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AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY
by
WILHELM WUNDT
Professor of Philosophy in the University Of Leipsic
Translated from the Second German Edition by
Rudolf Pintner, M. A. (Edin.), Ph. D., (Leipsic)
Publication of the
"Pädagogische Literatur Gesellschaft Neue Bahnen"
London: George Allen & Unwin, Ltd.
Ruskin House, 40 Museum St. W. C. I.
Published 1912--Reprint 1920
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
It is not the intention of this introduction to psychology to discuss
the scientific or philosophical conceptions of psychology, or even
to make a survey of the investigations and their results. What this
little book attempts is rather to introduce the reader to the principal
thoughts underlying present-day experimental psychology, leaving out
many facts and methods which would be necessary for a thorough study
of the subject. To omit all mention of experimental methods and their
results is at the present day impossible. Yet we only need to consider
a comparatively small number of results of the first importance in
order to comprehend the basal principles of the new psychology. To
characterise the methods of this psychology it would be impossible to
omit all reference to experiments, but we can and will omit reference
to the more or less complicated instruments on which the carrying out
of such experiments depends. I must refer the reader who wishes a
fuller account of the new psychology to my _Outlines of Psychology_,
which also contains the necessary bibliography of the subject.
W. WUNDT.
Leipsic, June 1911.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE
The present volume is a popular introduction to the Wundtian
psychology. It is a shorter and simpler sketch than the same author's
_Outlines of Psychology_, and it should prove invaluable to the
English-speaking student who wishes to gain some conception of the
subject before entering upon a deeper study of the same. Its popularity
in Germany has been phenomenal.
In translating the work the translator has, as far as possible, used
the same English terms as those employed in the translations of Wundt
by Judd and Titchener.
He is greatly indebted to Mr. Robert Wilson, M.A., B. Sc., for his
advice and help in reading over the manuscript before going to press.
RUDOLF PINTNER.
Edinburgh, May 1912.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION
Psychology as a description of processes of
consciousness--The metronome--The rhythmical
disposition of consciousness--The scope of
consciousness--The threshold of consciousness--The
fixation-point and field of consciousness--The focus
of attention--The scope of attention--Apprehension and
apperception
CHAPTER II
THE ELEMENTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS
Psychical elements and compounds--Sensation and
idea--Memory images and perceptions--Quality and
intensity of sensations--Feelings--Difference
between sensation and feeling--The three pairs
of feelings--The affective process--Emotions and
moods--Volitional processes--Motives--Instinctive,
voluntary, and discriminative actions--The qualities
of feelings--Feeling and apperception
CHAPTER III
ASSOCIATION
Associations and apperceptions--The fusion of tones
into clangs--Spatial and temporal perception
--Assimilation and dissimilation--Direct and reproduced
forms of the same--Complications--The recognition and
cognition of objects--Successive association--The
so-called "feeling of familiarity"--Secondary ideas
--The affective processes in recognition--The so-called
states of consciousness in forgetting, remembering, &c.
--Memory associations
CHAPTER IV
APPERCEPTION
General characteristics of apperceptive combinations
as compared to associations--The aggregate idea and
its analysis--Concrete and abstract thought--Speech
and thought--Understanding and imagination--Examples
of primitive forms of speech in the language of
primitive races--Development of apperceptive
combinations out of associative ones--Inadequacy
of the method of introspection in dealing with the
psychological problems of thought--Psychology of
language and race
CHAPTER V
THE LAWS OF PSYCHICAL LIFE
The relation between psychical and natural laws--The
psycho-physical individual--The question as to the
universal validity of the laws--The principle of
creative resultants--The principle of heterogony of
ends--The principle of conditioning relations--The
principle of intensifying contrasts--The psychological
and physical standpoints--Relation between physical
and psychical values--Physical and psychical
elements--The nature of the soul--Mythological
views--The "substance" hypothesis--The principle of
the actuality of mind
AN INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY
CHAPTER I
CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION
If psychologists are asked, what the business of psychology is,
they generally make some such answer as follows, if they belong
to the empirical school: that this science has to investigate the
facts of consciousness, its combinations and relations, so that it
may ultimately discover the laws which govern these relations and
combinations.
Now although this definition seems quite perfect, it is really to
some extent a vicious circle. For if we ask further, what is this
consciousness which psychology investigates? the answer will be, "It
consists of the sum total of facts of which we are conscious." In spite
of this, our definition is the simplest, and therefore for the present
it will be well for us to keep to it. All objects of experience have
this peculiarity, namely, that we cannot really define them but only
point to them, and if they are of a complex nature analyse them into
their separate qualities. Such an analysis we call a description. We
will therefore best be able to answer more accurately the question as
to the nature of psychology by describing as exactly as possible all
the separate qualities of that consciousness, the content of which
psychological investigation has to deal with.
