Mental Evolution in Man: Origin of Human Faculty

by George John Romanes

“The next operation we may observe in the mind about its ideas, is composition; whereby it puts together several of those simple ones it has received from sensation and reflection, and combines them into complex ones. Under this head of composition may be reckoned also that of enlarging; wherein, though the composition does not so much appear as in more complex ones, yet it is nevertheless a putting several ideas together, though of the same kind. Thus, by adding several units together, we make the idea of a dozen; and by putting together the repeated ideas of several perches, we frame that of a furlong.

“In this, also, I suppose, brutes come far short of men; for though they take in, and retain together several combinations of simple ideas, as possibly the shape, smell, and voice of his master make up the complex idea a dog has of him, or rather are so many distinct marks whereby he knows him; yet I do not think they do of themselves ever compound them, and make complex ideas. And perhaps even where we think they have complex ideas, it is only one simple one that directs them in the knowledge of several things, which possibly they distinguish less by sight than we imagine; for I have been credibly informed that a bitch will nurse, play with, and be fond of young foxes, as much as, and in place of, her puppies; if you can but get them once to suck her so long, that her milk may go through them. And those animals, which have a numerous brood of young ones at once, appear not to have any knowledge of their number: for though they are mightily concerned for any of their young that are taken from them whilst they are in sight or hearing; yet if one or two be stolen from them in their absence, or without noise, they appear not to miss them, or have any sense that their number is lessened.”[20]

Now, from the whole of this passage, it is apparent that the “comparing,” “compounding,” and “enlarging” of ideas which Locke has in view, is the conscious or intentional comparing, compounding, and enlarging that belongs only to the province of reflection, or thought. He in no way concerns himself with such powers of “comparing and compounding of ideas” as he allows that animals present, unless it can be shown that animals are able to “cast about and consider in what circumstances they are capable to be compared.” And then he adds, “Therefore, I think, beasts compare not their ideas further than some sensible circumstances annexed to the objects themselves. The other power of comparing, which may be observed in men, belonging to general ideas, and useful only to abstract reasonings, we may probably conjecture beasts have not.” So far, then, it seems perfectly obvious that Locke believed animals to present the power of “comparing and compounding” “simple ideas,” up to the point where such comparison and composition begins to be assisted by the power of reflective thought. Therefore, when he immediately afterwards proceeds to explain abstraction thus: “The same colour being observed to-day in chalk or snow, which the mind yesterday received from milk, it considers that appearance alone, makes it a representative of all of that kind; and having given it the name whiteness, it by that sound signifies the same quality, wheresoever it be imagined or met with; and thus universals, whether ideas or terms, are made”—when he thus proceeds to explain abstraction, we can have no doubt that what he means by abstraction is the power of ideally contemplating qualities as separated from objects, or, as he expresses it, “considering appearances alone.” Therefore I conclude, without further discussion, that in the terminology of Locke the word abstraction is applied only to those higher developments of the faculty which are rendered possible by reflection.

Now, on what does this power of reflection depend? As we shall see more fully later on, it depends on Language, or on the power of affixing names to abstract and general ideas. So far as I am aware, psychologists of all existing schools are in agreement upon this point, or in holding that the power of affixing names to abstractions is at once the condition to reflective thought, and the explanation of the difference between man and brute in respect of ideation.

