It seems to me quite certain that we can and do think things without thinking of any sound or words. Language seems to me to be necessary to the progress of thought, but not at all necessary to the mere act of thinking. It is a product of thought: a vehicle for the communication of it, a channel for the conveyance of it, and an embodiment which is essential to its growth and continuity. But it seems to be altogether erroneous to represent it as an inseparable part of cogitation. Donkeys and dogs are without true thought, not because they are speechless, but they are speechless because they have no abstract ideas, and no true reasoning powers. In parrots the power of mere articulation exists sometimes in wonderful perfection. But parrots are not so clever as many other birds which have no such power.
Man’s vocal organs are correlated with his brain. Both are equally mysterious, because they are co-operative, and yet separable, parts of “one plan.”
Argyll.
That the language may be fitted for its purpose, not only should every word perfectly express its meaning, but there should be no important meaning without its word. Whatever we have occasion to think of often, and for scientific purposes, ought to have a name appropriated to it.
J. S. Mill.
VII
THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE
Three possible contingencies.
In the development of intellectual life three contingencies are possible.
1. The growth of the vocabulary may be more rapid than the acquisition of ideas.
2. The accumulation and development of ideas may exceed the ability to express them in language.
3. The acquisition of ideas and words, of thought and language, may be simultaneous.
Without doubt, these possibilities in mental growth exist for wise and beneficent purposes.
Words without ideas.
The tendency to acquire words without the corresponding ideas is, in at least one direction, a source of gain rather than loss. The pert phrases, profane words, and other objectionable language which the child accidentally hears from the lips of older persons, and at times uses to the unspeakable annoyance of parents and teachers, would be an occasion for far more serious alarm if the meaning were fully understood. Were it a law of our mental life that the hearing and learning of a profane or obscene word necessarily carried with it a clear grasp of the meaning, the resulting harm to the inner life of the soul would be immeasurably greater, and the stain upon the character would be vastly more difficult to remove. The objectionable language may mirror the habits of thought and speech into which those in charge of the child have fallen, awaken in them a new sense of their responsibility, and cause them to be more careful of what they say; or it may prove an index to the kind of company into which the child is drifting, and thus serve as a danger-signal to parent and teacher. When the mind has not learned to think the thought expressed, a simple warning against the use of such ugly words generally suffices to eradicate them from the child’s vocabulary; and in such instances it is a blessing in disguise that the learning of the words was not accompanied by the acquisition of their meaning. The loss to the intellectual life is more than balanced by the gain in moral training.
Thinking without words.
Is thinking possible without language? If by language is meant oral speech and written words, the sign-language of deaf mutes is sufficient to compel an affirmative answer to the question. Moreover, there are modes of thinking and of expressing thought other than by the use of words. Of the means of expressing thought without words, symbols like the ten digits and the sigma of the new psychology are well-known examples. The player in a game of chess, croquet, or billiards thinks movements in advance of making them, and generally without describing the same in words. The drawings and plans by means of which the architect designs a new building, the mental images of mechanical contrivances which precede the invention and construction of machines, the mental pictures used in designing, engineering, and sketching, in original geological thought, prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that thinking may go forward without words and sentences, and may find expression in ways better adapted to the needs of the artisan. The graphic method of presenting to the eye the results of an investigation is less cumbersome than any description in words. Some men depend so much upon mental pictures in their thinking that they assert they cannot think at all without them. In some kinds of gymnastic drill the movement is described in words, then conceived by the mind, and finally executed. This exercise has a different educational value from the exercise in which the student simply imitates the movements of the teacher, the latter being an instance of thinking and expressing thought without the help of words. The speed with which many movements must be executed, as in fencing, legerdemain, athletic sports, the manipulation of the lever in the hands of the engineer, requires thinking without the intermediate agency of words and sentences. The time it takes for an idea to pass into words, and through them into actions, is measurably greater than the time required for the direct translation of thought into action. Although the difference in specific instances is measured by the fraction of a second, it would involve serious loss of time as well as energy in the handicrafts if thoughts could only pass into action through speech or written language.