For this purpose let us make use of a little instrument to help
us--an instrument well known to all who have studied music, i.e. the
metronome. It is really nothing more than a clockwork with an upright
standing pendulum, on which a sliding weight is attached, so that
beats may follow each other at equal intervals in greater or less
rapidity. If the weight is fixed at the upper end of the pendulum,
the beats follow each other at an interval of two seconds; if at the
lower end, the interval is shortened to about a third of a second.
Between these limits every different length of beat can be produced.
We can, however, increase these limits considerably by taking off the
sliding weight altogether. Now the lower limit falls to a quarter of
a second. Similarly we can obtain any longer time we choose with a
sufficient degree of accuracy, if we have some one to help us. Instead
of letting the pendulum swing of its own accord, the assistant moves
it backwards and forwards with his hand, measuring off the longer
interval fixed upon, by means of a watch, that marks the seconds. This
instrument is not only very useful for teaching singing and music,
but it is also a psychological apparatus of the simplest kind. In
psychology, as we shall see, we can use it for so many purposes that we
are almost justified in saying that with its help we can demonstrate
the most important part of the psychology of consciousness. In order
to be able to do this the instrument must satisfy one requirement,
which every instrument does not possess. The strength of the beats
must be sufficiently uniform, so that even to the most attentive
listener differences in the intensity of the successive beats may not
be noticed. To test an instrument in this respect, we proceed thus.
We subjectively emphasise the one beat and then the other, as the two
following rows of notes show:--
[Illustration]
This diagram represents the separate beats by notes, and the accent
shows those beats that are subjectively emphasised. Row A shows an
ascending beat, and row B a descending one. Now if it happens that we
can at will hear into the beats of the metronome an ascending or a
descending beat (A or B), i.e. we can hear one and the same beat now
emphasised and now unemphasised, then we may regard the instrument as
suitable for all the psychological experiments to be described in the
following pages.
Although the experiment described was only meant to serve as a
test for the metronome, yet we can derive from it a remarkable
psychological result. For we notice in this experiment that it is
really extraordinarily difficult to hear the beats in absolutely the
same intensity, or, to put it in other words, to hear unrhythmically.
Again and again we recur to the ascending or descending beat. We
can express this phenomenon in this sentence: Our consciousness is
rhythmically disposed. The reason of this scarcely lies in a specific
quality, peculiar to consciousness alone, but it clearly stands in
the closest relationship to our whole psycho-physical organisation.
Consciousness is rhythmically disposed, because the whole organism is
rhythmically disposed. The movements of the heart, of breathing, of
walking, take place rhythmically. In a normal state we certainly are
not aware of the pulsations of the heart, but we do feel the movements
of breathing, and they act upon us as very weak stimuli. Above all,
the movements of walking form a very clear and recognisable background
to our consciousness. Now our means of locomotion are in a certain
sense natural pendulums, the movements of which generally follow with
a certain regularity, as with the pendulum of the metronome. Therefore
whenever we receive impressions in consciousness at similar stated
intervals, we arrange them in a rhythmical form similar to that of
our own outward movements. The special form of rhythm, ascending or
descending, is within certain limits left to our own free choice,
just as with the movements of locomotion, which may take the form of
walking, of running, of jumping, and lastly of all different kinds
of dances. Our consciousness is not a thing separated from our whole
physical and mental being, but a collection of the contents that are
most important for the mental side of this being.
We can obtain a further result from the experiment with the metronome
described above, if we change the length of the ascending or descending
row of beats. In our diagram each row, A and B, contains sixteen
separate beats, or, taking one rise and fall together, eight double
beats. If we listen attentively to a row of beats of this length
when the metronome is going at a medium rapidity of, say, 1 to 1 1/2
seconds, and then after a short pause repeat a row of exactly the same
length, we recognise immediately the identity of the two. In the same
way a difference will be immediately noticed, if the second row is only
by one beat longer or shorter than the first. It is immaterial whether
we beat in ascending or descending rhythm. Now it is obvious that such
an immediate recognition of the identity of two successive rows is only
possible if each of them is in consciousness as a whole. It is not at
all necessary for both of them to be in consciousness at the same time.
We can see at once that consciousness must grasp them as wholes, if
we consider for one moment an analogous case, e.g. the recognition of
a complex visual image. If we look, for example, at a regular hexagon
for a short time, and then cast another glance at the same figure, we
recognise at once that both images are identical. Such a recognition
is impossible if we divide the figure up into several parts and show
these parts separately. Just as the two visual images appeared in
consciousness as wholes, so must each of our rows of beats appear as a
whole, if the second is to call up a similar impression to the first.
