X. HEARING IN THE FROG.
A. Influences of Sounds in the Laboratory.
After determining the simple reaction time of the green frog to
tactual and electrical stimulation, I attempted to do the same in case
of auditory stimuli. In this I was unsuccessful because of failure to
get the animal to give a motor response which could be recorded. The
animal was placed in an experimenting box with a string attached to
one hind leg as in the experiments described in Part II., and after it
had become accustomed to the situation a sound was made. A wide range
of sounds were tried, but to none except the croak of another frog was
a motor reaction frequently given. Even a loud noise, such as the
explosion of a large pistol cap, caused a visible motor reaction only
in rare cases. In fifty trials with this stimulus I succeeded in
getting three reactions, and since all of them measured between 230
and 240[sigma] it is perhaps worth while to record the result as
indicative of the auditory reaction time. As these were the only
measurements obtained, I have no satisfactory basis for the comparison
of auditory with other reaction times.
The remarkable inhibition of movement shown by the frog in the
presence of strong auditory stimulation, at least what is for the
human being a strong stimulus, led me to inquire concerning the limits
and delicacy of the sense of hearing in frogs. In the vast quantity of
literature on the structure and functions of the sense organs of the
animal I have been able to find only a few casual remarks concerning
hearing.
In approaching the problem of frog audition we may first examine the
structure of the ear for the purpose of ascertaining what sounds are
likely to affect the organ. There is no outer ear, but the membrana
tympani, or ear drum, covered with skin, appears as a flat disc from 5
to 10 mm. in diameter on the side of the head just back of the eye and
a little below it. In the middle ear there is but one bone, the
columella, forming the connecting link between the tympanum and the
internal ear. The inner ear, which contains the sense organs,
consists of a membranous bag, the chief parts of which are the
utriculus, the sacculus, the lagena, and the three semicircular
canals. The cavity of this membranous labyrinth is filled with a
fluid, the endolymph; and within the utriculus, sacculus and lagena
are masses of inorganic matter called the otoliths. The auditory nerve
terminates in eight sense organs, which contain hair cells. There is
no cochlea as in the mammalian ear. The assumption commonly made is
that vibrations in the water or air by direct contact cause the
tympanic membrane to vibrate; this in turn causes a movement of the
columella, which is transmitted to the perilymphatic fluid of the
inner ear. The sensory hair cells are disturbed by the movements of
the otoliths in the endolymph, and thus an impulse is originated in
the auditory nerve which results in a sensation more or less
resembling our auditory sensation. It is quite probable that the
frog's sense of hearing is very different from ours, and that it is
affected only by gross air vibrations. This conclusion the anatomy of
the ear supports.
Although there does not seem to be a structural basis for a delicate
sense of hearing, one must examine the physiological facts at hand
before concluding that frogs do not possess a sense of hearing similar
to our own. First, the fact that frogs make vocal sounds is evidence
in favor of the hearing of such sounds at least, since it is difficult
to explain the origin of the ability to make a sound except through
its utility to the species. Granting, however, that a frog is able to
hear the croaks or pain-screams of its own species, the range of the
sense still remains very small, for although the race of frogs makes a
great variety of sounds, any one species croaks within a narrow range.
Having satisfied myself that motor reactions for reaction-time
measurements could not be gotten to any ordinary sounds in the
laboratory, I tried the effect of the reflex croaking of another frog
of the same species. In attempting to get frogs to croak regularly, I
tested the effect of removing the brain. The animals are said to croak
reflexly after this operation whenever the back is stroked; but for
some reason I have never been successful in getting the reaction
uniformly. In many cases I was able to make normal animals croak by
rubbing the back or flanks, and to this sound the animals under
observation occasionally responded by taking what looked like an
attitude of attention. They straightened up and raised the head as if
listening. In no case have other motor responses been noticed; and the
above response was so rare that no reaction-time measurements could be
made.
Again, while working with the green frog on habit formation, I one day
placed two animals in a labyrinth from which they could escape by
jumping into a tank of water. Several times when one frog jumped into
the water I noticed the other one straighten up and hold the
'listening' or 'attentive' attitude for some seconds. As the animals
could not see one another this is good evidence of their ability to
hear the splash made by a frog when it strikes the water.
B. Influence of Sounds in Nature.
In order to learn how far fear and artificial conditions were causes
of the inhibition of response to sounds in the laboratory, and how far
the phenomenon was indicative of the animal's inability to perceive
sounds, I observed frogs in their native haunts.
By approaching a pond quietly, it is easy to get within a few yards of
frogs sitting on the banks. In most cases they will not jump until
they have evidence of being noticed. Repeatedly I have noted that it
is never possible to get near to any frogs in the same region after
one has jumped in. In this we have additional proof that they hear the
splash-sound. To make sure that sight was not responsible for this
on-guard condition in which one finds the frogs after one of their
number has jumped into the water, I made observations on animals that
were hidden from one another. The results were the same. I therefore
conclude that the splash of a frog jumping into the water is not only
perceived by other frogs in the vicinity, but that it is a peculiarly
significant sound for them, since it is indicative of danger, and
serves to put them 'on watch.'
A great variety of sounds, ranging in pitch from a low tone in
imitation of the bull frog's croak to a shrill whistle, and in
loudness from the fall of a pebble to the report of a pistol, were
tried for the purpose of testing their effects upon the animals in
their natural environment. To no sound have I ever seen a motor
response given. One can approach to within a few feet of a green frog
or bull frog and make all sorts of noises without causing it to give
any signs of uneasiness. Just as soon, however, as a quick movement is
made by the observer the animal jumps. I have repeatedly crept up very
close to frogs, keeping myself screened from them by bushes or trees,
and made various sounds, but have never succeeded in scaring an animal
into a motor response so long as I was invisible. Apparently they
depend almost entirely upon vision for the avoidance of dangers.
Sounds like the splash of a plunging frog or the croak or pain-scream
of another member of the species serve as warnings, but the animals do
not jump into the water until they see some sign of an unusual or
dangerous object. On one occasion I was able to walk to a spot where a
large bull frog was sitting by the edge of the water, after the frogs
about it had plunged in. This individual, although it seemed to be on
the alert, let me approach close to it. I then saw that the eye turned
toward me was injured. The animal sat still, despite the noise I made,
simply because it was unable to see me; as soon as I brought myself
within the field of vision of the functional eye the frog was off like
a flash.
Many observers have told me that frogs could hear the human voice and
that slight sounds made by a passer-by would cause them to stop
croaking. In no case, however, have such observers been able to assert
that the animals were unaffected by visual stimuli at the same time. I
have myself many times noticed the croaking stop as I approached a
pond, but could never be certain that none of the frogs had seen me.
