1. Pleasantness might represent a general _organic state_, and unpleasantness the contrary state, each state being an internal bodily response to pleasant or unpleasant stimuli, and making itself felt as an una.n.a.lyzable compound of vague internal sensations.

This theory of feeling is certainly attractive, and it would {176} account very well for all the facts so far stated, for the subjectivity of feeling, for its lack of localization, and for the absence of specific sense organs for the feelings. It would bring the feelings into line with the emotions. But the real test of the theory lies just here: can we discover radically different organic states for the two opposite feelings?

Numerous experiments have been conducted in the search for such radically different organic states, but thus far the search has been rather disappointing. Arrange to record the subject's breathing and heart beat, apply pleasant and unpleasant stimuli to him, and see whether there is any characteristic organic change that goes with pleasant stimuli, and an opposite change with unpleasant stimuli. You should also obtain an introspective report from your subject, so as to be sure that the "pleasant stimuli" actually gave a feeling of pleasantness, etc. Certain experiments of this sort have indicated that with pleasantness goes slower heart beat and quicker breathing, with unpleasantness quicker heart beat and slower breathing. But not all investigators have got these results; and, anyway, it would be impossible to generalize to the extent of a.s.serting that slow heart beat always gave a pleasant state of feeling, and rapid heart beat an unpleasant; for there is slow heart beat during a "morning grouch", and rapid during joyful expectation. Or, in regard to breathing, try this experiment: hasten your breathing and see whether a feeling of pleasantness results; slacken it and see whether unpleasantness results. The fact is that pleasantness can go with a wide range of organic states, so far as these are revealed by heart beat and breathing; and the same with unpleasantness. If there is any organic fact definitely characteristic of either state of feeling, it is a subtle fact that has. .h.i.therto eluded observation.

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2. Pleasantness might represent smooth and easy brain action, unpleasantness slow and impeded brain action. According to this theory, unimpeded progress of nerve currents through the brain is pleasant, while resistance encountered at the brain synapses is unpleasant. A stimulus is pleasant, then, because the nerve currents started by it find smooth going through the brain centers, and another stimulus is unpleasant because it finds the going poor.

While this theory looks good in some ways, and fits some cases very well--as the great unpleasantness of blocked reaction, where you cannot make up your mind what to do--there are two big objections to it. The first objection is found in the facts of practice. Practising any reaction makes it more and more smooth-running and free from inner obstruction, and should therefore make it more and more pleasant; but, as a matter of fact, practising an unfamiliar act of any sort makes it more pleasant for a time only, after which continued practice makes it automatic and neither pleasant nor unpleasant. The smoothest reactions, which should give the highest degree of pleasant feeling according to the theory, are simply devoid of all feeling.

The second objection lies in the difficulty of believing unpleasant stimuli to give slow, impeded reactions. On the contrary, the instinctive defensive reactions to unpleasant stimuli are very quick, and give no sign of impeded progress of nerve currents through the brain centers.

3. There is one fact, not yet taken into account, that may point the way to a better theory. Feeling is impulsive. In pleasantness, the impulse is to "stand pat" and let the pleasant state continue; in unpleasantness, the impulse is to end the state. The impulse of pleasantness is directed towards keeping what is pleasant, and the impulse of unpleasantness is directed towards getting rid of the unpleasant. In indifference there is no tendency either to keep or to be {178} rid of. These facts are so obvious as scarcely to need mention, yet they may be the core of this whole matter of feeling.

Certainly they are the most important facts yet brought out as relating feeling to conduct.

Putting this fact into neural terms, we say that pleasantness goes with a neural adjustment directed towards keeping, towards letting things stay as they are; while unpleasantness goes with an adjustment towards riddance. Bitter is unpleasant because we are so organized, by native const.i.tution, as to make the riddance adjustment on receiving this particular stimulus. In plain language, we seek, to be rid of it, and that is the same as saying it is unpleasant. Sweet is pleasant for a similar reason.

There is some evidence that these adjustments occur in that part of the brain called the thalamus. [Footnote: See p. 65.]

Sources of Pleasantness and Unpleasantness

Laying aside now the difficult question of the organic and cerebral nature of the feelings, we turn to the simpler question of the stimuli that arouse them. A very important fact immediately arrests our attention. There are two different kinds of stimuli for pleasantness, and two corresponding kinds for unpleasantness. The one kind is typified by sweet and bitter, the other by success and failure. Some things are pleasant (or unpleasant) without regard to any already awakened desire, while other things are pleasant (or unpleasant) only because of such a desire. A sweet taste is pleasant even though we were not desiring it at the moment, and a bitter taste is unpleasant though we had no expectation of getting it and no desire awakened to avoid it. On the other hand, the sight of our stone hitting the tree is pleasant only because we were aiming at the tree, and {179} the sight of the stone going to one side of the tree is unpleasant just for the same reason.

Some things we want.

Because we like them; Some things we like.

Because we want them.

We want candy, because we like the sweet taste; but we like a cold drink because and when we are thirsty and not otherwise. Thirst is a want for water, a state of the organism that impels us to drink; and when we are in this state, we like a drink, a drink is pleasant then.

