The Discipline of the Mind.

BY W. C. COUPLAND, M.A., B.SC.,

Lecturer on Mental and Moral Science at Bedford College, London.

VI. THE WILL AND ITS TRAINING-(continued). Much of the war of words that has been waged in respect of this question of the nature and extent of Will would have been rendered unnecessary, if it had been always understood that pleasure and pain are, in strict language, not 'motives' at all, except in relation to a character. Exaggerated stress laid upon the external factor, the represented pleasure and pain, has led to human beings being considered the creatures of circumstance; an excessive attention to the internal factor has given rise to the idea of a metempirical entity, playing at times the part of a deus ex machina by interfering with the psychical mechanism, a pure potency whose reality and actuality are far from being synonymous. It is here maintained that it is impossible (except logically) to separate will and manifestation of will, and that what we have to consider is the quite definite relation of the active side of mind to feeling. Frequently, it must be said, the feelings are of a very subtle and concealed kind, so that they do not form portions of distinct consciousness, and somewhat of the mystery that has hung round these voluntary processes is doubtless due to this circumstance; for it is by no means always possible to peer into the dark laboratory where the forces of the mind are elaborating in silence their marvellous products. But however obscure the subject always in detail remains, we know sufficient of the process now to clearly formulate the problem, and can always translate the fictitious abstractions of the schools into the language of concrete consciousness. We shall not be disturbed, eg., by associations of a metaphysical nature that have gathered round such a term as that of 'choice,' for instance. We shall regard it as a short expression for the fact that any particular resolution is chiefly dependent upon the internal factor, the spiritual fabric, which, although known in the main, will, in large part, always be unknown until revealed at the moment of action. selection is due to that which is somewhat vaguely styled 'the character,' which in part resembles, and in part is unlike, that of other individuals. This character is liable to modification, and hence the 'choice' may vary with the very same persons with the very same motives, for between the two occasions of choosing the individual may have been submitted to influences which render the situation a different one. Room is therefore found at this point for the part of the educator, and we accordingly pass to the consideration of the Training of the Will.

The

Let the nature of the problem be quite understood. Given human minds with certain susceptibilities and propensities, how to induce the adoption of a particular line of conduct. The methods will be different to some extent according to the numbers attempted to be influenced. An orator in dealing with a vast multitude can only appeal to the broadest principles of human nature. He must consider the multitude before him as a single plain individual, a being simplified to the mental and moral structure possessed by the average of mankind, and therefore not below the level of the time or much above it. In the same way the disciplinarian in dealing with a large body of youths; average juvenile nature must be assumed, and the discipline must be calculated for the average. But it is the same thing whether we deal with the average of a large number or the mean stratum of the nature of any one individual; and hence we may assume in all discipline of the will that certain motives will influence all alike. The appetites are common to all. The instinctive cravings which have reference to the life-preserving functions can be taken for granted as uniformly strong. Now the satisfaction of these primordial cravings up to a certain limit is essential for healthy existence, and the only danger here is of undue interference. As a rule, it may be taken for granted that the child knows its own wants best when these wants have reference to self-preservation. But there is, of course, a dubious margin; and for this reason, that a gratified appetite is wont to make its appearance hereafter in the guise of desire. A desire is a state of mind wherein we are subject to the fascination of some pleasure, now ideal, whose sweetness we have already tasted in the reality. Now as the gratification of all appetites is attended with pleasure, it is quite possible for the pleasure to become a distinct object to the mind, and for the craving to arise when there is no real need of the system. Besides the appetites, whose gratification is essential for healthy existence, there are secondary desires due to a certain way of living, a certain social environment, to anything, in short, which continued for a sufficient time comes to be craved so ardently that its absence is keenly felt. It is not always, indeed, easy to discriminate, especially in an advanced stage of civilisation, between those cravings which are of the essence, as one might say, of our being, and those recurring needs which have come to be a part of our ordinary life-routine. Directly, however, pleasure becomes an object for its own sake, we get an effective leverage for controlling the will. But the difficulty of the case is this, that, save in the case of the absolute needs of the constitution, the susceptibility varies so much that a very different discipline is necessary in some cases than in others. Next to primary appetite I think one might say that sociality is the strongest of all cravings. Of all modes of punishment at least absolute solitary confinement has always been recognised as the most painful, and resort to even a small measure of it should be very sparingly exerc'sed. As we must not yet enter, however, upon the general subject of moral education, but confine ourselves to the psychology of the will, we must be content with the foregoing illustrations of the endeavour to force an association between a certain course of conduct and consequent pain or pleasure. Of the two species of association the latter is by far the more desirable, but it cannot be said that it is the more forcible. There

is no mind, indeed, so fortunate in its constitution as to be guided by the lure of pleasure alone, and hence the one application of pain becomes the gravest of problems. There is, indeed, a self-rectifying power in both disciplines, for pleasure grasped in excess passes into pain, and pain applied beyond a certain point renders the nature obtuse and insensitive.