It is a noteworthy fact that when one frog in a pond begins to croak
the others soon join it. Likewise, when one member of such a chorus is
frightened and stops the others become silent. This indicates that the
cessation of croaking is a sign of danger and is imitated just as is
the croaking. There is in this fact conclusive evidence that the
animals hear one another, and the probability is very great that they
hear a wide range of sounds to which they give no motor reactions,
since they do not depend upon sound for escaping their enemies.
The phenomenon of inhibition of movement in response to sounds which
we have good reason to think the frogs hear, and to which such an
animal as a turtle or bird would react by trying to escape, is thus
shown to be common for frogs in nature as well as in the laboratory.
This inhibition is in itself not surprising, since many animals
habitually escape certain of their enemies by remaining motionless,
but it is an interesting phenomenon for the physiologist. We have to
inquire, for instance, what effects sounds which stimulate the
auditory organs and cause the animal to become alert, watchful, yet
make it remain rigidly motionless, have on the primary organic rhythms
of the organism, such as the heart-beat, respiration, and peristalsis.
It is also directly in the line of our investigation to inquire how
they affect reflex movements, or the reaction time for any other
stimulus--what happens to the reaction time for an electrical
stimulus, for example, if a loud noise precede or accompany the
electrical stimulus.
For the purpose of determining the range of hearing in the frog, I was
driven to study the influence of sounds upon respiration. Although the
animals did not make any detectable movement, not even of an eyelid,
in response to noises, it seemed not improbable that if the sounds
acted as auditory stimuli at all, they would in some degree modify the
form or rate of the respiratory movement.
C. Influence of Sounds on Respiration.[16]
[16] For full discussion of the normal respiratory movements of
the frog see Martin, _Journal of Physiology,_ Vol. 1., 1878,
pp. 131-170.
The method of recording the respiration was the direct transference of
the movement of the throat by means of a pivoted lever, one end of
which rested against the throat, while the other served as a marker on
a revolving drum carrying smoked paper. The frog was put into a small
box, visual stimuli were, so far as possible, excluded and the lever
was adjusted carefully; a record was then taken for at least half a
minute to determine the normal rate of respiration in the absence of
the stimulus whose effect it was the chief purpose of the experiment
to discover. Then, as soon as everything was running smoothly, the
auditory stimulus was given. The following records indicate the
effects of a few stimuli upon the rate of breathing:
1. Stimulus, 100 V. tuning fork.
Number of respirations for 10 cm. _before_ stimulus 18.0, 17.0; number
of respirations for 10 cm. _after_ stimulus 19.0, 17.3.
The records indicate very little change, and contradict one another.
For the same stimulus the experiment was tried of taking the normal
respiration record for a complete revolution of the drum, and then at
once taking the record for the same length of time (about two minutes)
with the tuning-fork vibrating close to the frog. The following result
is typical and proves that the sound has little effect.
Number of respirations in a revolution _before_ stimulus: First rev.
88; second rev. 88. Number of respirations in a revolution _during_
stimulus: First rev. 87; second rev. 88.
Concerning the influence of tuning-fork stimuli more will be said
later in a consideration of the effects of auditory stimuli upon
reactions to visual stimuli.
2. The influence of falling water as an auditory stimulus. Water was
allowed to fall about two feet in imitation, first, of a plunging
frog, and second, of water falling over rocks. In representing the
effect of the stimulus on the rate of respiration, I have given the
distance on the drum covered by the ten complete respirations just
preceding the stimulus and the ten following it.
10 Respirations. 10 Respirations.
_Before_ Stimulus. _After_ Stimulus.
1st Stim. 13.0 cm. 11.8 cm.
2d Stim. 12.7 cm. 12.7 cm.
With a smaller animal.
1st Stim. 5.4 cm. 4.8 cm.
2d Stim. 4.9 cm. 4.7 cm.
Average for 5 5.00 cm. 4.86 cm.
_These records show a marked increase in the rate of respiration just
after the auditory stimulus is given for the first time._ The stimulus
has less effect when repeated after an interval of one or two minutes,
and if repeated several times it finally causes no noticeable change.
On the whole, the sound of falling water seems to arouse the animals
to fuller life. The stimulus appears to interest them, and it
certainly accelerates respiration. This is precisely what one would
expect from a sound which is of special significance in the life of
the animal.
3. In case of a loud shrill whistle inhibition of respiration
resulted. This probably means that the frogs were frightened by the
sound. Falling water served rather to excite their natural-habitat
associations, whereas, the whistle, being an uncommon and unassociated
sound, caused fear. It is evident to the casual observer that the frog
sometimes inhibits and sometimes increases its respiratory movements
when frightened, so the result in this experiment is in no way
surprising. I am by no means certain, however, that a longer series of
observations on several individuals would give constant inhibitory
results. My immediate purpose in the work was to get evidence of
hearing; the respiratory changes were of secondary importance,
although of such great interest that I have planned a more thorough
special study of them for the future.
A few sample results showing the influence of the whistle upon a small
bull-frog follow:
Length of 10 Resps. Length of 10 Resps.
_Before_ Stimulus in cm. _After_ Stimulus in cm.
1st Stim. 6.0 6.7
2d " 5.4 6.0
3d " 5.9 5.8
1st " 4.7 5.4
2d " 4.4 4.6
As a test-check observation for comparison, the influence of a visual
stimulus upon respiration was noted under the same conditions as for
the auditory. Effect of turning on electric light over box.
Length in cm. of 10 Resps. Length in cm. of 10 Resps.
_Before_ Stimulus. _After_ Stimulus.
4.8 4.4
5.3 4.6
4.5 4.0
These results indicate an increase in the respiration rate due to the
visual stimulus.
4. Of the other auditory stimuli used, the pistol-cap explosion gave
very irregular results. For one animal it caused acceleration, for
another inhibition. There is, however, good evidence that the sounds
were heard.
5. The ringing of a bell gave results similer to those for a whistle,
and the sound of a 500 S.V. tuning fork usually caused a slight
increase in the rate of breathing. In these experiments I therefore
have evidence, through their effects upon respiration, of the frog's
ability to hear sounds ranging from 50 V. to at least 1,000 V.
The croak of the green frog ranges from 100 to 200 V., so far as I
have been able to determine. That of the bull frog is lower, from 50
to 75; and in the leopard frog the range is from 80 to 125. The latter
is very different from the green frog in its croaking, in that it
croaks whenever disturbed, whereas, the green frog rarely responds in
that way to a stimulus.
