ON CHILDREN.
We are here concerned with children who have not yet learned to speak, and with such alone. In contradistinction to animals, and to deaf-mutes when left to themselves, infancy represents a transitory state of which no upper limit can be fixed, seeing that speech appears progressively. The child forms his baby-vocabulary little by little, and at first imposes it upon others, until such time as he is made to learn the language of his country. We may provisionally neglect this period of transition, studying only the dumb, or monosyllabic and gesture phase.
The problem proposed at the end of the seventeenth century (perhaps before), which divided philosophers into two camps, was whether the human individual starts with general terms, or with particulars. At a later time, the question was proposed for the human race as a whole, in reference to the origin of language.
Locke maintained the thesis of the particular: “The ideas that children form of the persons with whom they converse resemble the persons themselves, and can only be particular.”
So, too, Condillac, Adam Smith, Dugald Stewart, and the majority of those who represent the so-called sensationalist school.
The thesis of the general was upheld by authors of no less authority, commencing with Leibnitz:
“Children, and those who are ill-acquainted with the language they desire to speak, or the matter whereof they discourse, make use of general terms, such as thing, animal, plant, in lieu of the proper terms which are wanting to them; and it is certain that all proper or individual names were originally appellative or general.”[23]
The problem cannot be accepted under this form by contemporary psychology. It is equivocal. Its capital error is in applying to the embryonic state of intelligence and of language, formulæ that are appropriate to adult life only—to the growing mind, categories valid for the formed intellect alone. A reference to the physiology of the human embryo will render this more intelligible. Has this embryo, up to three months, a nose or mouth? Is it male or female? etc. Students of the development of intra-uterine life in its first phases are very cautious in propounding these and similar questions in such a manner; they do not admit of definite answers. That which is in the state of envelopment and of incessant becoming, can only be compared remotely with that which is fixed and developed.
The sole permissible formula is this: Intelligence progresses from the indefinite to the definite. If “indefinite” is taken as synonymous with general, it may be said that the particular does not appear at the outset; but neither does the general in any exact sense: the vague would be more appropriate. In other words, no sooner has the intellect progressed beyond the moment of perception and of its immediate reproduction in memory, than the generic image makes its appearance, i. e., a state intermediate between the particular and the general, participating in the nature of the one and of the other—a confused simplification.
Recent works on the psychology of infancy abound in examples of these abstractions and inferior generalisations, which appear very early.[24] A few examples will suffice.
Preyer’s child (aged thirty-one weeks) interested itself exclusively in bottles, water-jugs, and other transparent vases with white contents; it had thus seized upon a characteristic mark of one thing that was important to it, to wit—milk. At a later period it designated these by the syllable môm. Taine records an analogous case of a child to whom mm and um, and then nim at first signified the pleasure of seeing its pap, and subsequently everything eatable. We are assisting at the genesis of the sign; the crude sound attached to a group of objects becomes at a later period the sign of those objects, and later still an instrument of substitution. Sigismund showed his son, aged less than one year, and incapable of pronouncing a single word, a stuffed grouse, saying “bird.” The child immediately looked across to the other side of the room where there was a stuffed owl. Another child having listened first with its right ear, then with its left, to the ticking of a watch, stretched out its arms gleefully towards the clock on the chimney-piece (auditory, not vocal, generic image).
Without multiplying examples known to every one, which give peremptory proof of the existence of abstraction (partial dissociation), and of generalisation, prior to speech, let us rather consider the heterogeneous nature of these generic images, the result of their mode of formation. They are in fact constructed arbitrarily,—as it were by accident, depending partly on the apprehension of gross resemblances, partly, and chiefly, on subjective causes, emotional dispositions, practical interests. More rarely they are based upon essential qualities.
John Stuart Mill affirms that the majority of animals divide everything into two categories: that which is, and that which is not edible. Whatever we may think of this assertion, we should probably feel much astonishment if we could penetrate and comprehend certain animal generalisations. In the case of children we can do more than assume. Preyer’s son employed the interjection ass (which he had forged or imitated) first for his wooden horse, mounted on wheels, and covered with hair; next for everything that could be displaced or that moved (carts, animals, his sister, etc.), and that had hair. Taine’s little girl (twelve months), who had frequently been shown a copy of an infant Jesus, from Luini, and had been told at the same time, “That is the baby,” would in another room, on hearing anyone ask her, “Where is the baby?” turn to any of the pictures or engravings, no matter what they were. Baby signified to her some general thing: something which she found in common in all these pictures, engravings of landscapes, and figures, i. e., if I do not mistake, some variegated object in a shining frame. Darwin communicated the following observation on one of his grandsons to Romanes:
“The child, who was just beginning to speak, called a duck ‘quack,’ and, by special association, it also called water ‘quack.’ By an appreciation of the resemblance of qualities, it next extended the term ‘quack’ to denote all birds and insects on the one hand, and all fluid substances on the other. Lastly, by a still more delicate appreciation of resemblance, the child eventually called all coins ‘quack,’ because on the back of a French sou it had once seen the representation of an eagle.”[25]
In this case, to which we shall return later, there was a singular mixture of intellectual operations: creation of a word by onomatopœia (resemblance) and finally an unbridled extension of analogy.