The end to be achieved in the discipline of the will is to raise a pleasure or pain in idea to the intensity of a pain or pleasure in reality, to make the individual act as he would act if the solicitation were there in all the urgency of a present feeling. It will be obvious that the most imaginative mind has the best chance of conforming his conduct aright without any extraneous aid in the shape of rewards and punishments. And undoubtedly it is so; only imagination may be strong or weak in relation to quite different things. But even so guarded, the remark will not be true unless along with the imagination can be the conviction of realisation. Now there is not always this co-existence between a vivid imagination and belief. We may very vividly depict all the harmful consequences of some indulgence, and yet have a secret hope that such consequences may be in some way averted. It is the characteristic of a normal mind to adjust its action to the probabilities of the prospective pains and pleasures. It is the mark of an unsound mind to see the better, and yet follow the worse, to be so possessed by an idea as to seek fruition utterly regardless of consequences. When action is not capable of being proportioned to motive the will is paralysed, and what training is possible must have for object the restoration of the physical or mental balance. But, if there be no derangement of the volitional mechanism, the processes available for attaining that self-mastery which lies at the foundation of all progress are the following.

As thoughts and feelings come and go according to purely natural law, it is frequently necessary to interfere with the current succession, and to turn into other channels, or wholly to subdue the energy of emotion. To accomplish these ends it is indispensable to acquire a habit of attention. We must gain the power of singling out certain less conspicuous portions of the train of thoughts, letting all else go, and dwelling upon the chosen objects until they occupy the whole field of consciousness. The lesson may be begun in the simplest act of observation, where the natural tendency to dwell on more striking objects is thwarted, and the gaze is concentrated on uninteresting details. So important is the acquisition of this power in the development of the will, that it is often the only weapon at our disposal for gaining the victory in the warfare of the inner life. The importance of it may be imagined when we reflect that the intellectual rains are always at the mercy of chance suggestions, hat there is no guarantee for correct associations eing formed in the haphazard conjunctions of rdinary experience. The firmest associations may in this way get formed before any selective power has been exercised.

The emotions exert their influence either directly in the shape of powerful, spontaneous impulses, or indirectly through association with some special ideas. The waves of feeling, never wholly insignificant, sometimes gather an unexpected strength, the causes being wholly unconscious, or an idea may leap into life in consequence of some casual suggestion. To subdue

our emotions directly by sheer force of will is impossible. The most effective course is to play one off against another. It is, indeed, a misuse of language to describe will as a source of energy; the office of the will is directive. The energy of the system is supplied by feeling. The control of any feeling, then, is either by releasing the springs of a contrary feeling, as when hate is quenched by love, or by diverting the emotional stream, by fixing the attention on thoughts that are linked with other more desirable feelings. The difference between the man of weak and of strong will lies in this, that the former allows himself to be at the mercy of the passing thought or transient emotion; the latter allows the thought of injurious consequences to act as a new motive, in addition to the present impelling forces. We have, at opposite ends of the volitional scale, the amiable yielding temperament, which gives up at the first assault, whose actions cannot be calculated upon, and the hard, unbending character to which the bare love of power ranks as sole motive. Where the one is self-destructive, by allowing its strength to be undermined, the other crushes, not controls the sensuous nature, and seals up the fountains of emotion. The desirable temperament is flexible without being weakly concessive, attains its ends with a due regard to changing circumstances. It requires a nice tact to know when to yield to the pressure of feeling, when to call up the opposing force of a permanent ideal. Man is not to be the sport of blind nature, but to be a law to himself. He has to rise out of the Fate of Nature, but in obedience to certain norms that are impersonal, which are valid not only for himself, but for all men. Self-control does not mean self-assertion. It means giving that weight to the various impulses which is their due as part of a well-ordered system.