We are now in a position to say that the failure of frogs to give
motor reactions to strong auditory stimuli is not due to their
inability to be affected by the stimuli, but is a genuine inhibition
phenomenon.
XI. THE EFFECTS OF AUDITORY STIMULI ON VISUAL REACTIONS.
Further experimental evidence of hearing was gotten from some work
done to test the influence of sounds upon motor reactions to visual
stimuli. Frogs, like most other amphibians, reptiles and fishes, are
attracted by any small moving object and usually attempt to seize it.
They never, so far as I have noticed, feed upon motionless objects,
but, on the other hand, will take almost anything which moves.
Apparently the visual stimulus of movement excites a reflex. A very
surprising thing to those who are unfamiliar with frog habits is the
fear which small frogs have of large ones. Put some green frogs or
small bull frogs into a tank with large bull frogs, and the little
ones will at once show signs of extreme fear; they jump about in the
most excited manner and try hard to escape. The cause of their fear
soon appears, since it is usually only a few minutes until the little
ones are swallowed by their wide-mouthed, cannibalistic fellows.
It is, moreover, well known that a bit of red flannel fastened to a
hook attracts frogs and is an excellent method of capturing them. Red
seems to be the color which they most readily notice.
This tendency of the frog to attempt to seize any moving object I made
use of to test the value of sounds. By placing a frog in a glass
aquarium which was surrounded by a screen, back of which I could work
and through a small hole in which I was able to watch the animal
without being noticed by it, and then moving a bit of red cardboard
along one side of the aquarium, I could get the frog to jump at it
repeatedly. In each attempt to get the moving object, the animal
struck its head forcibly against the glass side of the aquarium. There
was, therefore, reason to think that a few trials would lead to the
inhibition of the reaction. Experiment discovered the fact that a
hungry frog would usually jump at the card as many as twenty times in
rapid succession.
In this reaction to a visual stimulus there appeared good material for
testing audition. I therefore arranged a 500 S.V. tuning fork over the
aquarium and compared the reactions of animals to the visual stimulus
alone, with that to the visual stimulus when accompanied by an
auditory stimulus. The tuning-fork sound was chosen because it seemed
most likely to be significant to the frog. It is similar to the sounds
made by the insects upon which frogs feed. For this reason one would
expect that the sight of a moving object and the sound of a
tuning-fork would tend to reënforce one another.
The experiments were begun with observations on the effects of moving
objects on the respiration. In case of a normal rate of 54
respirations per minute sight of the red object caused an increase to
58. Then the same determination was made for the auditory stimulus.
The tuning-fork usually caused an increase in rate. In a typical
experiment it was from 65 per minute to 76. The observations prove
conclusively that the 500 S.V. sound is heard. My attention was turned
to the difference of the environment of the ear in its relation to
hearing. Apparently frogs hear better when the tympanum is partially
under water than when it is fully exposed to the air.
Having discovered by repeated trials about how vigorously and
frequently a frog would react to the moving red card, I tried the
effect of setting the fork in vibration a half minute before showing
the card. It was at once evident that the sound put the frog on the
alert, and, when the object came into view, it jumped at it more
quickly and a greater number of times than when the visual stimulus
was given without the auditory. This statement is based on the study
of only two animals, since I was unable to get any other frogs that
were in the laboratory at the time to take notice of the red
cardboard. This was probably because of the season being winter. I
venture to report the results simply because they were so definite as
to point clearly to the phenomenon of the reënforcement of the
visual-stimulus reaction by an auditory stimulus.
Concerning the influence of this combining of stimuli on the reaction
time, I am only able to say that the reaction to the moving object
occurred quicker in the presence of the auditory stimulus. When the
red card was shown it was often several seconds before the frog would
notice it and attempt to get it, but when the sound also was given the
animal usually noticed and jumped toward the moving card almost
immediately.
Unfortunately I have thus far been unable to get chronoscopic
measurements of the reaction times in this reënforcement phenomenon. I
hope later to be able to follow out the interesting suggestions of
these few experiments in the study of reënforcement and inhibition as
caused by simultaneously given stimuli.
A few observations made in connection with these experiments are of
general interest. The frog, when it first sees a moving object,
usually draws the nictitating membrane over the eye two or three times
as if to clear the surface for clearer vision. Frequently this action
is the only evidence available that the animal has noticed an object.
This movement of the eye-lids I have noticed in other amphibians and
in reptiles under similar conditions, and since it always occurs when
the animals have need of the clearest possible vision, I think the
above interpretation of the action is probably correct.
Secondly, the frog after getting a glimpse of an object orients
itself by turning its head towards the object, and then waits for a
favorable chance to spring. The aiming is accurate, and as previously
stated the animal is persistent in its attempts to seize an object.
XII. THE PAIN-SCREAM OF FROGS.
While making measurements of the frog's reaction time to electrical
stimulation, I noticed that after a few repetitions of a 2-volt,
.0001-ampère stimulus an animal would frequently make a very peculiar
noise. The sound is a prolonged scream, like that of a child, made by
opening the mouth widely. The ordinary croak and grunt are made with
closed or but slightly opened mouth. The cry at once reminds one of
the sounds made by many animals when they are frightened. The rabbit,
for example, screams in much the same way when it is caught, as do
also pigs, dogs, rats, mice and many other animals. The question
arises, is this scream indicative of pain? While studying reaction
time I was able to make some observations on the relation of the
scream to the stimulus.
First, the scream is not given to weak stimuli, even upon many
repetitions. Second, it is given to such strengths of an electrical
stimulus as are undoubtedly harmful to the animal. Third, after a frog
has been stimulated with a strong current (two volts), until the
scream is given with almost every repetition, it will scream in the
same way when even a weak stimulus is applied. If, for instance, after
a two-volt stimulus has been given a few times, the animal be merely
touched with a stick, it will scream. It thus appears as if the strong
stimulus increases the irritability of the center for the
scream-reflex to such an extent that even weak stimuli are sufficient
to cause the reaction. Are we to say that the weak stimulus is painful
because of the increased irritability, or may it be concluded that the
reflex is in this case, like winking or leg-jerk or the head-lowering
and puffing, simply a forced movement, which is to be explained as an
hereditary protective action, but not as necessarily indicative of any
sort of feeling. Clearly if we take this stand it may at once be said
that there is no reason to believe the scream indicative of pain at
any time. And it seems not improbable that this is nearer the truth
than one who hears the scream for the first time is likely to think.
