Of course it is possible to do a thing well—it is possible to follow the rule for doing it—without knowing the rule. If a man take a live interest in a subject he will naturally tend to look at it from a number of different viewpoints. If he be eternally on the lookout for errors and fallacies in his own thinking he will gradually evolve a logic of his own. And this logic will be concrete, not abstract; it will be something built into, an integral part of, concrete thought, and he will be constantly strengthening the habit of using it. Compared with the logic of the books it may be crude, but it will not consist of mere rules, which can be recited but which are seldom applied.
So with grammar. Instance the writer’s experience with German. Few native Germans could recite offhand what prepositions govern the genitive, dative and accusative, even if they knew what was meant by these terms. But they would (most of them) use these cases correctly, and without the least thought. The educated Englishman or American flatters himself that his correct speech is due to his study of grammar. This is far from true. His speech is due to unconscious imitation of the language of the people with whom he comes into contact, and of the books he reads. And needless to say, the cultivated man comes into contact with other cultivated men and with good literature; the ignoramus does not.
Most of our thinking is influenced in this way. The great thinkers of the past improved their innate powers not by the study of rules for thinking, but by reading the works of other great thinkers, and unconsciously imitating their habitual method and caution.
The fact to remember is that a rule is something that has been formulated after the thing which it rules. It is merely an abstract of current practice or of good practice. Rules are needful because they teach in little time what would otherwise require much experience to learn, or which we might never discover for ourselves at all. They help us to learn things right in the beginning; they prevent us from falling into wrong habits. The trouble with unsupplemented imitation, conscious or unconscious, is that we tend to imitate another’s faults along with his virtues. Rules enable us to distinguish, especially if we have learned the reason for the rules.
But practice and rules should not be compared as if they were opposed. The true road is plenty of practice with conscientious regard to rule. It may be insisted that this has its limits; that there is a point beyond which a man cannot improve himself. I admit that practice has its limits. It may be true that there is a point beyond which a man cannot advance. But nobody knows those limits and no one can say when that point has come.
No two individuals profit in the same degree by the same practice. With a given amount one man will always improve faster than another. But the slower man may keep up with his more speedy brother by more practice. I shall not repeat here the fable of the hare and the tortoise. But any one who has discovered a flaw in his mental make-up, any one who believes that he cannot concentrate, or that his memory is poor, and that therefore he can never become a thinker, should find consolation in the words of William James:
“Depend upon it, no one need be too much cast down by the discovery of his deficiency in any elementary faculty of the mind. . . . The total mental efficiency of a man is the resultant of all his faculties. He is too complex a being for any one of them to have the casting vote. If any one of them do have the casting vote, it is more likely to be the strength of his desire and passion, the strength of the interest he takes in what is proposed. Concentration, memory, reasoning power, inventiveness, excellence of the senses—all are subsidiary to this. No matter how scatter-brained the type of a man’s successive fields of consciousness may be, if he really care for a subject, he will return to it incessantly from his incessant wanderings, and first and last do more with it, and get more results from it, than another person whose attention may be more continuous during a given interval, but whose passion for the subject is of a more languid and less permanent sort.”[25]
XI BOOKS ON THINKING
The reader who desires to study further on the subject of thinking will find a wide field before him—but he will have to search in cosmopolitan quarters. While much has been written on thinking, it has been in an incidental manner, and has found its way into books written mainly to illuminate other subjects. Among the few books or essays devoted exclusively or mainly to thinking may be mentioned:—John Locke, The Conduct of the Understanding; Isaac Watts, The Improvement of the Mind; Arnold Bennett, Mental Efficiency; T. Sharper Knowlson, The Art of Thinking; Arthur Schopenhauer, On Thinking for Oneself, in his Essays. The last is especially recommended. It is only about a dozen pages long, and is the most stimulating essay written on the subject. This, together with John Locke’s Conduct (which, by the way, is also fairly short) may be considered the two “classics” in the meager literature on thinking.
There is an extensive literature on the psychology of reasoning, on the “positive” science of thinking. The best single work on this subject is John Dewey’s How We Think. William James’ chapter on Reasoning in his Principles of Psychology might also be consulted with profit. S. S. Colvin’s, The Learning Process contains some interesting chapters bearing on thought.