It seems needless to dwell upon a matter where all are agreed, and concerning which a great deal more will require to be said in subsequent chapters. At present I am only endeavouring to ascertain the ground of difference between those psychologists who attribute, and those who deny to animals the faculty of abstraction. And I think I am now in a position to render this point perfectly clear. As we have already seen, and we shall frequently see again, it is allowed on all hands that animals in their ideation are not shut up to the special imaging (or remembering) of particular perceptions; but that they do present the power, as Locke phrases it, of “taking in and retaining together several combinations of simple ideas.”[21] The only question, then, really is whether or not this power is the power of abstraction. In the opinion of some psychologists it is: in the opinion of other psychologists it is not. Now, on what does an answer to this question depend? Clearly it depends on whether we hold it essential to an abstract or general idea that it should be incarnate as a word. Under one point of view, to “take in and retain together several combinations of simple ideas,” is to form a general concept of so many percepts. But, under another point of view, such a combination of simple ideas is only then entitled to be regarded as a concept, when it has been conceived by the mind as a concept, or when, in virtue of having been bodied forth in a name, it stands before the mind as a distinct and organic offspring of mind—so becoming an object as well as a product of ideation. For then only can the abstract idea be known as abstract, and then only can it be available as a definite creation of thought, capable of being built into any further and more elaborate structure of ideation. Or, to quote M. Taine, who advocates this view with great lucidity, “Of our numerous experiences [i.e. individual perceptions of a show of araucarias] there remain on the following day four or five more or less distinct recollections, which obliterated themselves, leave behind in us a simple, colourless, vague representation, into which enter as components various reviving sensations, in an utterly feeble, incomplete, and abortive state. But this representation is not the general or abstract idea. It is but its accompaniment, and, if I may say so, the one from which it is extracted. For the representation, though badly sketched, is a sketch, the sensible sketch of a distinct individual; in fact, if I make it persist and dwell upon it, it repeats some special visual sensation; I see mentally some outline which corresponds only to some particular araucaria, and, therefore, cannot correspond to the whole class: now, my abstract idea corresponds to the whole class; it differs, then, from the representation of an individual. Moreover, my abstract idea is perfectly clear and determinate; now that I possess it, I never fail to recognize an araucaria among the various plants I may be shown; it differs, then, from the confused and floating representation I have of some particular araucaria. What is there, then, within me so clear and determinate, corresponding to the abstract character, corresponding to all araucarias, and corresponding to it alone? A class-name, the name araucaria.... Thus we conceive the abstract characters of things by means of abstract names which are our abstract ideas, and the formation of our abstract ideas is nothing more than the formation of names.”[22]

The real issue, then, is as to what we are to understand by this term abstraction, or its equivalents. If we are to limit the term to the faculty of “taking in and retaining together several combinations of simple ideas,” plus the faculty of giving a name to the resulting compound, then undoubtedly animals differ from men in not presenting the faculty of abstraction; for this is no more than to say that animals have not the faculty of speech. But if the term in question be not thus limited—if it be taken to mean the first of the above-named processes irrespective of the second,—then, no less undoubtedly, animals resemble men in presenting the faculty of abstraction. In accordance with the former definition, it necessarily follows that “we conceive the abstract characters of things by means of abstract names which ARE our abstract ideas;” and, therefore, that “the formation of our abstract ideas is nothing more than the formation of names.” But, in accordance with the latter view, great as may be the importance of affixing a name to a compound of simple ideas for the purpose of giving that compound greater clearness and stability, the essence of abstraction consists in the act of compounding, or in the blending together of particular ideas into a general idea of the class to which the individual things belong. The act of bestowing upon this compound idea a class-name is quite a distinct act, and one which is necessarily subsequent to the previous act of compounding: why then, it may be asked, should we deny that such a compound idea is a general or abstract idea, only because it is not followed up by the artifice of giving it a name?

In my opinion so much has to be said in favour of both of these views that I am not going to pronounce against either. What I have hitherto been endeavouring to do is to reveal clearly that the question whether or not there is any difference between the brute and the man in respect of abstraction, is nothing more than a question of terminology. The real question will arise only when we come to treat of the faculty of language: the question before us now is merely a question of psychological classification, or of the nomenclature of ideas. Now, it appears to me that this question admits of being definitely settled, and a great deal of needless misunderstanding removed, by a slight re-adjustment and a closer definition of terms. For it must be on all hands admitted that, whether or not we choose to denominate by the word abstraction the faculty of compounding simple ideas without the faculty of naming the compounds, at the place where this additional faculty of naming supervenes, so immense an accession to the previous faculty is furnished, that any system of psychological nomenclature must be highly imperfect if it be destitute of terms whereby to recognize the difference. For even if it were conceded by psychologists of the opposite school that the essence of abstraction consists in the compounding of simple ideas, and not at all in the subsequent process of naming the compounds; still the effect of this subsequent process—or additional faculty—is so prodigious, that the higher degrees of abstraction which by it are rendered possible, certainly require to be marked off, or to be distinguished from, the lower degrees. Without, therefore, in any way prejudicing the question as to whether we have here a difference of degree or a difference of kind, I will submit a classification of ideas which, while not open to objection from either side of this question, will greatly help us in our subsequent treatment of the question itself.

The word “Idea” I will use in the sense defined in my previous work—namely, as a generic term to signify indifferently any product of imagination, from the mere memory of a sensuous impression up to the result of the most abstruse generalization.[23]

By “Simple Idea,” “Particular Idea,” or “Concrete Idea,” I understand the mere memory of a particular sensuous perception.