The pain-scream is of interest in this consideration of auditory
reactions because it increases the range of sounds which we should
expect frogs to hear if we grant the probability of them hearing their
own voices.
It may be worth while to recall at this point the fact that a whistle
from the human lips--the nearest approach to the pain-scream among the
sounds which were used as stimuli in the experiments on
respiration--caused marked inhibition of respiration. Perhaps this
fact may be interpreted in the light of the pain-scream reaction. I
may add that I have never seen a frog give a motor reaction to the
pain-scream. Thinking it would certainly alarm the animals and cause
them to make some movement which would serve for reaction-time
measurements, I made repeated trials of its effects, but could never
detect anything except respiratory changes.
* * * * *
STUDIES IN PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY.
* * * * *
THE POSITION OF PSYCHOLOGY IN THE SYSTEM OF KNOWLEDGE.
BY HUGO MÜNSTERBERG.
The modern efforts to bring all sciences into a system or at least to
classify them, from Bacon to Spencer, Wundt and Pearson have never, if
we abstract here from Hegel, given much attention to those questions
of principle which are offered by the science of psychology. Of course
the psychological separation of different mental functions has often
given the whole scheme for the system, the classification thus being
too often more psychological than logical. Psychology itself,
moreover, has had for the most part a dignified position in the
system; even when it has been fully subordinated to the biological
sciences, it was on the other hand placed superior to the totality of
mental and moral sciences, which then usually have found their unity
under the positivistic heading 'sociology.' And where the independent
position of psychology is acknowledged and the mental and moral
sciences are fully accredited, as for instance with Wundt, psychology
remains the fundamental science of all mental sciences; the objects
with which philology, history, economics, politics, jurisprudence,
theology deal are the products of the processes with which psychology
deals, and philology, history, theology, etc., are thus related to
psychology, as astronomy, geology, zoölogy are related to physics.
There is thus nowhere a depreciation of psychology, and yet it is not
in its right place. Such a position for psychology at the head of all
'Geisteswissenschaften' may furnish a very simple classification for
it, but it is one which cannot express the difficult character of
psychology and the complex relations of the system of mental sciences.
The historical and philological and theological sciences cannot be
subordinated to psychology if psychology as science is to be
coördinated with physics, that is, if it is a science which describes
and explains the psychical objects in the way in which physics
describes and explains the physical objects. On the other hand, if it
means in this central position of mental sciences a science which does
not consider the inner life as an object, but as subjective activity
needing to be interpreted and subjectively understood, not as to its
elements, but as to its meaning, then we should have two kinds of
psychology, one which explains and one which interprets. They would
speak of different facts, the one of the inner life as objective
content of consciousness, as phenomenon, the other of the inner life
as subjective attitude, as purpose.
The fact is, that these two sciences exist to-day. There are
psychologists who recognize both and keep them separated, others who
hold to the one or the other as the only possible view; they are
phenomenalists or voluntarists. Mostly both views are combined, either
as psychological voluntarism with interposed concessions to
phenomenalism or as phenomenalism with the well-known concessions to
voluntarism at the deciding points. Further, those who claim that
psychology must be phenomenalistic--and that is the opinion of the
present writer--do not on that account hold that the propositions of
voluntarism are wrong. On the contrary: voluntarism, we say, is right
in every respect except in believing itself to be psychology.
Voluntarism, we say, is the interpretative account of the real life,
of immediate experience, whose reality is understood by understanding
its meaning sympathetically, but we add that in this way an objective
description can never be reached. Description presupposes
objectivation; another aspect, not the natural aspect of life, must be
chosen to fulfill the logical purposes of psychology: the
voluntaristic inner life must be considered as content of
consciousness while consciousness is then no longer an active subject
but a passive spectator. Experience has then no longer any meaning in
a voluntaristic sense; it is merely a complex of elements. We claim
that every voluntaristic system as far as it offers descriptions and
explanations has borrowed them from phenomenalistic psychology and is
further filled up by fragments of logic, ethics and æsthetics, all of
which refer to man in his voluntaristic aspect. We claim, therefore,
that such a voluntaristic theory has no right to the name psychology,
while we insist that it gives a more direct account of man's real life
than psychology can hope to give, and, moreover, that it is the
voluntaristic man whose purpose creates knowledge and thus creates the
phenomenalistic aspect of man himself.
We say that the voluntaristic theory, the interpretation of our real
attitudes, in short teleological knowledge, alone can account for the
value and right of phenomenalistic psychology and it thus seems unfair
to raise the objection of 'double bookkeeping.' These two aspects of
inner life are not ultimately independent and exclusive; the
subjective purposes of real life necessarily demand the labors of
objectivistic psychology. The last word is thus not dualistic but
monistic and the two truths supplement each other. But this
supplementation must never be misinterpreted as meaning that the two
sciences divide inner experience, as if, for instance, the
phenomenalistic study dealt with perceptions and ideas, the
voluntaristic with feelings and volitions. No, it is really a
difference of logical purpose of treatment and thus a difference of
points of view only; the whole experience without exception must be
possible material for both. There is no feeling and no volition which
is not for the phenomenalist a content of consciousness and nothing
else. There is, on the other hand, no perception and no idea which is
not, or better, ought not to be for the voluntarist a means, an aim, a
tool, an end, an ideal. In that real life experience of which the
voluntarist is speaking, every object is the object of will and those
real objects have not been differentiated into physical things under
the abstract categories of mechanics on the one hand, and psychical
ideas of them in consciousness on the other; the voluntarist, if he is
consistent, knows neither physical nor psychical phenomena.
Phenomenalist and voluntarist thus do not see anything under the same
aspect, neither the ideas nor the will.
This difference is wrongly set forth if the antithesis to voluntarism
is called intellectualism. Intellectualism is based on the category of
judgment, and judgment too is a ideological attitude. Phenomenalism
does not presuppose a subject which knows its contents but a subject
which simply _has_ its contents; the consciousness which has the
thought as content does not take through that the voluntaristic
attitude of knowing it and the psychologist has therefore no reason to
prefer the thought to the volition and thus to play the
intellectualist. If the psychologist does emphasize the idea and its
elements, the sensations, it is not because they are vehicles of
thought but because their relations to physical objects make them
vehicles of communication. The elements of ideas are negotiable and
thus through their reference to the common physical world indirectly
describable; as the elements of ideas are alone in this position, the
psychologist is obliged to consider all contents of consciousness,
ideas and volitions alike, as complexes of sensations.