Some persons run to mouth; others lack in this respect. To the former class belong those whose lips move in study; those who talk to themselves; and many whose paucity of ideas does not justify their superfluity of words. Let such a man be elected as a delegate to a synod or a convention, and the sessions will be prolonged beyond the usual time. As a rule, the energy of such men is exhausted in speech; they are not noted for getting things done. On the other hand, the men of great executive ability are oftentimes men of few words; their thought is translated into doing rather than talking. The man of deeds is always estimated above the man of words, the general above the orator, CÆsar the commander above CÆsar the orator. Sometimes the men of original turn of mind find that their thinking outstrips their power to express thought. Francis Galton says of himself, “It is a serious drawback to me in writing that I do not so easily think in words as otherwise. It often happens that after being hard at work and having arrived at results that are perfectly clear and satisfactory to myself, when I try to express them in language I feel that I must begin by putting myself on quite a different intellectual plane; I have to translate my thoughts into a language that does not run evenly with them. I therefore waste a great deal of time in seeking for appropriate words and phrases, and am conscious, when required to speak on a sudden, of being often obscure through mere verbal maladroitness, and not through want of clearness of perception. This is one of the small annoyances of my life. I may add that often while engaged in thinking out something I hatch an accompaniment of nonsense-words, just as notes of a song might accompany the thought. Also, that after I have made a mental step, the appropriate word frequently follows as an echo; as a rule, it does not accompany it.”
Knowing and telling.
This throws a new light upon one phase of school work. The boy who has a notion of the content of a lesson sometimes stops in the midst of a recitation and, without premeditation, exclaims, “I know it, but cannot say it.” The teacher retorts, “You do not know what you cannot express.” Both are right and both are wrong. There is, probably, a measure of truth in what each claims. If the pupil had mastered the text, he would not only have a clear idea of the lesson, but he would also have acquired from the book or from the teacher the words to express the idea. Nevertheless, if there is reason for thinking that the pupil has devoted reasonable time to the lesson, his linguistic powers should be developed by questions and other appropriate help. The good sense and native instincts of most teachers lead them to give this help. The teacher whose captious disposition issues in remarks calculated to repress a backward pupil’s powers of expression should find employment outside of the school-room.
Foreign-born children.
The child of foreigners may outstrip native children and astonish the school by unprecedented progress because, being already familiar with the ideas of the lesson, it is compelled simply to acquire the language by which the ideas are expressed. By reason of their inability at first to tell what they know, such children are often classified with those less mature, and the mastery of the new language in their case is not as difficult as the mastery of new ideas for which brain-growth may be the essential condition. To ignore the fact that such children often know more than they can tell is pedagogic folly in the highest degree.
Language clarifies thought.
Literary societies.
Courses of study are sometimes mapped out so as to cause inequality in the pace with which ideas are accumulated and language is developed. Undue stress on grammar, rhetoric, and belles-lettres may cause abnormal development in the direction of flowery language, a verbose style, an ornate diction. It is a fault difficult to correct. To insist that such a student shall have something to say, to force him into studies that will bring him face to face with great questions as yet unsettled, to beget in him a state of mind in which he is troubled with ideas, to compel him to work over and over what he writes until his sentences are as clear as crystals, seems necessary to counteract the one-sided development of such students. The curriculum of study may err on the other side. The graduates in the various courses of engineering (civil, electrical, mechanical, and mining) sometimes develop technical, to the neglect of linguistic, skill. In the presence of a body of capitalists they are made deeply conscious of the difference between the ability to think and the ability to express thought.[14] In one large school of technology the graduates established prizes in English composition and endowed chairs of the English language and literature, so that future students might acquire the power to state in clear and intelligible language the results of their work as specialists. In no long time it was discovered that for this purpose they also needed training in an art similar to that of the teacher,—namely, the art of developing the ideas and thoughts which underlie and condition the engineering project under consideration. For him who would be a leader among men, the ability to express thought is quite as important as the ability to think. Moreover, there is a vast difference between ability to express thought on one’s feet in the presence of an audience and ability to express it on paper in the privacy of the home. J. J. Rousseau and Washington Irving could write well, but neither of them could make a speech. Patrick Henry’s eloquence before an audience was unsurpassed; he never could write a satisfactory report. Power in both directions may be acquired in a college course through the exercises of a good debating society. The student who, during four years, carefully writes out his thoughts, then discards his manuscript while speaking, and studies how he can best convince his hearers and how he can prune himself of the defects pointed out by the merciless criticism of his fellows, can feel sure of ultimate success. President Barnard says of one of our largest institutions that half its glory departed when its literary societies were killed through the influence of the Greek letter fraternities. A public speaker who is a slave to his manuscript is deserving of pity. College authorities may well exercise their ingenuity in finding a substitute for the drill and practice which the literary societies of by-gone days afforded in learning to think and to express thought in the face of opposition, criticism, and other unfavorable conditions.
Influence of language upon thinking.
Teaching English.