How absurd it would be to say that we were thirsty because we liked to drink! when the fact is that we like to drink because we are thirsty.

The desire to drink must first be aroused, and then drinking is pleasant.

What is true of thirst is true of hunger, or of any organic need. The need must first be aroused, and then its satisfaction is pleasant.

This applies just as well to fighting, laughing, fondling a baby, and to all the instincts. It gives you no pleasure to strike or kick a person, or to swear at him, unless you are first angry with him. It gives you no pleasure to go through the motions of laughing unless you "want to laugh", i.e., unless you are amused. It gives you no pleasure to fondle the baby unless you love the baby. Let any instinct be first aroused, and then the result at which the instinct is aimed causes pleasure, but the same result will cause no pleasure unless the instinct has been aroused.

The same can be said of desires that are not exactly instinctive. At a football game, for example, when one of the players kicks the ball and it sails between the goal posts, half of the spectators yell with joy, while the other half {180} groan in agony. Why should the appearance of a ball sailing between two posts be so pleasant to some, and unpleasant to others? This particular appearance is by itself neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but because the desire to see this happen has been previously aroused in the partisans of one team, and the desire that it should not happen in the partisans of the other, therefore it is that the pleasantness or unpleasantness occurs. First arouse any desire, and then you can give pleasure by gratifying it, displeasure by thwarting it. This is the pleasure of success, and the unpleasantness of failure.

Pleasures of this cla.s.s may be named secondary, because they depend upon pre-aroused desires.

Primary Likes and Dislikes

Though many of the most intense pleasures and displeasures of life are of the secondary type, this fact must not blind us to the existence of the primary pleasures and displeasures, typified by sweet and bitter.

Any sensation with a p.r.o.nounced feeling-tone is a primary pleasure or displeasure. We like or dislike it just for itself, and without regard to the gratification of any pre-aroused instinct or desire.

There are natural likes and dislikes--apart from the satisfaction of instincts--and there are others that are acquired. In other words, there are native tastes and acquired tastes. Individuals differ considerably in their native tastes, and still more in their acquired tastes. Liking for sweets is native, liking for fragrant odors is native, but liking for lemonade, or black coffee, or olives, or cheese, is acquired, and not acquired by everybody. Liking for bright colors is native, but liking for subdued colors, and the special pleasure in color harmonies, are acquired. So we might {181} run through the list of the senses, finding under each some sensations with native feeling-tone, and other sensations that acquire feeling-tone through experience.

Some people have a native liking for numbers and other facts of a mathematical nature. We say of such a one that he has a natural taste for mathematics. Another has a natural dislike for the same. Some have a taste for things of the mechanical sort, others fight shy of such things. Some have a natural taste for people, being sociable creatures--which means more than being gregarious--while others are little interested in mixing with people, observing their ways, and the give and take of friendly intercourse.

Now the question arises whether these native likes and dislikes, for odors, colors, tones, numbers, machinery, and people, are really independent of the instincts. Some psychologists have insisted that all the interest and satisfaction of life were derived from the instincts, laying special stress on the instincts of curiosity and self-a.s.sertion.

With respect to our "natural liking for mathematics", these psychologists would argue as follows: "First off, curiosity is aroused by numbers, as it may be by any novel fact; then the child, finding he can do things with numbers, gratifies his mastery impulse by playing with them. He encounters number problems, and his mastery impulse is again aroused in the effort to solve the problems. Later, he is able to 'show off' and win applause by his mathematical feats, and thus the social form of self-a.s.sertion is brought into play. This particular child may have good native ability for mathematics, and consequently his mastery impulse is specially gratified by this kind of activity; but he has no real direct liking for mathematics, and all his industry in this field is motivated by curiosity and especially by self-a.s.sertion."

The instinct psychologists have a strong case here, as {182} they would have also in regard to the liking for machinery. Still, the mathematical individual would not be convinced, for he would testify that numbers, etc., made a direct appeal to him. Numbers, geometric forms, and algebraic transformations are fascinating to him, and there is something beautiful, to his mind, in the relationships that are discovered. The same could be said of the liking for plant or animal life that appears in the "born biologist". If the objects of the world make a direct appeal to the man whose mind is attuned to them, then his interest and zeal in studying them are not wholly derived from the instincts. The instincts come into play, truly enough, in all scientific work, and add impetus to it, but the primary motive is a direct liking for the kind of facts studied.

"Primary likes and dislikes" are still more clearly in evidence in the arts than in the sciences. Take the color art, for example. There can be no manner of doubt that bright colors are natively pleasant. Can we explain the liking for color as derived from satisfaction of the instincts? Is it due simply to curiosity? No, for then the color would no longer be attractive after it had ceased to be a novelty. Is color liked simply for purposes of self-display? No, this would not explain our delight in the colors of nature. Or do color effects const.i.tute problems that challenge the mastery impulse? This might fit the case of intricate color designs, but not the strong, simple color effects that appeal to most people. There is no escape from the conclusion that color is liked for its own sake, and that this primary liking is the foundation of color art.

Music, in the same way, is certainly based on a primary liking for tones and their combinations, as well as for rhythm. Novel effects also appeal to curiosity, musical performance is a means of display to the performer, and the problem set by a piece of music to the performer in the {183} way of execution, and to the listener in the way of understanding and appreciation, gives plenty of play to the mastery impulse. Besides, music gets a.s.sociated with love, tenderness, war and religion; but none of the impulses thus gratified by music is the fundamental reason for music, since without the primary taste for tone and rhythm there would be no music to start with, and therefore no chance for these various impulses to find an outlet in this direction.

Still another field of human activity, in which native likes and dislikes play their part alongside of the instincts, is the field of social life. The gregarious instinct brings individuals together into social groups, and probably also makes the individual crave partic.i.p.ation in the doings of the group. The s.e.x instinct lends a special interest to those members of the group who are of the opposite s.e.x, and the parental instinct leads the adults to take a protective att.i.tude towards the little children. Also, it is probably due to the parental instinct that any one spontaneously seeks to help the helpless. Self-a.s.sertion has plenty of play in a group, both in the way of seeking to dominate and in the way of resisting domination; and the submissive tendency finds an outlet in admiring and following those who far surpa.s.s us. Thwarted self-a.s.sertion accounts for many of the dislikes that develop between the members of a group. But none of these instincts accounts for the interest in personality, or for the genuine liking that people may have for one another.

Let a group of persons of the same age and s.e.x get together, all equals for the time being, no one seeking to dominate the rest, no one bowing to another as his superior nor chafing against an a.s.sumed superiority which he does not admit, no one in a helpless or unfortunate condition that arouses the pity of the rest. What an uninteresting affair! No instincts called into play except bare gregariousness! {184} On the contrary, such a group affords almost or quite the maximum of social pleasure. It affords scope for comradeship and good fellowship, which are based on a native liking for people, and not on the instincts.

Enough has perhaps been said to convince the reader that, besides the things we like for satisfaction of our instinctive needs and cravings, there are other things that we "just naturally like"--and the same with dislikes--and that these primary likes and dislikes have considerable importance in life.

Other Proposed Elementary Feelings

Pleasantness and unpleasantness are the only feelings generally accepted as elementary, though several others have been suggested.

Wundt's tri-dimensional theory of feeling.

This author suggested that there were three pairs of feelings: pleasantness and unpleasantness; tension and its opposite, release or relief; and excitement and its opposite, which may be called numbness or subdued feeling. Thus there would be three dimensions of feeling, which could be represented by the three dimensions of s.p.a.ce, and any given state of feeling could be described by locating it along each of the three dimensions. Thus, one moment, we may be in a pleasant, tense, excited state; another moment in a pleasant, relieved and subdued state; and another moment in an unpleasant, tense and subdued state, etc. As each feeling can also exist in various degrees, the total number of shades of feeling thus provided for would be very great, indeed.

Though this theory has awakened great interest, it has not won unqualified approval. Excitement and the rest are real enough states of feeling--no one doubts that--but the question is whether they are fit to be placed alongside of pleasantness and unpleasantness as elementary feelings. It {185} appears rather more likely that they are blends of sensations. In the excited states that have been most carefully studied, that is to say, in fear and anger, there is that big organic upstir, making itself felt as a blend of many internal sensations. Tension may very probably be the feeling of tense muscles, for tension occurs specially in expectancy, and the muscles are tense then.

Whether elementary or not, these feelings are worthy of note. It is interesting to examine the striving for a goal and the attainment of the goal with respect to each "dimension" of feeling. Striving is tense, attainment brings the feeling of release. Striving is often excited, but fatigue and drowsiness (seeking for rest) are numb, and self-a.s.sertion may be neutral in this respect, as in "cool a.s.sumption". Reaching the goal may be excited or not; all depends on the goal, whether it be striking your opponent or going to sleep. On the other hand, reaching the goal is practically always pleasant (weeping seems an exception here), while striving for a goal is pleasant or unpleasant according as progress is being made towards the goal, or stiff obstruction encountered.

The _feeling of familiarity_, and its opposite, the feeling of strangeness or newness, also have some claim to be considered here.

The first time you see a person, he seems strange, the next few times he awakens in you the feeling of familiarity, after which he becomes so much a matter of course as to arouse no definite feeling of this sort, unless, indeed, a long time has elapsed since you saw him last; in this case the feeling of familiarity is particularly strong.

The feelings of doubt or hesitation, and of certainty or a.s.surance, also deserve mention as possibly elementary.

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EXERCISES

1. Outline the chapter.

2. Complete the sentence, "I feel_____" in 20 different ways (not using synonyms), and measure the time required to do this.

3. What can be meant by speaking in psychology of only two feelings, when common speech recognizes so many?

4. If the states of mind designated by the words, "feeling sure", or "feeling bored", are compound states, what elements besides the feelings of pleasantness and unpleasantness may enter into the compounds?