The antithesis is also misinterpreted, or at least wrongly narrowed,
if it is called voluntarism _versus_ associationism. Recent
discussions have sufficiently shown that the principle of association
is not the only possible one for phenomenalistic theories. If
associationism is identified with objective psychology, all the
well-founded objections to the monopoly of the somewhat sterile
principle of association appear as objections to phenomenalism in
psychology, and voluntaristic theories, especially those which work
with the teleological category of apperception, are put in its place.
But without returning to apperceptionism we can overcome the
one-sidedness of associationism if full use is made of the means which
the world of phenomena offers to theory. The insufficiency of
associationism disappears if the content of consciousness is
considered as variable not only as to quality and intensity but also
as to vividness. This variation of vividness, on the other hand, is no
exception from the psychophysical parallelism as soon as the psychical
process is considered as dependent not only upon the local and
quantitative differences of the sensory process but also upon the
motor function of the central physical process. The one-sidedness of
the physiological sensory theories has been the hidden reason for the
one-sidedness of associationism. The sensory-motor system must be
understood as the physical basis of the psychophysical process and the
variations in the motor discharge then become conditions of those
psychical variations of vividness which explain objectively all those
phenomena in whose interest associationism is usually supplemented by
apperceptionism. The association theory must thus be given up in favor
of an 'action-theory'[1] which combines the consistency of
phenomenalistic explanation with a full acknowledgment of the
so-called apperceptive processes; it avoids thus the deficiency of
associationism and the logical inconsistency of apperceptionism.
[1] H. Münsterberg, 'Grundzüge der Psychologie.' Bd. I.,
Leipzig, 1900, S. 402-562.
Only if in this way the sciences of voluntaristic type, including all
historical and normative sciences, are fully separated from
phenomenalistic psychology, will there appear on the psychological
side room for a scientific treatment of the phenomena of social life,
that is, for sociology, social psychology, folk-psychology, psychical
anthropology and many similar sciences. All of them have been in the
usual system either crowded out by the fact that history and the other
mental sciences have taken all the room or have been simply identified
with the mental sciences themselves. And yet all those sciences exist,
and a real system of sciences must do justice to all of them. A modern
classification has perhaps no longer the right as in Bacon's time to
improve the system by inventing new sciences which have as yet no
existence, but it has certainly the duty not to ignore important
departments of knowledge and not to throw together different sciences
like the descriptive phenomenalistic account of inner life and its
interpretative voluntaristic account merely because each sometimes
calls itself psychology. A classification of sciences which is to be
more than a catalogue fulfills its logical function only by a careful
disentanglement of logically different functions which are externally
connected. Psychology and the totality of psychological, philosophical
and historical sciences offer in that respect far more difficulty than
the physical sciences, which have absorbed up to this time the chief
interest of the classifier. It is time to follow up the ramifications
of knowledge with special interest for these neglected problems. It is
clear that in such a system sciences which refer to the same objects
may be widely separated, and sciences whose objects are unlike may be
grouped together. This is not an objection; it indicates that a
system is more than a mere pigeon-holing of scholarly work, that it
determines the logical relations; in this way only can it indeed
become helpful to the progress of science itself.
The most direct way to our end is clearly that of graphic
representation wherein the relations are at once apparent. Of course
such a map is a symbol and not an argument; it indicates the results
of thought without any effort to justify them. I have given my
arguments for the fundamental principles of the divisions in my
'Grundzüge der Psychologie' and have repeated a few points more
popularly in 'Psychology and Life,' especially in the chapter on
'Psychology and History.' And yet this graphic appendix to the
Grundzüge may not be superfluous, as the fulness of a bulky volume
cannot bring out clearly enough the fundamental relations; the detail
hides the principles. The parallelism of logical movements in the
different fields especially becomes more obvious in the graphic form.
Above all, the book discussed merely those groups which had direct
relation to psychology; a systematic classification must leave no
remainder. Of course here too I have not covered the whole field of
human sciences, as the more detailed ramification offers for our
purpose no logical interest; to subdivide physics or chemistry, the
history of nations or of languages, practical jurisprudence or
theology, engineering or surgery, would be a useless overburdening of
the diagram without throwing new light on the internal relations of
knowledge.
Without now entering more fully into any arguments, I may indicate in
a few words the characteristic features of the graphically presented
proposition. At the very outset we must make it clear that phenomena
and voluntaristic attitudes are not coördinated, but that the reality
of phenomena is logically dependent upon voluntaristic attitudes
directed towards the ideal of knowledge. And yet it would be
misleading to place the totality of phenomenalistic sciences as a
subdivision under the teleological sciences. Possible it would be; we
might have under the sciences of logical attitudes not only logic and
mathematics but as a subdivision of these, again, the sciences which
construct the logical system of a phenomenalistic world--physics
being in this sense merely mathematics with the conception of
substance added. And yet we must not forget that the teleological
attitudes, to become a teleological science, must be also logically
reconstructed, as they must be teleologically connected, and thus in
this way the totality of purpose-sciences might be, too, logically
subordinated to the science of logic. Logic itself would thus become a
subdivision of logic. We should thus move in a circle, from which the
only way out is to indicate the teleological character of all sciences
by starting not with science but with the strictly teleological
conception of life--life as a system of purposes, felt in immediate
experience, and not as the object of phenomenalistic knowledge. Life
as activity divides itself then into different purposes which we
discriminate not by knowledge but by immediate feeling; one of them is
knowledge, that is, the effort to make life, its attitudes, its means
and ends a connected system of overindividual value. In the service of
this logical task we connect the real attitudes and thus come to the
knowledge of purposes: and we connect the means and ends--by
abstracting from our subjective attitudes, considering the objects of
will as independent phenomena--and thus come to phenomenalistic
knowledge. At this stage the phenomenalistic sciences are no longer
dependent upon the teleological ones, but coördinated with them;
physics, for instance, is a logical purpose of life, but not a branch
of logic: the only branch of logic in question is the philosophy of
physics which examines the logical conditions under which physics is
possible.
One point only may at once be mentioned in this connection. While we
have coördinated the knowledge of phenomena with the knowledge of
purposes we have subordinated mathematics to the latter. As a matter
of course much can be said against such a decision, and the authority
of most mathematicians would be opposed to it. They would say that the
mathematical objects are independent realities whose properties we
study like those of nature, whose relations we 'observe,' whose
existence we 'discover' and in which we are interested because they
belong to the real world. All that is true, and yet the objects of the
mathematician are objects made by the will, by the logical will,
only, and thus different from all phenomena into which sensation
enters. The mathematician, of course, does not reflect on the purely
logical origin of the objects which he studies, but the system of
knowledge must give to the study of the mathematical objects its place
in the group where the functions and products of logical thought are
classified. The arithmetical or geometrical material is a free
creation, and a creation not only as to the combination of
elements--that would be the case with many laboratory substances of
the chemist too--but a creation as to the elements themselves, and the
value of the creation, its 'mathematical interest,' is to be judged by
ideals of thought, that is, by logical purposes. No doubt this logical
purpose is its application in the world of phenomena, and the
mathematical concept must thus fit the world so absolutely that it can
be conceived as a description of the world after abstracting not only
from the will relations, as physics does, but also from the content.
Mathematics would then be the phenomenalistic science of the form and
order of the world. In this way mathematics has a claim to places in
both fields: among the phenomenalistic sciences if we emphasize its
applicability to the world, and among the teleological sciences if we
emphasize the free creation of its objects by the logical will. It
seems to me that a logical system as such has to prefer the latter
emphasis; we thus group mathematics beside logic and the theory of
knowledge as a science of objects freely created for purposes of
thought.
All logical knowledge is divided into Theoretical and Practical. The
modern classifications have mostly excluded the practical sciences
from the system, rightly insisting that no facts are known in the
practical sciences which are not in principle covered by the
theoretical sciences; it is art which is superadded, but not a new
kind of knowledge. This is quite true so far as a classification of
objects of knowledge is in question, but as soon as logical tasks as
such are to be classified and different aspects count as different
sciences, then it becomes desirable to discriminate between the
sciences which take the attitude of theoretical interest and those
which consider the same facts as related to certain human ends. But we
may at first consider the theoretical sciences only. They deal either
with the objectified world, with objects of consciousness which are
describable and explainable, or with the subjectivistic world of real
life in which all reality is experienced as will and as object of
will, in which everything is to be understood by interpretation of its
meaning. In other words, we deal in one case with phenomena and in the
other with purposes.
The further subdivision must be the same for both groups--that which
is merely individual and that which is 'overindividual'; we prefer the
latter term to the word 'general,' to indicate at once that not a
numerical but a teleological difference is in question. A phenomenon
is given to overindividual consciousness if it is experienced with the
understanding that it can be an object for every one whom we
acknowledge as subject; and a purpose is given to overindividual will
in so far as it is conceived as ultimately belonging to every subject
which we acknowledge. The overindividual phenomena are, of course, the
physical objects, the individual phenomena the psychical objects, the
overindividual purposes are the norms, the individual purposes are the
acts which constitute the historical world. We have thus four
fundamental groups: the physical, the psychological, the normative and
the historical sciences.
Whoever denies overindividual reality finds himself in the world of
phenomena a solipsist and in the world of purposes a sceptic: there is
no objective physical world, everything is my idea, and there is no
objective value, no truth, no morality, everything is my individual
decision. But to deny truth and morality means to contradict the very
denial, because the denial itself as judgment demands acknowledgment
of this objective truth and as action demands acknowledgment of the
moral duty to speak the truth. And if an overindividual purpose cannot
be denied, it follows that there is a community of individual subjects
whose phenomena cannot be absolutely different: there must be an
objective world of overindividual objects.
In each of the four groups of sciences we must consider the facts
either with regard to the general relations or with regard to the
special material; the abstract general relations refer to every
possible material, the concrete facts which fall under them demand
sciences of their own. In the world of phenomena the general relations
are causal laws--physical or psychical laws; in the world of purposes
theories of teleological interrelations--normative or historical; the
specific concrete facts are in the world of phenomena objects,
physical or psychical objects, in the world of purposes acts of
will--specific norms or historical acts. If we turn first to
phenomena, the laws thereof are expressed in the physical sciences, by
mechanics, physics, chemistry, and we make mechanics the superior as
chemistry must become ultimately the mechanics of atoms. In the
psychological sciences the science of laws is psychology, with the
side-branch of animal psychology, while human psychology refers to
individuals and to social groups. Social psychology, as over against
individual psychology, is thus a science of general laws, the laws of
those psychological phenomena which result from the mutual influence
of several individuals.
On the other hand, we have as the special concrete products of the
laws, the objects themselves, and the most natural grouping of them
may be from whole to part. In the physical world it means that we
start from the concrete universe, turning then to the earth, then to
the objects on the earth, inorganic and organic. There is here no
logical difficulty. Each one of these objects can be considered in
three aspects, firstly as to its structure, secondly as to its special
laws, that is, the special function of the object as related to the
general sciences of physics and chemistry, and thirdly as to its
natural development. If we apply these three methods of study to the
whole universe we have astronomy, astrophysics and cosmology, to the
whole earth, geography, geophysics, geology, to animals, zoölogy,
physiology, comparative anatomy, and so on.
The special phenomena in the framework of the psychological sciences
group themselves in the same logical order, from the whole to the
part. The psychological totality is empirical mankind, and as we
select the earth as the one part of the universe which is the habitat
of man, so our scientific interest must move from the whole psychical
humanity to those phenomena of human life which are the vehicle of our
civilization, from mankind to its most important function, the
association of man; and as we moved from earth to the special objects
on earth, so we may turn from association to the special phenomena
which result from association. If we separated further the inorganic
from the organic, we must here separate the products of
undifferentiated and of differentiated association. The science of
mankind is race psychology, the science of the association of man is
sociology, the science of the results of undifferentiated association
is Völkerpsychologie, folk psychology. The science of products of
differentiated association has no special name; its subject matter is
the whole of historical civilization considered as a psychological
naturalistic phenomenon. As soon as we follow the ramification still
further we have to do with the special kinds of these products, that
is, with the volitions, thoughts, appreciations and beliefs. In the
undifferentiated associations they give us morals and habits,
languages and enjoyments and mythological ideas, while the
individually differentiated association gives political, legal and
economic life, knowledge, art and religion: all of course merely as
causal, not as teleological processes, and thus merely as
psychological and not as historical material. Here, as with the
physical phenomena, the structure, the special laws and the
development must be everywhere separated, giving us three sciences in
every case. For instance, the study of mankind deals with the
differences of mental structure in psychical anthropology, with the
special psychical laws in race psychology and with the development in
comparative psychology. The chief point for us is that social
psychology, race psychology, sociology, folk psychology, etc., are
under this system sharply differentiated sciences and that they do not
at all overlap the real historical sciences. There is no historical
product of civilization which does not come under their method but it
must be conceived as a causal phenomenon, not as related to the
purposes of the real man, and thus even the development means merely a
growing complication of naturalistic processes and not history in the
teleological sense.