The difference consists in this, that the hexagon was perceived in all
its parts at once, whereas the beats followed each other in succession.
Just because they follow in this way, such a row of beats possesses
this advantage, that we can thereby determine precisely how far we
can extend such a row so that it is still possible to grasp it in
consciousness as a whole. It has been proved by such experiments that
sixteen successive beats, alternately rising and falling, or so-called
2/8 time, is the maximum for such a row, in order that all the separate
elements may still find room in our consciousness. We may therefore
consider such a row as a measure for the scope of consciousness under
these given conditions. At the same time it appears that this measure
is, between certain limits, independent of the rapidity of succession
of the beats. A grasping together of the row as a whole becomes,
however, impossible, when the beats follow each other so slowly that
no rhythm may be heard, or when the rapidity is so great that the 2/8
time is lost, and the mind tries to group the beats together in a more
complicated rhythm. The former limit lies at about 2 1/2 seconds, and
the latter at 1 second.
When we take the longest row of beats that can be grasped together as
one whole in consciousness under the given conditions and call this the
scope of consciousness, it is of course obvious that we do not mean
by this expression the total content of consciousness that is present
at one given moment. We mean only to denote the maximum scope of one
single complex whole. Let us picture consciousness for a moment as a
plane surface of a limited extension. Then our scope of consciousness
is one diameter of this surface, and not the whole extent. There may at
the same time be many other elements of consciousness scattered about
beside the ones we are just measuring. They can, however, in general be
left out of account, since in a case such as ours consciousness will
be directed to the content that is being measured, and the elements
outside of this will be unclear, fluctuating, and isolated.
The scope of consciousness, in accordance with our definition, is a
relatively constant value, if we keep to a special time, e.g. the 2/8
time. It does not change with a different rapidity of beat within the
above-mentioned limits. A change in the time, however, exercises great
influence. Such a change is to some extent dependent upon our will. We
can hear into our uniform row of beats not only a simple 2/8 time, but
a more complicated rhythm, e.g. the following 4/4 time:--
[Illustration: letter diagram; cardboard with point in the middle.]
Such a row arises if we let different intensities of accent enter, say
the strongest at the beginning of the row, a medium one in the middle,
and a weak one in the middle of each of the two halves of the whole
row, as in the diagram above. The strongest emphasis is denoted by
three accents, the medium one by two, and the weak ones by one. This
transition to more complicated rhythms is to a great degree dependent
upon the rapidity of the beat, as well as upon our will. With long
intervals it is very difficult to go beyond the simple 2/8 time. With
short ones a certain exertion is necessary to withstand the impulse of
transition to more complicated rhythms. When listening unconcernedly
to the beats of the metronome when the interval between the beats is
1/2 second or less, the above-described 4/4 time generally appears.
This groups together eight beats into one unity, whereas the 2/8 time
only embraces two beats. Now if we measure the scope of consciousness
for such a complicated row of beats, we find that five bars of 4/4
time can be grouped together and grasped as a whole; and if this row
is repeated after a short interval, it can be recognised as identical
with the preceding row. Here, then, we have forty beats as the scope
of consciousness for this complicated rhythm, whereas with the most
simple rhythmical arrangement we had only sixteen beats. This scope of
forty seems to be the greatest we can attain by any means. We can, it
is true, voluntarily call forth more complicated rhythmic arrangements,
e.g. 6/4 time. But such an increase in the number of beats in the
rhythmic arrangement demands a certain exertion, and the length of the
row that can be grouped together as one whole does not increase, but
decreases.
In these experiments a further remarkable quality of consciousness
appears, which is closely connected to the rhythmical disposition of
consciousness. The three degrees of emphasis, which the diagram of
4/4 time shows, form a maximum of differentiation which cannot be
surpassed. Counting the unaccented beat as well, we arrive at a scale
of intensity of four grades as the highest limit in the gradation
of the intensity of impressions. This value clearly determines the
rhythmical arrangement of the whole row, and with it the comprehension
of this in consciousness, just as on the contrary the rhythm of the
beats determines the number of gradations in intensity, which are
necessary in the arrangement of the row of beats as supports for the
comprehension by consciousness. Both factors therefore stand in close
relationship to each other. The rhythmical disposition of consciousness
demands certain limits for the number of grades of emphasis, and these
on their part demand that specific rhythmical disposition which is
peculiar to the human consciousness.