Such observations might be multiplied. They would only confirm this remark: the generic image varies in one case and another, because the condensation of resemblances of which it is constituted depends often upon a momentary impression, upon most unexpected conditions.
The development of numeration in the child takes us to some extent out of the pre-linguistic period; but it is advisable to consider it at this point. In the first place we have to distinguish between what is learnt and what is comprehended. The child may recite a series of numerical words that have been taught to him: but so long as he fails to apply each term of the series correctly to a number of corresponding objects, he does not understand it. For the rest, this comprehension is only acquired slowly and at a somewhat late period.
“The only distinction which the child makes at first is between the simple object and plurality. At eighteen months, he distinguishes between one, two, and several. At the age of three, or a little earlier, he knows one, two, and four (2 × 2). It is not until later that he counts a regular series; one, two, three, four. At this point he is arrested for some time. Hence the Brahmans teach their pupils of the first class to count up to four only; they leave it to the second class to count up to twenty. In European children of average intelligence, the age of six to seven years is required before they can count to ten, and about ten years to count to one hundred. The child can doubtless repeat before this age a numeration which it has been taught, but this is not what constitutes knowledge of numbers; we are speaking of determining number by objects.”[26] B. Pérez states that his personal observations have not furnished any indication contradictory to the assertions of Houzeau. An intelligent child of two and a half was able to count up to nineteen, but had no clear idea of the duration of time represented by three days; it had to be translated as follows: “not to-day but to-morrow, and another to-morrow.”[27]
This brings us back to the question, discussed above, of the numeration claimed for animals. Preyer tells us of one of his children that “it was impossible to take away one of his ninepins without its being discovered by the child, while at eighteen months he knew quite well whether one of his ten animals was missing or not.” Yet this fact is no proof that he was able to count up to nine or ten. To represent to oneself several objects, and to be aware that one of them is absent, and not perceived—is a different thing from the capacity of counting them numerically. If the shelves of a library contain several works that are well known to me, I can see that one is missing without knowing anything about the total number of books upon the shelves. I have a juxtaposition of images (visual or tactile), in which a gap is produced.
For the rest, much light is thrown on this question by Binet’s ingenious experiments. Their principal result may be summarised as follows.[28] A little girl of four does not know how to read or count; she has simply learnt a few figures and applies them exactly to one, two, or three objects; above this she gives chance names, say six or twelve, indifferently to four objects. If a group of fifteen counters, and another group of eighteen, of the same size, are thrown down on the table, without arranging them in heaps, she is quick to recognise the most numerous group. The two groups are then modified, adding now to the right, now to the left, but so that the ratio fourteen to eighteen is constant. In six attempts the reply is invariably exact. With the ratio seventeen-eighteen, the reply is correct eight times, wrong once. If, however, the groups are found with counters of unequal diameter, everything is altered. Some (green) measure two and one-half centimetres, others (white) measure four centimetres. Eighteen green counters are put on one side, fourteen white counters on the other. The child then makes a constant error, and takes the latter group to be the more numerous, and the group of fourteen may even be reduced to ten without altering her judgment. It is not until nine that the group of eighteen counters appear the more numerous.
This fact can only be explained by supposing that the child appreciates by space, and not by number, by a perception of continuous and not by discontinuous size—a supposition which agrees with other experiments by the same author to the effect that, in the comparison of lines, children can appreciate differences of length. At this intellectual stage, numeration is accordingly very weak, and restricted to the narrowest limits. As soon as these are exceeded, the distribution between minus and plus rests, not upon any real numeration, but upon a difference of mass, felt in consciousness.
In children, reasoning prior to speech is, as with animals, practical, but well adapted to its ends. No child, if carefully watched, will fail to give proof of it. At seventeen months, Preyer’s child, which could not speak a word, finding that it was unable to reach a plaything placed above its reach in a cupboard, looked about to the right and left, found a small travelling trunk, took it, climbed up, and possessed itself of the desired object. If this act be attributed to imitation (although Preyer does not say this), it must be granted that it is imitation of a particular kind,—in no way comparable with a servile copy, with repetition pure and simple,—and that it contains an element of invention.
In analysing this fact and its numerous analogues, we became aware of the fundamental identity of these simple inferences with those which constitute speculative reasoning: they are of the same character. Take, for instance, a scientific definition, such as that of Boole, which seems at first sight little adapted to this connexion. “Reasoning is the elimination of the middle term in a system that has two terms.” Notwithstanding its theoretical aspect, this is rigorously applicable to the cases with which we are occupied. Thus, in the mind of Preyer’s child, there is a first term (desire for the plaything), a last term (possession); the remainder is the method, scaffolding, a mean term to be eliminated. The intellectual process in both instances, practical and speculative, is identical; it is a mediate operation, which develops by a series of acts in animals and children, by a series of concepts and words in the adult.