We turn to the normative sciences. The general theory of the
overindividual purposes is metaphysics; the special overindividual
acts are those which constitute the normative volitions, connected in
the philosophy of morals, the philosophy of state and the philosophy
of law, those which constitute the normative thoughts and finally
those which constitute the normative appreciations and beliefs,
connected in æsthetics and the philosophy of religion. Especial
interest belongs to the philosophy of thought. We have discussed the
reasons why we group mathematics here and not among the
phenomenalistic sciences. We have thus one science which deals
critically with the presuppositions of thought, _i.e._ the theory of
knowledge or epistemology, which can be divided into the philosophy of
physical sciences, the philosophy of psychological sciences, the
philosophy of normative sciences and the philosophy of historical
sciences. We have secondly the science of the processes of thought
dealing with concepts, judgments and reasoning, _i.e._, logic, and we
have finally the science of those objects which the thought creates
freely for its own purposes and which are independent from the content
of the world, _i.e._, mathematics, which leads to the qualitative
aspect of general mathematics and the quantitative aspect of concrete
mathematics. For our purposes it may be sufficient to separate
externally algebra, arithmetic, analysis and geometry. In this way all
the philosophical sciences find their natural and necessary place in
the system, while it has been their usual lot to form an appendix to
the system, incommensurable with the parts of the system itself, even
in the case that the other scheme were not preferred, to make ethics,
logic, æsthetics, epistemology and metaphysics merely special branches
of positivistic sociology and thus ultimately of biology.
In the historical sciences the general theory which stands over
against the special acts has a special claim on our attention. We may
call it the philosophy of history. That is not identical with the
philosophy of historical sciences which we mentioned as a part of
epistemology. The philosophy of historical sciences deals with the
presuppositions by which historical teleological knowledge becomes
logically possible. The philosophy of history seeks a theory which
connects the special historical acts into a unity. It has two
branches. It is either a theory of the personality, creating a theory
of real individual life as it enters as ideological factor into
history, or it seeks the unity of entire humanity. The theory of
personality shows the teleological interrelation of our purposes; the
theory of humanity shows the teleological interrelation of all
nations. The name philosophy of history has been used mostly for the
theory of humanity only, abstracting from the fact that it has been
often misused for sociology or for the psychology of history or for
the philosophy of historical sciences--but the name belongs also to
the theory of personality. This theory of personality is exactly that
second kind of 'psychology' which does not describe and does not
explain but which interprets the inner teleological connections of the
real man. It is 'voluntaristic psychology' or, as others call it who
see correctly the relation of this science to history, 'historical
psychology.' It is practically 'apperceptionistic psychology.' The
special activities of the historical man divide themselves again into
volitions, thoughts, appreciations and beliefs, with their realization
in the state, law, economical systems, knowledge, art and religion.
Each of these special realizations must allow the same manifoldness in
treatment which we found with the special physical or psychical
objects; we can ask as to structure, relation to the general view and
development. But in accordance with the teleological material the
study of the structure here means 'interpretation,' the study of the
general relations here means study of the relation to civilization,
and the study of the development here means the real history. We have,
thus, for the state or law or economy or knowledge or art or religion
always one science which interprets the historical systems of state,
etc., in a systematic and philological way, one science which deals
with its function in the historical world and one which studies
biographically and nationally the history of state, law, economical
life, science, art or religion.
In the sphere of the practical sciences the divisions of the
theoretical sciences must repeat themselves. We have thus applied
physical, applied psychological, applied normative and applied
historical sciences, and it is again the antithesis of psychological
and of historical sciences which is of utmost importance and yet too
often neglected. The application of physical sciences, as in
engineering, medicine, etc., or the application of normative
knowledge in the sciences of criticism do not offer logical
difficulty, but the application of psychological and historical
knowledge does. Let us take the case of pedagogy or of penology,
merely as illustrations. Is the application of phenomenalistic
psychology or the application of teleological voluntarism in question?
Considering the child, the criminal, any man, as psychophysical
apparatus which must be objectively changed and treated, we have
applied psychology; considering him as subject with purposes, as
bearer of an historical civilization whose personalities must be
interpreted and understood and appreciated, then we need applied
historical knowledge. In the first case the science of pedagogy is a
psycho-technical discipline which makes education mechanical and
deprives the teacher of the teleological attitude of inner
understanding; in the second case it is a science of real education
far removed from psychology. All the sciences which deal with service
in the system of civilization, service as teacher, as judge, as social
helper, as artist, as minister, are sciences which apply the
teleological historical knowledge, and their meaning is lost if they
are considered as psycho-technical sciences only.
LIFE (in its immediate reality, felt as a system of telelogical
| experiences, involving the acknowledgement of other subjects of
| experiences)
|
|-VOLITION (will aiming towards new experiences).
| |-Individual: _Practical Life._
| |-Overindividual: _Mortality._
|
|-THOUGHT (will acknowledging the connection of experiences).
| |-Individual: _Judgement_
| |-Overindividual: TRUTH
| |-THEORETICAL KNOWLEDGE (connection of experiences determined by
| | | pure experience).
| | |
| | |-KNOWLEDGE OF PHENOMENA (connection of experiences after
| | | | abstracting their will relations).
| | | |-Knowledge of Phenomena Given to Overindividual Consciousness.
| | | | |-I. PHYSICAL SCIENCES.
| | | | |-A. GENERAL LAWS.
| | | | | |-Mechanics.
| | | | | |-Physics.
| | | | | |-Chemistry.
| | | | |
| | | | |-B. SPECIAL OBJECTS.
| | | | |-1. Universe.
| | | | | |-Astronomy _a, b, c_.
| | | | |
| | | | |-2. Special Parts.
| | | | | |-Geography _a, b, c_.
| | | | |
| | | | |-3. Special Objects on Earth.
| | | | |-Inorganic.
| | | | | |-Mineralogy _a, b, c_.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Organic.
| | | | |-Plants.
| | | | | |-Botany _a, b, c_.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Animals.
| | | | |-Zoology _a, b, c_.
| | | | |-Anthropology _a, b, c_.
| | | |
| | | |-Knowledge of Phenomena given to Indiviual Consciousness.
| | | |-II. PSYCHOLOGICAL SCIENCES.
| | | |-A. GENERAL LAWS.
| | | | |-PHENOMENALISTIC PSYCHOLOGY
| | | | |-Animal Psychology.
| | | | |-Human psychology.
| | | | |-Individual Ps.
| | | | |-Normal.
| | | | | |-Child.
| | | | | |-Adult.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Abnormal.
| | | |
| | | |-B. SPECIAL OBJECTS.
| | | |-1. Mankind.
| | | | |-Race Psychology _a, b, c_.
| | | |-2. Special Functions.
| | | | |-Association of Men.
| | | | |-Sociology _a, b, c_.
| | | |
| | | |-3. Special Products of Association of Men
| | | | (considered as natural phenomena).
| | | |-Products of Undiffereniated Association of Men
| | | | | (Folk Psychology).
| | | | |-Volition.
| | | | | |-Morals _a, b, c_.
| | | | | |-Habits _a, b, c_.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Thoughts.
| | | | | |-Languages _a, b, c_.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Appreciation.
| | | | | |-Enjoyment _a, b, c_.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Belief.
| | | | |-Mythology _a, b, c_.
| | | |
| | | |-Products of Individual Differentiation
| | | | (casual phenomenalistic sciences of civilization
| | | | and its development).
| | | |-Volition.
| | | | |-State _a, b, c_.
| | | | |-Law _a, b, c_.
| | | | |-Economy _a, b, c_.
| | | |
| | | |-Thoughts.
| | | | |-Sciences _a, b, c_.
| | | |
| | | |-Appreciation.
| | | | |-Art _a, b, c_.
| | | |
| | | |-Belief.
| | | |-Religion _a, b, c_.
| | |
| | |-KNOWLEDGE OF PURPOSES (connection of experiences in their
| | | telelogical reality).
| | |
| | |-Knowledge of Purposes of the Overindividual Will.
| | | |-III. NORMATIVE SCIENCES
| | | |-A. GENERAL THEORY of absolute values.
| | | | |-Metaphysics.
| | | |
| | | |-B. SPECIAL ACTS.
| | | |-Volition.
| | | | |-Philosophy of Morals (Ethics).
| | | | |-Philosophy of Law.
| | | | |-Philosophy of State.
| | | |
| | | |-Thoughts.
| | | | |-Presuppositions of Thought.
| | | | | |-Theory of Knowledge.
| | | | | |-Phil. of Physics.
| | | | | |-Phil. of Psych.
| | | | | |-Phil. of Normative Sciences.
| | | | | |-Phil. of Historical Sciences.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Processes of Thought.
| | | | | |-Logic.
| | | | |
| | | | |-Objects Created by Thought.
| | | | |-Mathematics.
| | | | |-Algebra.
| | | | |-Arithmetic.
| | | | |-Analysis.
| | | | |-Geometry.
| | | |
| | | |-Appreciation.
| | | | |-Philosophy of Art (Æsthetics).
| | | |
| | | |-Belief.
| | | |-Philosophy of Religion.
| | |
| | |-Knowledge of Purposes of the Individual Will.
| | |-IV. HISTORICAL SCIENCES.
| | |-A. GENERAL THEORY of real life.
| | | |-Philosophy of History.
| | | |-Theory of Personality.
| | | | |-(Theory of selves.)
| | | | |-("Historical Psychology.")
| | | | |-("VOLUNTARISTIC Psychology.")
| | | | |-("Apperceptional Psychology.")
| | | |-Theory of Humanity.
| | |
| | |-B. SPECIAL ACTS (telelogical interpretative sciences of
| | | civilization and history.)
| | |-Volition.
| | | |-Politics, _a, b, c_.
| | | |-Law, _a, b, c_.
| | | |-Economy, _a, b, c_.
| | |
| | |-Thoughts.
| | | |-Science, _a, b, c_.
| | |
| | |-Appreciation.
| | | |-Art, _a, b, c_.
| | |
| | |-Belief.
| | |-Religion, _a, b, c_.
| |
| |-PRACTICAL KNOWLEDGE.
| |-APPLIED KNOWLEDGE OF PHENOMENA.
| | |-V. APPLIED PHYSICAL SCIENCES.
| | | |-Technical Sciences.
| | | | |-Applied Physics.
| | | | |-Applied Chemistry.
| | | | |-Applied Biology.
| | | |
| | | |-Medicine.
| | |
| | |-VI. APPLIED PSYCHOLOGICAL SCIENCES.
| | |-Psychotechnical Sciences.
| | | |-Psychological Pedagogy.
| | | |-Psychological Penology.
| | |
| | |-Psychiatry.
| |
| |-APPLIED KNOWLEDGE OF PURPOSES.
| |-VII. APPLIED NORMATIVE SCIENCES.
| | |-Volition.
| | | |-Politics.
| | | | |-Science of Public Service.
| | | |
| | | |-Law.
| | | | |-Science of Legal Service. (Practical Jurisprudence.)
| | | |
| | | |-Economy.
| | | |-Science of Social Service.
| | |
| | |-Thoughts.
| | | |-Science of Teaching. (Education.)
| | |
| | |-Appreciation.
| | | |-Science of Artistic Production.
| | |
| | |-Belief.
| | |-Science of Religious Service. (Practical Theology.)
| |
| |-VIII. APPLIED HISTORICAL SCIENCES.
| |-Volition.
| | |-Criticism of State.
| | |-Criticism of Law.
| |
| |-Thoughts.
| | |-Criticism of Science.
| |
| |-Appreciation.
| | |-Criticism of Art.
| |
| |-Belief.
| |-Criticism of Religion.
|
|-APPRECIATION (will resting in isolated experiences).
| |-Individual: _Enjoyment._
| |-Overindividual: _Beauty._
|
|-BELIEF (will resting in the supplements of experience).
|-Individual: _Creed._
|-Overindividual: _Religion.
NOTE: The letters _a, b, c_ below the sciences of Special Objects and
Special Acts indicate the three subdivisions that results from the
threefold aspects;--of structure(_a_), of relation to the general laws
or theories(_b_), and of development(_c_). With regards to physical
phenomena, for instances, we have astronomy(_a_), astrophysics(_b_),
and cosmology(_c_); or geography(_a_), geophysics(_b_), geology(_c_);
or botany(_a_), plant physiology(_b_), phylogenetic development of
plants(_c_). In the same way for psychical objects; for instance:
structural sociology(_a_), functional sociology(_b_), comparative
sociology(_c_); or structure (grammar and syntax) of languages(_a_),
psychology of languages(_b_), comparative study of languages(_c_).
With regard to the telelogical historical sciences the study of
structure takes on here the character of intrepretation; the relation
to the general view is here the dependence on civilization and the
development is here the real history. We have thus, for instance, the
intepretation of Roman law(_a_), dependence of Roman law upon
civilization(_b_), history of Roman law(_c_).
End of Project Gutenberg's Harvard Psychological Studies, Volume 1, by Various