The more extensive the rows of beats become, which we join together
in the experiments described, the more clearly does another important
phenomenon of consciousness appear. If we pay attention to the relation
between a beat, perceived in a certain given moment, and one that has
immediately preceded it, and if we further compare this latter with
a beat further back in the row that is being grouped together as a
whole, differences of a certain kind between all these impressions
appear. They are quite different from the variations in intensity and
emphasis. To describe them we do best to make use of expressions,
which were first of all formed in all languages to describe the
perception of visual impressions, where the same differences also
appear and are relatively independent of differences in the intensity
of light. These expressions are "clearness" and "distinctness." Their
meanings almost coincide, but still they differ inasmuch as they
denote different sides of the faculty of perception. "Clearness"
refers more to the special constitution of the impression itself;
"distinctness" to the relation of the impression to other impressions
from which it seems to stand out. Let us transfer these conceptions
in a generalised sense to the content of consciousness. One row of
beats clearly shows in each of its separate elements the most varying
degrees of clearness and distinctness. They all in a regular manner
bear upon the beat that is affecting consciousness at the moment.
This beat is the one that is most clear and most distinct. The ones
immediately preceding are most like this one, whereas those that lie
further back lose more and more in clearness. If the beat furthest
away lies so far back that the impression has absolutely disappeared,
then we speak in a picturesque way of a sinking beneath the threshold
of consciousness. For the opposite process we have at once the picture
of a rising above the threshold. In a similar sense for that gradual
approach to the threshold of consciousness, which we notice in our
experiments in the beats that lie further back, we use the expression
"a darkening," and for the reverse process "a brightening" of the
content of consciousness. With the use of these expressions we can
formulate in the following manner the condition necessary for the
comprehension of a whole consisting of many parts, e.g. a row of beats:
a comprehension as a whole is possible as long as no part sinks beneath
the threshold of consciousness. For the most obvious differences in
the clearness and distinctness of the content of consciousness, we
generally use two other expressions, which, like our former ones of
darkening and brightening, illustrate the meaning. We say that that
element of consciousness, which is mostly clearly apprehended, lies in
the fixation-point of consciousness, and that all the rest belongs to
the field of consciousness. In our metronome experiments, therefore,
the beat, that is at the moment affecting consciousness, lies in this
subjective fixation-point, whereas the preceding beats, the further
back they stretch, the more do they belong merely to this subjective
field. This latter we may picture to ourselves as a region surrounding
the fixation-point, which becomes gradually darker towards the
periphery and at last is bounded by the threshold of consciousness.
In this last figure of speech we have already suggested that the
so-called fixation-point of consciousness denotes in general only
the ideal middle point of a central region, within which several
impressions can be clearly and distinctly apprehended. So in one row
of beats the beat heard at a certain moment would lie within the
fixation-point; yet the immediately preceding beats are still clear
and distinct enough, in order to be included within the same narrow
region, which contrasts with the more extensive field by reason of
its greater clearness. The psychological process agrees also in this
respect with the expressions we have borrowed from the sense of sight,
where we have a single point of the field of vision as fixation-point,
around which a great number of impressions may be clearly perceived.
Only because of this are we able to apprehend a larger image in a
single moment, e.g. to read a word. For this central part of the field
of our consciousness, which immediately surrounds the subjective
fixation-point, the practical necessity of language has already coined
a word, which has been accepted by psychology. We call that psychical
process, which is operative in the clear perception of a narrow region
of the content of consciousness, attention. When impressions, or any
other content, at a certain moment are remarkable for their special
clearness in comparison to the other elements in consciousness, we say
that they lie within the focus of attention. Keeping to our former
figure, we imagine this as the central region that surrounds the
subjective fixation-point, and it is cut off by a more or less clearly
defined boundary-line from the larger and darker field that surrounds
it. And this immediately gives rise to a new experimental problem,
which forms an important supplement to the above-described measurement
of the whole scope of consciousness. The problem consists in answering
the question that immediately arises, How big is this narrower scope of
attention?
Rhythmical rows of beats, because of the arrangement of the successive
impressions in them, were excellently suited to determine the total
scope of consciousness. But because of this very same quality they can
give us little help in solving our second problem. For it is obvious
that just that connection between the focus of attention and the wider
field of consciousness, that the rhythm of a row of beats causes--this
connection makes a clear boundary between these two regions impossible.
We notice clearly enough that along with the beat that is directly
affecting consciousness a few of the preceding ones also fall within
the focus of attention, but how many remains uncertain. The sense
of sight obviously offers us more favourable conditions. We must,
however, first of all note the fact that the physiological conditions
of vision in themselves limit the apprehension of an extended object,
not taking into account the psychological boundary of clear perception.
The keenest differentiation of impressions is limited to the so-called
region of clearest vision, which surrounds the fixation-point. The
reader can test this for himself by fixating the middle letter "_o_"
in the following diagram of letters from a distance of about 20-25 cm,
while keeping one eye closed.
We can in this position, by directing our attention alone to the
outlying parts of the field of vision, still recognise letters, which
lie at the sides of our figure, as, for example, the _h_ at the top
or the _i_ at the right-hand side. To carry out this experiment a
little practice in fixation is required, since in natural vision we
are always inclined to direct our line of vision to that point, to
which our attention is turned. If, however, we practise letting our
attention wander over the different parts of the field of vision while
keeping the same fixation-point, it will soon be clear to us that the
fixation-point of attention and the fixation-point of the field of
vision are by no means identical. They can by practice be separated,
and the attention can be directed to a point in indirect vision, i.e. a
point lying to this or to that side of the line of vision. From this we
see that clear perception in the psychological sense and clear vision
in the physiological sense do not necessarily coincide. For example,
if we fixate the middle letter _o_, and at the same time direct our
attention to the "_n_" at the right-hand side, we also perceive clearly
the letters that surround _n_, i.e. _f g s i_, whereas the letters
around _o_, i.e. _h t i n_, seem to retreat into the darker field of
consciousness. This diagram of letters has been printed so large, that
when we look at it from a distance of 20-25 cm. it almost corresponds
in scope to the region of clearest vision, taking as a measure for
this the recognisability of letters of the size of those printed
in this book. We see, therefore, at once from the above-described
observations, that the scope of the focus of attention and the region
of clearest vision in the physiological sense differ widely from each
other. The latter, under the conditions of observation we have chosen,
comprises a far wider field than the former. In our figure there are
95 letters: If it were possible simultaneously clearly to perceive in
the psychological sense all the objects clearly seen physiologically,
then we should be able by fixating the point _o_ to perceive all these
letters. This is, however, by no means the case. At one given moment
we can differentiate only a few, which surround the fixation-point of
attention, whether this coincides with the objective fixation-point
of the field of vision, as in ordinary vision, or whether it lies
in any way outside of this point owing to a severance of the two
fixation-points.
Although these observations as to the simultaneous recognition of
haphazardly arranged simple objects, e.g. letters, point decisively to
a fairly narrow limitation of the scope of attention, still we cannot
give an exact numerical answer by this method as to the size of this
scope, as we could by means of our metronome experiments in regard to
the scope of consciousness. Still, without any great change and without
any complicated apparatus, we can make these visual experiments suffice
to answer our question. Our immediate results will, of course, only be
valid under the special conditions we set up. For this purpose a great
number of such diagrams, with letters arranged in the same manner,
must be constructed. The position of the letters in each diagram must
be different. Then a fairly large square of white cardboard, with a
black point in the middle, is made (as in the figure on p. 19). With
this we cover the diagram chosen for the experiment. The observer, who
previously must not have seen the diagrams, is told to fixate with one
eye the point in the middle, and to keep the other eye closed.
The cover is then taken away rapidly for one moment, and then as
rapidly replaced. The rapidity of this procedure must be such that no
movement of the eye, or wandering of the attention over the field of
vision, can take place, as long as the diagram remains uncovered.[1]
Each time we repeat the experiment a new diagram must be chosen,
otherwise the individual momentary impression will supplement the
preceding ones. If we wish to obtain unambiguous results we must choose
conditions which exclude such influences of previous perceptions. Our
question will therefore be limited to this: What is the number of
simple and new impressions in consciousness that the focus of attention
can grasp in one given moment? In reference to this way of stating
the question, an objection to our method of experimenting might be
raised. It might be objected that a letter is not a simple element of
consciousness, and that we ought rather to use simpler objects, e.g.
dots. But since these lack all means of differentiation, the carrying
out of the experiment would be rendered much more difficult, if not
impossible. On the other hand, we must not forget that our familiarity
with letters is of the greatest importance. Because of this a letter of
ordinary print can be perceived as quickly as a single dot--a fact any
one can easily prove for himself by means of observation. Such symbols,
because of their characteristic differences, have this advantage,
that after a momentary impression they can be easily retained in
consciousness, and thus an account of what has been clearly perceived
can be given after the experiment. If we carry out the experiments
in the manner described, it appears that an unpractised observer can
perceive, at most, only 3-4 letters. After a few more experiments this
number increases to 6. Of course, as before mentioned, a new diagram
must be used in every new experiment. This value 6 cannot be increased
by further practice, and it remains the same for different observers.
We are therefore entitled to regard it as a constant for attention for
the human consciousness.
[Footnote 1: To carry out such experiments more exactly and more
uniformly it is best to make use of the simple apparatus called the
tachistoscope. A falling screen exposes the object to sight for a very
short time, which can be accurately measured. Still, if this apparatus
cannot be procured, the procedure described above suffices. Special
practice should be devoted to covering and uncovering the diagram, so
that this may be done as rapidly as possible.]