To return, then, to our method of self-control. Its conditions and limits are well-defined. As volition means action determined by feeling (the only motorfeelings being pleasures and pains), a rightly directed volition signifies action not according to what we do feel, but according to what we should feel. Any instance of acquired self-command will illustrate the process. To be simply borne along by an impulse may be highly pleasurable, to follow some favourite pursuit, to read some enticing book (the opening for the training of the youthful will is usually afforded by such an instance); but a foresight of remote consequences reveals the greater worth of another course of conduct, for the moment painful, but productive of a more lasting pleasure, say the mastering of a scientific treatise. Only a highly-developed intelligence can be expected to vividly realise the advantages of such a course of action, and the strength of the motivepower must be increased by the coercive discipline of pain for neglect, that is by making the following the present impulse less pleasurable than performance of the prescribed task. But no educator will be satisfied by a merely coercive policy. Enforced obedience may engender habit, but habit thus produced is apt to degenerate into slavery. The last stage of the educational process consists in the calling into play one supreme motive, pleasure in the exercise of original power. When an end aimed at is accepted as our own end, then for the first time is the action rightly described as freely chosen or pre-eminently voluntary. In the education of the will two things are especially to be kept in view. The one is, that progress must at

first be very gradual. The control of thought, the direction of feeling, cannot proceed beyond a certain pace. To ask for much self-denial at the outset is to be utterly unreasonable. The other is, that each success is to be regarded as a plus, every failure as a minus quantity. Each victory over present inclination. for the sake of a more distant good makes, quite independently of the law of habit, the chance of a second victory easier by giving a new motive, viz., the memory of a victory achieved, and therefore adds a fresh stimulus to exertion. On the other hand the memory of failure is an obstructive force; the second attempt will be more arduous than the first, the natural inertia of the system being reinforced by a certain amount of belief that voluntary effort itself is vain. Hence the egregious folly of requiring efforts beyond the individual strength. Unless there is a probable certainty of success the will should not be called upon; an easier task must first be attempted; the inexperienced warrior must win his spurs on a less dangerous field. (To be continued.)

(6) If a man's income is £50 per quarter year, and he spends 8s. a week, what does he save?

(7) £4,763 18s. 9d. x 5,010.

Ans. £179 4s. cd.

Ans. £23,867,326 17s. 6d. (8) A forest of 5,024 acres was cut into fields, each containing 110 yds. How many fields were there? Ans. 221,056.

[N.B.-The fields are each less than an ordinary village school-room;-exquisitely ridiculous.-ED. of P. T.]

(9) A sum of money was distributed among 97 men and 87 women; each man got 1, 3 shillings, 2 half crowns, and 5 sixpences; each woman got half as much as a man. What was the amount of money? Ans. £214 5s. 3d.

(2) If I walk 120 yds. in 1 minute, how long will it take to go 3 miles ? Ans. 44 min. (3) A farmer pays a 4d. rent for every square yard of his farm. His whole rent is £363. of the farm in acres.

(4) 17 lbs. at 2 d. per lb.

...

...

Find the size Ans. 72 acres.

... £° 3 61

...

5 lbs. at is. 6d. per lb. 7 lbs. at 2s. 6d. per lb. 5 tins, each containing 17 lbs. at 7d. per lb.

...

...

...

9 7

Ans. £3 18 10

(5) 676 articles at £7 18s. 10 d. each.

(6) + + + Z.

Ans. £536 19s. 6d.

Ans. 24

STANDARD III.

(a) Page 101.-'When he reached......same time.' (b) Page 99.-'The butler.... ..best policy.'

STANDARD IV.

(a) Page 68.-'A Swiss hunter......down the cliff.' (b) Page 68.-' Chamois hunting......their escape.'

Reading and Recitation.

In Standards II., III, and IV., the 'Royal Historical Readers' and 'Royal Geographical Readers' were used, each being read alternately.

In Standard V., 'Robinson Crusoe.'
The repetition was severe throughout.

Geography.

STANDARD II.

Name the oceans. Name the continents. Point to each. What is an island? Point to and name islands on the map of world. What is a lake? Point to one in England. What is a peninsula? Point to one in England. What is a bay? Point to one on the map.

STANDARD III.

Relative positions of counties in South of Englandboundaries-islands in mouth of Thames-capesbays islands off south coast-towns in south counties.

STANDARD IV.

Name islands north of Scotland which are nearest to Scotland-islands on west. How many groups? Largest of outer Hebrides-a town on it. Largest of inner group. What do we get from Skye? What separates the two groups? River on the west of Scotland. Chief town on the Tay-what noted for? What town is a port for whale fishers? Town near Firth of Forth-what is its port? What is Dunfermline noted for? What is Paisley noted for? Town on Clyde? What is Aberdeen noted for?

Where is St. John's? British North America? What is between Erie and Ontario? How far do they fall? Where is Newfoundland? New Brunswick ? What is the Fraser River noted for? Rivers flowing north? Where is Halifax? Manitoba ? Rocky Mountains? Vancouver Isle ?

(Inspector asked children to point out places on the map.)

Publications Beceived.

Bell (G.) and Sons

Sallusti; Catilina et Jugurtha. By G. Longman. Blackie and Son

Robinson Crusoe.

Readings from Sir Walter Scott, with Notes. Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest.