No doubt many of my readers will discover from self-observation that they belong to this type. I have further noticed that all who have this mode of representation regard it as normal, and necessary, in anyone who knows how to read. This is a fallacy. I do not possess it myself in the faintest degree, and have met many others who resemble me.
Thus I was little prepared to discover this type; and had even reached my thirtieth observation without suspecting it, when I encountered such a clear case as to put me on the track. I was interrogating a well-known physiologist. To every word except Law and Form, he replied “I see them in printed characters” and was able to describe these accurately.
Even the words dog[83], animal, color, were unaccompanied by any image. He volunteered further information which may be reduced to the statement, “I see everything typographically.” The same holds good for concrete objects. If he hears the names of his intimate friends whom he meets every day, he sees the names printed; it is only by an effort of thought that he sees the image. The word “water” appears to him as if printed, and he has no vision of a liquid. If he thinks of carbonic acid, or nitrogen, he sees indifferently either the words printed or the symbols CO₂, N. He does not see the complex formulæ of organic chemistry, but the words only.
Surprised (from the reasons above indicated) at this observation—of the sincerity and precision of which there could be no doubt—I continued my investigation, and discovered this mode of thinking in general terms to be sufficiently common. Several cases indeed were as pure and as detailed as the one just cited. Thenceforward I adopted the habit of invariably asking at the close of my interrogatory “Did you see the words printed?”
Several people remarked that they had read a great deal, and corrected many proofs, and that this would account for their belonging to the typographical visual type. The influence of habit is certainly enormous, but is no adequate explanation here, since there are many exceptions. I have myself read and corrected many proofs, but no word ever appeared in my consciousness as printed, unless after considerable effort, and then vaguely. Hence this mode must be due in great part to natural disposition.
Among the compositors questioned I found: (1) That they saw my fourteen words printed in some special type, which they occasionally specified; (2) they had a concomitant image for semi-concrete terms; (3) for abstract terms no image accompanied the typographical vision. Here we have the superposition of two types: the one natural, and of primitive formation (concrete type), the other acquired, and of secondary formation (typographical visual type).
In short,—in many minds the existence of the concept is associated with a clear vision of the printed word and nothing beyond it.
3. Auditory Type.—In its pure form this seems to be rare. It consists in having in mind nothing but signs (auditory images) unaccompanied either by the vision of printed words or by concrete images. Possibly it may preponderate among orators and preachers; of this I have no documentary evidence. Musicians do not appear to belong to this type.
One very clear and complete case of the kind I have, however, encountered. This was a polyglot physician known as the author of several works, who for many years had lived among books and manuscripts. He has no trace of typographical vision, but all words “sound in his ear.” He can neither read nor compose without articulating; as the interest of his book or work grows upon him he speaks aloud—“He must hear himself.” In his dreams there are few or no visual images; he hears his voice and that of his interlocutors: “His dreams are auditory.” None of my words, even when semi-concrete, evoked visual images.