This determination of the scope of attention is, however, dependent
upon one condition, which is exactly the opposite of that introduced
in measuring the scope of consciousness. This latter was only possible
by using rows of impressions that were bound together into one complex
whole. To measure the scope of attention, on the other hand, we must
isolate the separate impressions from each other, so that they form an
unarranged multiplicity of elements. This is a difference in conditions
which certainly does not only depend upon the fact that in the first
case the sense of hearing and in the second case the sense of sight
was used. We rather conjecture at the very outset that here the chief
influence lay in the psychological conditions, in the first case in
the combination of the elements into a whole, and in the second in the
isolation of the elements. At once the following question naturally
arises: What will happen if we, so to speak, change the rôles of these
two senses, if we let impressions, connected together as wholes, work
upon the sense of sight, and isolated impressions upon the sense of
hearing? In the first case we have simply to combine letters together,
so that they form words or sentences. A letter is nothing more than
an element that has been artificially taken out of such a natural
combination. Now if we carry out with these parts of speech experiments
in the same manner as we have described above, we obtain, in fact, an
absolutely different result. If we show the observer a word such as
this--
Miscellaneousness,
he can read it at once, without being prepared for it and without
previous practice. With isolated elements he could at most grasp six,
but here, under exactly the same conditions, the scope is extended to
seventeen or more elements without the slightest difficulty. It is
clear that this is essentially the same phenomenon that we encountered
in our experiments on rhythm with the sense of hearing. The conditions
of combination are, however, in so far different, as the stimuli for
the sense of sight were simultaneous, whereas for the sense of hearing
the whole was made up of simple impressions that followed each other.
And with this another difference is connected. A word can only be
recognised at a momentary glance, if it has been known to us before
as a whole, or with compound words, if their chief parts have been
familiar to us. Therefore a word of an absolutely unknown language
appears as a complex of unarranged letters, and with such a complex
our scope is again limited to six isolated elements. With a rhythmical
row of beats, on the other hand, it is of no consequence what the form
of rhythm is that binds them together, since we can think into such a
row whatever rhythmical arrangement we choose, as long as it conforms
to the general rhythmical disposition of consciousness, i.e. as long
as it does not exceed the maximum of three different accents, as we
have previously shown. At the same time this requirement shows us that
the differences in apprehending a successive and a simultaneous whole,
which appear in our experiments with sight and hearing, are in reality
only apparent differences. A musical time that is adequate to our sense
of rhythm behaves in exactly the same way as a word or sentence that
is adequate to our sense of language. Therefore we may presuppose that
in the reading, as in the rhythm experiments, it is not the whole of
a complex consisting of many elements that is instantaneously grasped
by the attention. Only a limited part of such a word falls within
the scope of attention, and from this part the psychical power of
combination goes over to those other elements that lie in the wider
field of consciousness. In fact there is a well-known phenomenon that
gives a striking proof for this combination of the parts of a word or
sentence grasped by attention with unclearly perceived elements. It
consists in the fact that misprints are so often unnoticed, especially
in rapid reading. This would be impossible if we were forced to
perceive with our attention equally clearly all the separate elements
of a long word or of a sentence in order to be able to read. In fact,
in each separate moment there are only a few elements within the
focus of attention. From these the threads of psychical combination
stretch to the elements unclearly perceived--yes, sometimes even to
the impressions only physiologically seen that lie in the regions of
indirect vision. Just as in hearing a rhythm, the sound impressions
affecting consciousness at the moment are bound to the preceding ones
that have retreated into the darker regions of consciousness, and,
on the other hand, they are preparing the way for further expected
impressions. The chief difference of the two cases lies not so much in
the formal relations of the scope of attention and of consciousness, as
in the constitution of the elements and their combinations.
Let us now, equipped with the results of our visual experiments, turn
our attention again to our metronome experiments. The analogy between
the two immediately gives rise to this question: Can we not in our
rhythm experiments arrange the conditions so that we may obtain a
similar isolation of simple impressions, as was necessary in measuring
the scope of attention for the sense of sight? Now in fact such an
isolation of single beats arises at once, as soon as we restrain a
"hearing into" the beats of any kind of accentuation whatever. Even the
simplest rhythm, the 2/8 time, must be avoided. This is not so easy
as it appears to be at the first glance, because of the rhythmical
disposition of our consciousness and of our whole psycho-physical
organisation. Again and again we are inclined to hear into a row of
beats following each other at similar intervals, at least the 2/8 time.
