The Principles of Psychology, Vols. 1-2

stance, the separate notice of any uniform hum in the car, or light in the eye, or weight of clothes on the body, though not one of them is in operative on the complexion of our feeling. This law, once granted, must be carried far beyond Hartley's point. Not only must each ob ject present itself to us integrally before it shells off into its qualities, but'the whole scene around us must disengage for us object after object from its still background by emergence and change ; and even our self-detachment from the world over against us must wait for the start of collision between the force we issue and that which we receive. To confine ourselves to the simplest case : when a red ivory ball, seen for the first time, has been withdrawn, it will leave a mental represen tation of itself, in which all that it simultaneously gave us will indistinguishably coexist. Let a white ball succeed to it ; now, and not before, will an attribute detach itself, and the color, by force of con trast, be shaken out into the foregronnd. Let the white ball be re placed by an egg : and this new difference will bring the form into notice from its previous slumber. And thus, that which began by being simply an object, cut out from the surrounding scene, becomes for us first a red object, and then a red round object ; and so on. In stead, therefore, of the qualities, as separately given, subscribing to gether and adding themselves up to present us with the object as their aggregate, the object is beforehand with them, and from its integrity delivers them out to our knowledge, one by one. In this disintegration, the primary nucleus never loses its substantive character or name ; whilst the difference which it throws off appears as a mere attribute, ex pressed by an adjective.

Hence it is that we are compelled to think of the object as having, not as being, its qualities ; and can never heartily admit the belief of any loose lot of attributes really fusing themselves into a tlting. The unity of the original whole is not felt to go to pieces and be resolved into the properties which it successively gives off ; it retains a residuary existence, which constitutes it a substance, as against the emerging quality, which is only its phenomenal predicate. Were it not for this perpetual process of differentiation of self from the world, of object from its scene, of attribute from object, no step of Abstraction could be taken ; no qualities could fall under our notice ; and had we ten thousand senses, they would all converge and meet in but one consciousness. But if this be so, it is an utter falsification of the order of nature to speak of sensations grouping themselves into aggregates, and so composing for us the objects of which we think ; and the whole language of the theory, in regard to the field of synchronous existences, is a direct inversion of the truth. Experience proceeds and intellect is trained, not by Association, but by Dissoci ation, not by reduction of pluralities of impression to one, but by the opening out of one into many ; and a true psychological history must expound itself in analytic rather than synthetic terms. Precisely those ideas — of Substance, of Mind, of Cause, of Space — which this system treats as infinitely complex, the last result of myriads of confluent ele-

ments, are in truth the residuary simplicities of consciousness, whose stability the eddies and currents of phenomenal experience have left undisturbed."* The truth is that Experience is trained by both associa tion and dissociation, and that psychology must be writ both in synthetic and in analytic terms. Our original sen sible totals are, on the one hand, subdivided by discrimi native attention, and, on the other, united with other totals, — either through the agency of our own movements, carrying our senses from one part of space to another, or because new objects come successively and replace those by which we were at first impressed. The ' simple impression ' of Hume, the ' simple idea ' of Locke are both abstractions, never realized in experience. Experience, from the very first, presents us with concreted objects, vaguely continuous with the rest of the world which envelops them in space and time, and potentially divisible into inward elements and parts. These objects we break asunder and reunite. We must treat them in both ways for our knowledge of them to grow ; and it is hard to say, on the whole, which way preponderates. But since the elements with which the traditional associationism performs its constructions — ' simple sensations,' namely — are all products of discrimi nation carried to a high pitch, it seems as if we ought to discuss the subject of analytic attention and discrimination first.

The noticing of any part whatever of our object is an act of discrimination. Already on p. 404 I have described the manner in which we often spontaneously lapse into the undiscriminating state, even with regard to objects which we have already learned to distinguish. Such anaesthetics as chloroform, nitrous oxide, etc., sometimes bring about transient lapses even more total, in which numerical dis crimination especially seems gone ; for one sees light and hears sound, but whether one or many lights and sounds is quite impossible to tell. Where the parts of an object have already been discerned, and each made the object of a special discriminative act, we can with difficulty feel the

* Essays Philosophical and Theological : First Series, pp. 268-273. object again in its pristine unity ; and so prominent may our consciousness of its composition be, that we may hardly believe that it ever could have appeared undivided. But this is an erroneous view, the undeniable fact being that any number of impressions, from any number of sensory sources, falling simultaneously on a mind WHICH HAS NOT YET EXPERI ENCED THEM SEPARATELY, will fuse into a single undivided ofejectfor that mind. The law is that all things fuse that can fuse, and nothing separates except what must. What makes impressions separate we have to study in this chapter. Although they separate easier if they come in through dis tinct nerves, yet distinct nerves are not an unconditional ground of their discrimination, as we shall presently see. The baby, assailed by eyes, ears, nose, skin, and entrails at once, feels it all as one great blooming, buzzing confu sion ; and to the very end of life, our location of all things in one space is due to the fact that the original extents or bignesses of all the sensations which came to our notice at once, coalesced together into one and the same space. There is no other reason than this why " the hand I touch and see coincides spatially with the hand I immediately feel."*

It is true that we may sometimes be tempted to exclaim, when once a lot of hitherto unnoticed details of the object lie before us, " How could we ever have been ignorant of these things and yet have felt the object, or drawn the conclusion, as if it were a continuum, a plenum ? There would have been gaps — but we felt no gaps ; wherefore we must have seen and heard these details, leaned upon these steps ; they must h#ve been operative upon our minds, just as they are now, only unconsciously, or at least inattentively. Our first unanalyzed sensation was really composed of these elementary sensa tions, our first rapid conclusion was really based on these intermediate inferences, all the while, only we failed to note the fact. ' * But this is nothing but the fatal ' psychologists fal lacy ' (p. 196) of treating an inferior state of mind as if it must somehow know implicitly all that is explicitly known

* Montgomery in 'Mind/x. 527. Of. also Lipps: Grundtatsachen des Seeleulebens, p, 579 if. ; and see below. Chapter XIX. about the &ame topic by superior states of mind. The thing thought of is unquestionably the same, but it is thought twice over in two absolutely different psychoses, — once as an unbroken unit, and again as a sum of discriminated parts. It is not one thought in two editions, but two entirely distinct thoughts of one thing. And each thought is within itself a wntinuum, & plenum, needing no contributions from the other to fill up its gaps. As I sit here, I think objects, and I make inferences, which the future is sure to analyze and articulate and riddle with discriminations, showing me many things wherever I now notice one. Nevertheless, my thought feels quite sufficient unto itself for the time being ; and ranges from pole to pole, as free, and as unconscious of having overlooked anything, as if it possessed the great est discriminative enlightenment. We all cease analyzing the world at some point, and notice no more differences. The last units with which we stop are our objective elements of being. Those of a dog are different from those of a Humboldt ; those of a practical man from those of a meta physician. But the dog's and the practical man's thoughts feel continuous, though to the Humboldt or the metaphy sician, they would appear full of gaps and defects. And they are continuous, as thoughts. It is only as mirrors of things that the superior minds find them full of omissions. And when the omitted things are discovered and the un noticed differences laid bare, it is not that the old thoughts split up, but that new thoughts supersede them, which make new judgments about the same objective world.

When we discriminate an element, we may contrast it with the case of its own absence, of its simply not being there, without reference to what is there ; or we may also take the latter into account. Let the first sort of discrim ination be called existential, the latter differential discrimina tion. A peculiarity of differential discriminations is that they result in a perception of differences which are felt as greater or less one than the other. Entire groups of differ ences may be ranged in series : the musical scale, the colof scale, are examples. Every department of our experience

may have its data written down in an evenly gradated order, from a lowest to a highest member. And any one datum may be a term in several such orders. A given note may have a high place in the pitch-series, a low place in the loudness-series, and a medium place in the series of agreeablenesses. A given tint must, in order to be fully deter mined, have its place assigned in the series of qualities, in the series of purities (freedom from white), and in the series of intensities or brightnesses. It may be low in one of these respects, but high in another. In passing from term to term in any such series we are conscious not only of each step of difference being equal to (or greater or less than) the last, but we are conscious of proceeding in a uniform direction, different from other possible directions. This consciousness of serial increase of differences is one of the fundamental facts of our intellectual life. More, more, MOKE, of the same kind of difference, we say, as we advance from term to term, and realize that the farther on we get the larger grows the breach between the term we are at and the one from which we started Between any two terms of such a series the difference is greater than that be tween any intermediate terms, or than that between an inter mediate term and either of the extremes. The louder than the loud is louder than the less loud ; the farther than the far is farther than the less far ; the earlier than the early is earlier than the late ; the higher than the high is higher than the low ; the bigger than the big is bigger than the small ; or, to put it briefly and universally, the more than the more is more than the less ; such is the great synthetic princifile of mediate comparison ivhich is involved in the posses^ sion by the human mind of the sense of serial increase.

In Chapter XXVIII we shall see the altogether overwhelming importance of this principle in the conduct of all our higher rational operations. Each of the differences in one of these uniform series feels like a definite sensible quantity, and each term seems like the last term with this quantity added. In many con crete objects which differ from one another we can plainly see that tbe difference does consist simply in the fact that one object is the same as the other plus something else, or that they both have an identical part, to which each adds a distinct remainder. Thus two pictures may be struck from the same block, but one of them may differ in having color adtlecl ; or two carpets may show an identical pattern which in each is woven in distinct hues. Similarly, two classes of sensation may have the same emotional tone but negate each other in remaining respects — a dark color and a deep sound, for example ; or two faces may have the same sh; ,pe of nose but everything else unlike. The similarity of the same note sounded by instruments of different tim bre is explained by the coexistence of a fundamental tone common to both, with over-tones in one which the other lacks. Dipping my hand into water and anon into a colder water. 1 may then observe certain additional feelings, broader and deeper irradiations of the cold, so to speak, which were not in the earlier experience, though for aught I can tell, the feelings may be otherwise the same. 'Hefting' first one woight, and then another, new feelings may start out in m.'y elbow-joint, wrist, and elsewhere, and make me call the second weight the heavier of the twain. In all these cases each of the differing things may be represented by two parts, one that is common to it and the others, and an other that is peculiar to itself. If they form a series, A, B, C, D, etc., and the common part be called X, whilst the lowest difference be called d, then the composition of the series would be as follows :

If X itself were ultimately composed of cf s we should have the entire series explained as due to the varying com bination and re-combination with itself of an unvarying ele ment ; and all the apparent differences of quality would "be translated into differences of quantity alone. This is the sort of reduction which the atomic theory in physics and the mind-stuff theory in psychology regard as their ideal. So that, following the analogy of our instances, one might easily be tempted to generalize and to say that all difference is but addition and subtraction, and that what we called ' differential ' discrimination is only ' existential ' discrimina tion in disguise ; that is to say, that where A and B differ, we merely discern something in the one which the other is without. Absolute identity in tilings up to a certain point, then absolute non-identity, would on this theory take the place of those ultimate qualitative unlikenesses between them, in which we naturally believe ; and the mental func tion of discrimination, ceasing to be regarded as an ultimate one, would resolve itself into mere logical affirmation and negation, or perception that a feature found in one thing, in another does not exist.

Theoretically, however, this theory is full of difficulty. If all the differences which we feel were in one direction, so that all objects could be arranged in one series (how ever long), it might still work. But when we consider the notorious fact that objects differ from each other in divergent directions, it grows well nigh impossible to make it do so. For then, supposing that an object differed from things in one direction by the increment d, it would have to differ from things in another direction by a different sort of incre ment, call it d'\ so that, after getting rid of qualitative unlikeness between objects, we should have it back on our hands again between their increments. We may of course re-apply our method, and say that the difference between d and d' is not a qualitative unlikeuess, but a fact of com position, one of them being the same as the other plus an increment of still higher order, S for example, added. But when we recollect that eventhing in the world can be com pared with everything else, and that the number of direc tions of difference is indefinitely great, then we see that the complication of self-compoundiugs of the ultimate differen tial increment by which, on this theory, all the innumerable unlikenesses of the world are explained, in order to avoid writing any of them down as ultimate differences of kind, would beggar all conception. It is the mind-dust theory.