Thought and language exercise a reciprocal influence. Thought is stimulated and clarified by the effort to express it. Often it is shaped by the limitations of one’s vocabulary and the range of the words with which one’s hearers or readers are familiar. The faded metaphors of language betray us into fallacies. Phrases like the witness of the spirit, total depravity, have led to extravagant expectations and unwarranted conclusions. People sometimes have a religious phraseology without a corresponding religious experience, and hence deceive themselves and others. Everywhere we see instances that go to show how important it is that the development of the power to think should keep pace with the growth of the power to express thought. Very much is said in these days about the use of good English. As Adam threw the blame upon Eve, and Eve cast it upon the Serpent, so every one blames some one else for the poor English used at school and college. In the end the teachers are usually made to bear most of the blame: the college professor blames the teachers in the high school; these, in turn, blame the teachers in the lower grades; and when the matter is cast up to the primary teacher, she throws the blame upon the street and the home. A professor in the college department of a university gave many ludicrous specimens of English in the work handed to him by students. He was asked of what college class he had charge, and when he replied the sophomore, a high-school teacher suggested that the specimens reflected quite as much upon the teachers of the freshman class as upon the schools below the university.
The committee.
A women’s society in one of our large cities sent a committee to the superintendent to complain of the poor English used by the children in the schools. He agreed that strenuous efforts should be made to provide a remedy. He added, “If you will take care of the English in the homes and on the streets, I will get the teachers to look after the English in the schools.” Instead of throwing blame upon others, it were far more sensible for each educated person to ask wherein he is to blame for setting others a bad example and wherein he can help the teachers of English to accomplish the desired result.
Aim.
The aim in teaching English is twofold,—first, to get the student to appreciate good English and good literature; secondly, to get him to use it in speaking and writing. The latter end cannot be reached by mere practice in essay-writing. Ability to think is a condition of ability to express thought. Too many of the subjects assigned lay stress upon the forms of speech and not upon the content of language. When pupils think in words and disconnected phrases rather than sentences, when they violate the rules for capitals, punctuation, and paragraphs, the teachers of English may be solely to blame; but, in so far as the use of good English depends upon good thinking, the blame for the use of faulty language rests upon all who teach. If the ability to think is not developed in proportion to the use of language, the school will produce stylists who exalt the forms of speech above their content, slaves of beautiful and flowery language who resemble the fops and dudes of social life. To emancipate from such slavery requires more than an emancipation proclamation from the president of a college association.
Linguistic studies.
Language tributary to thinking.
The labors of the brothers Grim, Max MÜller, and others have reduced the knowledge of language to a science. Linguistic studies have become as interesting as any branch of natural science. They shed new light upon the history of mankind. In furnishing material for thought, as well as mental discipline, they are not inferior to any other study in the curriculum. It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that philological studies are superior to other disciplines as means for developing power to think and power to express thought. The professor of any language is apt to regard that language as an end, and not as means to an end. Primarily, language is a medium of communication. It distinguishes man from the brute creation, and furnishes him the instruments of thought by which he carries forward processes of reasoning beyond the reach of the lower animals. At the university language in general, or any particular language, may be studied as a specialty, and can thus be made an end in itself as appropriately as any other subject which is studied for its own sake. In the lower schools language should always be made tributary to the art of thinking. It should be employed to embody thought, and to convey thought, without intruding itself upon our attention as the thing of chief value. Any phase of linguistic study may be lifted by an enthusiastic teacher into the chief place in the course of study. Orthography has sometimes been taught as if it were the chief end of man to spell correctly. Grammar has been taught as if a faulty sentence were one of the sins forbidden by the Decalogue, and as if the fate of the republic depended upon parsing, analysis, and diagramming. The pronunciation of words may be emphasized until the lips of teacher and pupil smack of an overdose of dictionary, until the overdoing of obscure vowels draws attention away from the thought to the manner of utterance. A sensible man articulates his words in such a manner as readily to be understood, but never in such a way as to excite remark or draw the mind of the listener from the subject-matter of the discourse.
In educational practice, the manner of expressing the thought should not supplant the more important art of making the pupil think. Getting and begetting thought are of more consequence than the expression of thought; in fact, they condition the correct use of language. All talk about English, or German, or Spanish, or Latin, or Greek, as if any one of these languages were an end in itself for the average pupil, is wide of the mark. Correct sentences, beautiful expressions, and rhetorical phrases can never make a nation great or perpetuate its free institutions. Flowery language can never save a dying sinner or console the widow who is following the bier of a son, her only child and support. Fine words never win a battle by land or by sea. The most eloquent orations against Philip of Macedon did not keep him from destroying the liberties of Greece.
Correct and forceful language is a gift to be coveted, a prize worth striving for; but it should never be made the all-absorbing aim of education. The teacher of any phase of language must for a time make his instruction the object of chief concern; but he should never ignore the fact that language is and ever should be an aid to thought, a stimulus to thinking, an embodiment of ideas, a medium of communication, a means to an end.