And yet it is possible to conform to this condition, if the metronome
beats do not show any noticeable objective differences. The interval
between the beats must be chosen long enough to check any tendency to
rhythmical grouping, and yet not too long, so that it may still remain
possible to grasp so many beats as one whole. In general an interval of
from 1 1/2-2 1/2 seconds will conform to this requirement. With such
an interval, after a fair amount of practice, it is possible to change
at will from a rhythmical to an unrhythmical or absolutely monotonous
perception of the beats. If this is done, and if in exactly the same
manner as in the rhythm experiments a number of metronome beats is
given, and then after a pause the same or a slightly differing number
is given, the observer can clearly perceive the identity or difference
of the two rows. If in the first test a row of six beats is given (row
A), and in the second a row of nine, it appears in repeating two rows
of the same length, that a precise recognition of identity is present
with row A, whereas with row B this is impossible. Even with seven or
eight beats recognition is very uncertain. We arrive therefore at the
same result as in our optical experiments. Six simple impressions form
the limit for the scope of attention.
[Illustration row A - row B]
Since this value is the same for optical and acoustical, for successive
and simultaneous impressions, it surely denotes some psychical constant
independent of any special sense. And in fact in using different kinds
of impressions we always arrive at the same result. The number six
with very minor variations denotes the maximum of simple impressions
that can be grasped by attention. If we choose syllables of any form,
that are not combined into words, and if we read out a row of such to
an observer, and require him to repeat them, we find that a correct
repetition is possible with a row such as the following:--
ap ku no li sa ro
Whereas it is not possible with a row like this:--
ra po su am na il ok pu
We notice that even with seven such senseless syllables the repetition
is generally unsuccessful. We may by practice become successful with
seven syllables. This is obviously exactly the same result as we
obtained above with our rows of metronome beats.
There still remains another phenomenon that coincides with this result.
It is the more worthy of note since it belongs to a third sense,
namely the sense of touch, and since it was discovered from practical
considerations quite independent of psychology. There had been many
futile attempts to discover the most useful method of printing for the
blind, before Braille, a French teacher of the blind, about the middle
of last century solved this important practical problem. He himself
had become blind, and was therefore in a better position than others
to make sure of the requirements that were necessary, by means of
experiments upon himself. He came to this result, that, first of all,
groups of distinct points were the only suitable means of establishing
letter-signs that could be easily distinguished, and that, secondly,
not more than six definite points were to be used for one letter. These
points must not spread over an extent greater than that which can be
covered by the sense of touch, if the symbols are to be distinguished
by the fingers of the blind with ease and certainty. He decided for an
arrangement of points as seen in Fig. I., out of which the alphabet for
the blind was arranged:--
[Illustration: Fig. I - II - III.]
This limitation to six points in certain positions certainly did not
come about by chance. This can clearly be seen from the fact that a
greater number, e.g. an arrangement of nine points as in Fig. III.,
would have greater practical advantages. By means of them it would have
been possible for example to represent the most important punctuation
marks or numbers with separate signs, a thing which is not possible
in Braille's type for the blind. But such complications in the
positions of the points are at once made useless by the fact that it is
impossible clearly to grasp the difference of such a large number of
points. Any one can convince himself of this by immediate observation,
if he arranges more than six similar signs and tries to distinguish by
touch alone. Thus we arrive again at the same limit that our metronome
and optical experiments led us to.
The importance of these results as to the scope of consciousness and of
attention does not lie merely in the fact that we are able to state the
relation of both in values that can be expressed in figures. Above all,
our results give us an important insight into the relations between
those elements that stand in the focus of attention and those that
belong to the wider field of consciousness. In order, then, to denote
clearly the most important results that have come to light in these
experiments, let us use two short expressions for the two processes
of the entrance into consciousness, and of the elevation into the
focus of attention--two expressions that were first of all introduced
by Leibnitz in a similar sense. We shall call the entrance into the
large region of consciousness--apprehension, and the elevation into
the focus of attention--apperception. We shall take no account of
the philosophical meanings, in which Leibnitz uses these expressions
in his theory of monads. We shall use these expressions purely in
their empirical and psychological sense. Accordingly we understand by
apprehension simply the entrance of some content into consciousness--an
entrance that can be in fact proved, and by apperception the grasping
of this by the attention. The apprehended content is that of which
we are more or less darkly aware; it is always, however, above the
threshold of consciousness. The apperceived content is that of which we
are clearly aware, or, keeping to the figure of speech of a threshold,
that which lies above the narrower threshold of attention. We can
further define the relation between these two regions of consciousness.
If the apperception is directed to one isolated element, the rest, the
merely psychically apprehended elements, disappear as if they were
non-existent. On the other hand, if the apperceived content is bound to
certain merely apprehended elements of consciousness, it is combined
into one total apprehension, which is only limited by the threshold
of consciousness itself. In close relationship with this stands the
fact that the scope of apperception is a relatively limited and
constant one, and that the scope of apprehension is not only larger,
but also much more variable. And, as we have clearly seen from our
comparison of simple and complex rhythmical rows, it varies according
to the scope of the psychical complexes that are united together into
one whole. Thereby the difference between the merely apprehended and
the apperceived parts of such a whole by no means disappears. For it
is only a limited part of this latter that lies within the focus of
attention, as has been strikingly shown in reading experiments, where
we can vary single and merely apprehended parts of a word, without
thereby disturbing the comprehension of the total complex. To use a
picture which is itself an example of this phenomenon, we may say that
that wider darkly apprehended content stands in the same relation here
as the chords of the piano accompaniment to the voice of the singer.
