linked by the connecting threads of association and shall coalesce into effective wholes.
And if in the comparatively helpless human infant the congenital modes of response seem less organized than those of the chick, if there is a larger percentage of random and apparently aimless movements, if the organic management of the bodily estate is less definitely ordered by the terms of the hereditary bequest, if there is more of maternal guidance and fosterage; still the data are provided in a substantially similar way. The situations are indeed destined to become more complex, the distinctions which arise in consciousness are more numerous, the coalescence and association include a wider range and succession of salient points; a longer time is required to become acquainted with the transactions of a business conducted in a far greater number of centres: but, at least in the early stages, the data are of the same kind, and are emphasized in the same way. Presentation and re-presentation play a similar rôle; and the chief difference lies in the fact that less stereotyped congenital behaviour is supplemented by some guidance, probably far less than is generally supposed, from those who lovingly minister to the course of infant development.
No attempt can here be made to trace even in outline (an outline which must in any case be imaginary and conjectural) the sequence of situations which marks the course of mental development in its earlier stages. An example may, however, serve to show how the exercise of congenital tendencies may give rise to a new situation, and lead to a further development of behaviour.
I kept some young chicks in my study in an improvised pen floored with newspaper, the edges of which were turned up and supported, to form frail but sufficient retaining walls. One of the little birds, a week old, stood near the corner of the pen, pecking vigorously and persistently at something, which proved to be the number on the page of the turned-up newspaper. He then transferred his attention and his efforts to the corner of the paper just within his reach. Seizing this, he pulled at it, bending the newspaper down, and thus making a breach in the wall of the pen. Through this he stepped forth into the wider world of my study. I restored the paper as before, caught the bird, and replaced him near the scene of his former efforts. He again pecked at the corner of the paper, pulled it down, and escaped. I then put him back as far as possible from the spot. Presently he came round to the same corner, repeated his previous behaviour, and again made his escape.
Now, here the inherited tendency to peck at small objects led, through the drawing down of the paper, to a new situation, of which advantage was taken. The little drama consisted of two scenes, which may be sufficiently described as “the corner of the pen,” and “the open way,” this being the sequence in experience. Subsequently the first scene was again enacted in presentative terms, and there followed first a re-presentation of scene ii., with its associated behaviour, and then the presentative repetition of this scene. We may take this as a sample of the nature of a conscious situation which is effective in guidance. We have seen the nature of the elements (sensory data, including as essential those supplied by the behaviour itself, with a pleasurable or painful tone) which enter into such a situation; we have seen that they owe their primary origin to direct presentation, but that they may be subsequently introduced indirectly in re-presentative form; we have seen that the situation as a whole results from the coalescence of the data. There only remains the question how the felt situation takes effect on behaviour. And to this question, unfortunately, we can give but a meagre and incomplete reply. All we can say is, that connections seem to be in some way established between the centres of conscious control and the centres of congenital response; and that through these channels the responsive behaviour may be either checked or augmented (as a whole or in part), according to the tone, disagreeable or pleasant, that suffuses the situation. How this is effected we do not fully know.
III.—Later Phases in Mental Development
Some surprise may be felt that in our brief discussion of the early stages of mental development nothing has been said of percepts and concepts, nothing of abstraction or generalization. The omission is not only due to a desire to avoid the subtle technicalities of psychological nomenclature. It is partly due to the wish not to forejudge a difficult question of interpretation. Spirited passages of arms from time to time take place between psychologists in opposing camps, as to whether animals are or are not capable of forming abstract and general ideas; and untrained camp followers hang on the skirts of the fray, making a good deal of noise with blank-cartridge. The question at issue turns partly on the definitions of technical terms; partly, when there is agreement on this point, on the interpretation to be put on certain modes of behaviour. Nothing seems at first sight much easier than to say what we mean by an abstract idea or by a general idea. We are thinking about colour, which is both abstract and general—abstract, because in itself it is a special quality of visible objects floated off, so to speak, from other qualities, such as hardness and weight, shape and size; general, because it includes many different colours in one group. Looking up at the bookshelves, we see a volume with a red back. We neglect the shape, the contents, the lettering; it is the colour with which we are immediately concerned, which forms an important feature in the present thought-situation; and this is, in virtue of that situation, abstracted from the rest. But a chick a few days old may have acquired experience of several kinds of caterpillars much alike in shape and size; of which, one kind is ringed with orange and black. And while the others are eagerly seized, caterpillars of this kind are left untouched. It is not the size or the shape which is an effective element in the situation; it is the peculiar coloration of the cinnabar caterpillars. Now, does the effectiveness of this quality in the stimulus justify the inference that the chick forms an abstract idea of colour? That clearly depends on our definition of abstract idea, and on our inferences concerning the nature of the chick’s mind.
A dog lies dozing upon the mat, and hears a step in the porch without. His behaviour at once shows that this enters into the conscious situation. There is, moreover, a marked difference according as the step has the familiar fall of the master’s tread, the well-known shuffle of the irrepressible butcher’s lad, or an unfamiliar sound. These several situations are, without question, nicely distinguished. Let us suppose the situation of the moment is introduced by a strange footfall. It seems to suggest man; but this cannot be any particular man, since he is as yet invisible and is a stranger. Does the dog, then, frame a general idea of man? Does the chamois do so when, bounding across the snow field, he stops suddenly on scenting the distant footprints of a mountaineer? Do you do so when you hear the bleating of an invisible lamb in the meadow behind yonder wall? Here, again, the answers we give to these questions depend partly on the exact meaning of the term “general idea;” partly on our interpretation of what passes through the mind of the being concerned. We have sought, so far, rather to avoid than to answer these questions. We seem to be on safe ground so long as we content ourselves with saying that the orange and black of the cinnabar caterpillar, the strange footfall, or the trail of the mountaineer, enter as effective elements into the immediate conscious situation.
But when we pass to the higher phases of mental development we can no longer wholly ignore such questions. When we are dealing with intellectual human beings, there can be no doubt that they at least are capable of framing, with definite intention, and of set purpose, both general and abstract conceptions. And how do they reach these conceptions? By reviewing a number of past situations, analyzing them, intentionally disentangling and isolating for the purposes of their thought certain elements which they contain, and classifying these abstracts under genera and species—that is to say, into broader and narrower groups. The primary and proximate object of this process is to reach a scheme of thought by which the scheme of nature, as given in experience, can be explained. And, no doubt, underlying this primary object is the purpose of guiding future behaviour in accordance with the rational scheme which is thus attained. Man is sometimes described as par excellence the being who looks before and after. All his greatest achievements are due to his powers of reflection and foresight.
What share the symbolism of speech takes in the process briefly indicated in the last paragraph is the subject of much discussion. Without going so far as to urge that the very beginnings of reflective thought are inexplicable without its aid, it may be accepted as obviously