contents in a
further mode of direct contemplation. The movement then goes be-
yond the objectification of the contents in judgments of fact and value ;
and reaches a higher hyper-logical immediacy.1 My present purpose is
accomplished, however, in showing how it is possible to turn the edge
of Professor Creighton's criticism. I accept both the terms of the
supposed contradiction. I hold that when legitimately employed
both mechanism and teleology are naturalistic or empirical categories,
both valid, but both restricted, in their proper use, and both super-
seded in a hyper-logical mode of experience.
J. MARK BALDWIN.
6 AVENUE MATIGNON,
PARIS.
modes, ' ' exhibits no identity throughout the different stages of the process. '
On the contrary, the varying degrees of identity which it actually has for con-
sciousness serve as motive to the transformations of the ' sameness ' meaning,
as traced in my book in great detail, up to the logical judgment of identity (Vol.
I., chap. VIII., §3, and chap. IX., §5 ; Vol. II., chap. X.).
1 To the development of this point much of the third volume of the Genetic
Logic is to be devoted. In an article entitled ' Knowledge and Imagination,'
PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW, May, 1908, I have stated in outline the characters
in virtue of which aesthetic experience appears to discharge this office.
BF
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