Slight variations in the former are mostly unobserved, so long as
the guiding voice is correct in pitch and rhythm. On the other hand,
the impression of the whole would be feeble if the accompaniment was
wanting.
In this relationship between the apprehended and apperceived content
of consciousness another factor appears, which brings to light the
great importance of the processes of apperception. We started out from
the fact that it was extremely difficult to apprehend with absolute
uniformity a row of identical beats, since we are always inclined to
accentuate certain beats. This phenomenon is clearly connected with a
fundamental characteristic of apperception, which intervenes in all
processes of consciousness. We know, from ordinary life, that we are
not able to direct our attention perfectly steadily and uniformly to
one and the same object. When we attempt to do this, we notice that
a continual change takes place in the apperception of the object
in question. At times the attention turns towards the object most
intensively, and at times its energy flags. Where the conditions remain
uniform, this change gradually becomes regular and periodic. The rise
of such a process is of course materially assisted, if the outside
impressions themselves, to which our attention is directed, possess a
regular periodicity. This is the case in a high degree with a row of
beats. And so it happens that those oscillations of apperception are
directly adjusted to the periodicity of the impressions. Therefore we
emphasise an impression that coincides with a rise in the apperception
wave, so that the beats which are in fact uniform become rhythmically
arranged. The manner of this arrangement depends to a certain degree
upon our own choice, and also upon the extent in which we are trying
to combine the single impressions into a whole. If the beats follow
each other very quickly, our endeavour to combine leads us easily
into complicated rhythmical arrangements, as we have in fact noticed
above. With other and especially with simultaneous impressions similar
relations between the apperceived and the merely apprehended content
of consciousness arise, but in varying form according to the sense in
question. For example, if we expose a very short word in our reading
experiments, the whole is easily apprehended at one glance. If,
however, we expose a long word, e.g. "miscellaneousness," we notice
at once, even by direct observation, that the apprehension time is a
little longer and that it really is made up of two or three very rapid
and successive acts of apperception, and these acts may last longer
than the actual time the impression is affecting consciousness. This
succession is seen more clearly, if instead of a word we expose a
sentence of about the same length as the following:--
"Honesty is the best policy."
Here the breaking up of apperception into successive acts is materially
assisted by the divisions of the words. With such a sentence we observe
as a rule three successive acts of apperception, and it is the last
that combines the whole into one unified thought. In such a case this
is only possible as long as the preceding parts of the sentence from
the last apperception remain in the field of consciousness. If the
sentence is so long that this cannot happen, then the same thing occurs
as we have observed with rhythmical rows of beats, that have passed
the limits of possible rhythmical arrangement. We can only combine
a part of such a successively exposed whole into one conclusive act
of apperception. It is obvious therefore that the two phenomena, the
apprehension of connected beats and of connected words and sentences,
are essentially the same. The only difference consists in the fact
that in the first case the apperceived impression is connected with
the preceding one, that has retreated into the apprehension field, by
means of the rhythmical arrangement, whereas the connection in the
second case is brought about by means of the sense that binds the word
or the parts of the word together. The process consists by no means
of a mere successive apperception of the parts. These have already
disappeared out of the apperception and have become merely apprehended
elements, when they are combined into one whole along with the last
apperceived impression. This act of combination is itself a uniform
and instantaneous act of apperception. From this we see that, in all
cases of a combination of a larger complex of elements, apperception
is the function that unites these elements, and that in general it
always combines directly apperceived parts of the whole with the merely
apprehended parts that stand in connection. And so the great importance
of the relations between these two functions of apperception and of
apprehension lies precisely in the great change of these relations
and in their adjustment to the needs of our psychical life, which
finds expression in this change of relation to each other. At times
the apperception concentrates upon a very narrow region, in order
completely to free itself from the enormous manifoldness of incoming
impressions. At other times, with the help of its capacity for grouping
together successive elements which arises from the oscillating nature
of its function, it winds its threads through a wide web of psychical
contents, that stretches over the whole field of consciousness.
Through it all apperception remains the unifying function which binds
that manifold content into one ordered whole. Contrasted with it and
subordinate to it, and in a certain sense acting as centrifugal forces,
are the processes of apprehension, which with apperception together
form the whole of our psychical life.