with all its difficulties in a particularly uncompromising form ; and all for the sake of the fantastic pleasure of being able arbitrarily to say that there is between the things in the world and between the 'ideas' in the mind nothing but absolute sameness and absolute not-sameness of elements the not-sameness admitting no degrees. To me it seems much -wiser to turn away from such transcendental extravagances of speculation, and to abide by the natural appearances. These would leave unlikeness as an indecomposable relation amongst things, and a rela tion moreover of which there were all degrees. Absolute not-sameness would be the maximal degree, absolute same ness the minimal degree of this unlikeness, the discernment of which would be one of our ultimate cognitive powers.* Certainly the natural appearances are dead against the notion that no qualitative differences exist. With the same clear ness with which, in certain objects, we do feel a difference to be a mere matter of plus and minus, in other objects we feel that this is not the case. Contrast our feeling of the differ ence between the length of two lines with our feeling of the difference between blue and yellow, or with that between right and left. Is right equal to left with something added ? Is blue yellow plus something ? If so, plus what ?f So long as we stick to verifiable psychology, ice are forced to admit that differences of simple KIND form an irreducible sort of relation between some of the elements of our experi ence, and forced to deny that differential discrimination

* Stumpf (Tonpsychologie, I. 116 ff.) tries to prove that the theory that all differences are differences of composition leads necessarily to an infinite regression when we try to determine the unit. It seems to me that in his particular reasoning he forgets the ultimate units of the mind-stuff theory. I cannot find the completed infinite to be one of the obstacles to belief in this theory, although I fully accept Stumpf 's general reasoning, and am only too happy to find myself on the same side with such an ex ceptionally clear thinker. The strictures by Wahle in the Vierteljsch. f. wiss. Phil, seem to me to have no force, since the writer does not dis criminate between resemblance of things obviously compound and that of things sensibly simple.

f The belief that the causes of effects felt by us to differ qualitatively are facts which differ only in quantity (e.g. that blue is caused by so many etherwaves, and yellow by a smaller number) must not be confounded with the feeling that the effects differ quantitatively themselves. can everywhere be reduced to the mere ascertainment that elements present in one fact, in another fail to exist. The perception that an element exists in one thing and does not exist in another and the perception of qualitative differ ence are, in short, entirely disconnected mental functions.* But at the same time that we insist on this, we must also admit that differences of quality, however abundant, are not the only distinctions with which our mind has to deal. Differences which seem of mere composition, of number, of plus and minus, also abound, t But it will be best for the present to disregard all these quantitative cases and, taking the others (which, by the least favorable calculation, will still be numerous enough), to consider next the manner in ivhich we come to cognize simple differences of kind. We cannot explain the cognition ; we can only as certain the conditions by virtue of which it occurs.

What, then, are the conditions under which we discriminate things differing in a simple way ? First, the things must BE different, either in time, or place, or quality. If the difference in any of these regards is sufficiently great, then we cannot overlook it, except by not noticing the things at all. No one can help singling out a black stripe on a wrhite ground, or feeling the contrast between a bass note and a high one sounded immediately after it. Discrimination is here involuntary. But where the objective difference is less, discrimination need not so inevitably occur, and may even require considerable effort of attention to be performed at all.

* Herr G. H. Schneider, in his youthful pamphlet (Die Unterscheidung, 1877) has tried to show that there are no positively existent elements of sensibility, no substantive qualities between which differences obtain, but that the terms we call such, the sensations, are but sums of differences, loci or starting points whence many directions of difference proceed. ' TJjiterscJiiedsempfindungs-Complexe ' are what he calls them. This absurd carrying out of that ' principle of relativity ' which we shall have to men tion in Chapter XVII may serve as a counterpoise to the mind-stuff theory, which says that there are nothing but substantive sensations, and denies the existence of relations of difference between them at all.

Another condition which then favors it is that the sen sations excited by the differing objects should not come to us simultaneously but fall in immediate SUCCESSION upon the same organ. It is easier to compare successive than simul taneous sounds, easier to compare two weights or two tem peratures by testing one after the other with the same hand, than by using both hands and comparing both at once. Similarly it is easier to discriminate shades of light or color by moving the eye from one to the other, so that they suc cessively stimulate the same retinal tract. In testing the local discrimination of the skin, by applying compasspoints, it is found that they are felt to touch different spots much more readily when set down one after the other than when both are applied at once. In the latter case they may be two or three inches apart on the back, thighs, etc., and still feel as if they were set down in one spot. Finally, in the case of smell and taste it is well-nigh impossible to compare simultaneous impressions at all. The reason why successive impression so much favors the result seems to be that there is a real sensation of difference, aroused by the shock of transition from one perception to another which is unlike the first. This sensation of difference has its own peculiar quality, as difference, which remains sensible, no matter of what sort the terms may be, between which it obtains. It is, in short, one of those transitive feelings, or feelings of relation, of which I treated in a former place (pp. 245 if.); and, when once aroused, its object lingers in the memory along with the substantive terms which precede and follow, and enables our judgments of comparison to be made.

We shall soon see reason to believe that no two terms can possibly be simultaneously perceived to differ, unless, in a preliminary operation, we have suc cessively attended to each, and, in so doing, had the transi tional sensation of difference between them aroused. A field of consciousness, however complex, is never analyzed unless some of its ingredients have changed. We now discern, 'tis true, a multitude of coexisting things about us at every moment : but this is because we have had a long education, and each thing we now see distinct has been already differentiated from its neighbors by repeated

appearances in successive order. To the infant, sounds, sights, touches, and pains, form probably one unanalyzed bloom of confusion.* Where the difference between the successive sensations is but slight, the transition between them must be made as immediate as possible, and both must be compared in mem ory, in order to get the best results. One cannot judge accurately of the difference between two similar wines, whilst the second is still in one's mouth. So of sounds, warmths, etc. — we must get the dying phases of both sen sations of the pair we are comparing. Where, however, the difference is strong, this condition is immaterial, and we can then compare a sensation actually felt with another carried in memory only. The longer the interval of time between the sensations, the more uncertain is their discrim ination.

The difference, thus immediately felt between two terms, is independent of our ability to identify either of the terms by itself. I can feel two distinct spots to be touched on my skin, yet not know which is above and which below. I can observe two neighboring musical tones to differ, and still not know which of the two is the higher in pitch. Similarly I may discriminate two neighboring tints, whilst remaining uncertain which is the bluer or the yellower, or hoio either differs from its mate.f

With such direct perceptions of difference as this, we must not confound those entirely unlike cases in which we infer that two things must differ because we know enough about each of them taken by itself to warrant our classing * The ordinary treatment of this is to call it the result of the fusion of a lot of sensations, in themselves separate. This is pure mythology, as the sequel will abundantly show. f " We often begin to be dimly aware of a difference in a sensation or group of sensations, before we can assign any definite character to that which differs. Thus we detect a strange or foreign ingredient or flavor in a familiar dish, or of tone in a familiar tune, and yet are wholly unable for a while to say what the intruder is like. Hence perhaps discrimination may be regarded as the earliest and most primordial mode of intellectual activity." (Sully : Outlines of Psychology, p. 142. Cf. also G. H. Schneider: Die Unterscheid ting, pp. 9-10.)

them under distinct heads. It often happens, when the interval is long between two experiences, that our judg ments are guided, not so much by a positive image or copy of the earlier one, as by our recollection of certain facts about it. Thus I know that the sunshine to-day is less bright than on a certain day last week, because I then said it was quite dazzling, a remark I should not now care to make. Or I know myself to feel better now than I was last summer, because I can now psychologize, and then I could not. We are constantly busy comparing feelings with whose quality our imagination has no sort of acquaintance at the time — pleasures, or pains, for example. It is notori ously hard to conjure up in imagination a lively image of either of these classes of feeling. The associationists may prate of an idea of pleasure being a pleasant idea, of an idea of pain being a painful one, but the unsophisticated sense of mankind is against them, agreeing with Homer that the memory of griefs when past may be a joy, and with Dante that there is no greater sorrow than, in misery, to recollect one's happier time.

Feelings remembered in this imperfect way must be compared with present or recent feelings by the aid of what we know about them. We identify the remote experience in such a case by conceiving it. The most perfect way of conceiving it is by denning it in terms of some standard scale. If I know the thermometer to stand at zero to-day and to have stood at 32° last Sunday, I know to-day to be colder, and I know just how much colder, than it was last Sunday. If I know that a certain note was c, and that this note is d, I know that this note must be the higher of the two.

The inference that two things differ because their con comitants, effects, names, kinds, or — to put it generally— their signs, differ, is of course susceptible of unlimited complication. The sciences furnish examples, in the way in which men are led, by noticing differences in effects, to assume new hypothetical causes, differing from any known heretofore. But no matter how many may be the steps by which such inferential discriminations are made, they all end in a direct intuition of difference, someivhere. The last

ground for inferring that A and B differ must be that, whilst A is an w, B is an n, and that m and n are seen to differ. Let us then neglect the complex cases, the A's and the B's, and go back to the study of the unanalyzable per ception of difference between their signs, the m's and the w's, when these are seemingly simple terms. I said that in their immediate succession the shock of their difference was felt. It is felt repeatedly when we go back and forth from m to n ; and we make a point of get ting it thus repeatedly (by alternating our attention at least) whenever the shock is so slight as to be with difficulty per ceived. But in addition to being felt at the brief instant of transition, the difference also feels as if incorporated and taken up into the second term, which feels ' difterentfrom-the-first ' even while it lasts. It is obvious that the ' second term ' of the mind in this case is not bald n, but a very complex object ; and that the sequence is not sim ply first 'm,' then 'difference,' then 'n'; but first ' m,' then 'difference,' then ' n- differ ent-from-m.' The several thoughts, however, to which these three several objects are revealed, are three ordinary ' segments ' of the mental * stream.*

As our brains and minds are actually made, it is impos sible to get certain m's and w's in immediate sequence and to keep them pure. If kept pure, it would mean that they remained uncompared. With us, inevitably, by a mechan ism which we as yet fail to understand, the shock of differ ence is felt between them, and the second object is not n pure, but n-as-different-from-m* It is no more a paradox that under these conditions this cognition of m and n in mutual relation should occur, than that under other condi tions the cognition of m's or TI'S simple quality should occur. But as it has been treated as a paradox, and as a spiritual agent, not itself a portion of the stream, has been

* In cases where the difference is slight, we may need, as previously remarked, to get the dying phase of n as well as of m before n-differentfrom-m is distinctly felt. In that case the inevitably successive feelings (as far as we can sever what is so continuous) would be four, m, difference, n, n-different-from-m. This slight additional complication alters not a whit the essential features of the case. invoked to account for it, a word of further remark seems desirable.

My account, it will be noted, is merely a description of the facts as they occur : feelings (or thoughts) each know ing something, but the later one knowing, if preceded by a certain earlier one, a more complicated object than it would have known had the earlier one not been there. I offer no explanation of such a sequence of cognitions. The explanation (I devoutly expect) will be found some day to depend on cerebral conditions. Until it is forthcoming, we can only treat the sequence as a special case of the general law that every experience undergone by the brain leaves in it a modification which is one factor in determining what manner of experiences the following ones shall be (cf. pp. 232-236). To anyone who denies the possibility of such a law I have nothing to say, until he brings his proofs.

The sensationalists and the spiritualists meanwhile (filled both of them with their notion that the mind must in some fashion contain what it knows) begin by giving a crooked account of the facts. Both admit that for m and n to be known in any way whatever, little rounded and fin ished off duplicates of each must be contained in the mind as separate entities. These pure ideas, so called, of m and n respectively, succeed each other there. And since they are distinct, say the sensationalists, they are eo ipso distin guished. " To have ideas different and ideas distinguished, are synonymous expressions ; different and distinguished meaning exactly the same thing," says James Mill.* "Dis tinguished!" say the spiritualists, "distinguished l>y ivhat, forsooth ? Truly the respective ideas of m and of n in the mind are distinct. But for that very reason neither can distinguish itself from the other, for to do that it would have to be aware of the other, and thus for the time being become the other, and that would be to get mixed up with the other and to lose its own distinctness. Distinctness of ideas and idea of distinctness, are not one thing, but two. This last is a relation. Only a relating principle, op posed in nature to all facts of feeling, an Ego, Soul, or