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Title: The Mind of the Child, Part II

Author: William T. Preyer

Translator: Henry W. Brown

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Most recently updated: January 20, 2007

Language: English

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INTERNATIONAL EDUCATION SERIES

THE MIND OF THE CHILD

PART II

THE DEVELOPMENT
OF THE INTELLECT
OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING
THE MENTAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE HUMAN BEING
IN THE FIRST YEARS OF LIFE

BY
W. PREYER
PROFESSOR OF PHYSIOLOGY IN JENA

TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL GERMAN
By H. W. BROWN
TEACHER IN THE STATE NORMAL SCHOOL AT WORCESTER,
MASS.

NEW YORK
D. A P P L E T O N A N D C O M P A N Y

1895

Copyright, 1889,

BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.

EDITOR'S PREFACE.

This second volume contains the further investigations of Professor Preyer
on the mind of the child. The former volume contained the first and second
portions, devoted respectively to the development of the senses and of the
will. The present volume contains the third part, treating of the development
of the intellect; and three appendixes are added containing supplementary
matter.
Professor Preyer considers that the development of the power of using
language is the most prominent index to the unfolding of the intellect. He
differs with Professor Max Müller, however, on the question whether the
operation of thinking can be carried on without the use of words (see the
recent elaborate work of the latter on "The Science of Thought").
At my suggestion, the painstaking translator of this book has prepared a full
conspectus, showing the results of Professor Preyer's careful observations in
a chronological order, arranged by months. This considerable labor will
render the book more practical, inasmuch as it will enable each reader to
see at a glance the items of development of the child in the several
departments brought together in epochs. This makes it possible to institute
comparative observations under the guidance of Professor Preyer's method.
I think that I do not exaggerate the value of this conspectus when I say that
it doubles the value of the work to the reader.
William T. Harris.
Concord, Mass., November, 1888.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

PREFACE BY THE EDITOR v
CONSPECTUS SHOWING THE PROGRESS OF THE ix
CHILD BY MONTHS

THIRD PART.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

XVI.—DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHILD'S 3
INTELLECT INDEPENDENT OF LANGUAGE
XVII.— LEARNING TO SPEAK 33
1. Disturbances of Speech in Adults 34
(1) Periphero-Impressive or Perceptive 36
Disturbances,
(2) Central Disturbances, 37
(3) Periphero-Expressive or Articulatory 38
Disturbances,
2. The Organic Conditions of Learning to Speak 42
3. Parallel between the Disturbances of Speech in 45
Adults and the Imperfections of Speech in the
Child
I. Lalopathy, 47
The Impressive Peripheral Processes disturbed— 47
Deafness,
B. The Central Processes disturbed—Dysphasia, 47
(1) The Sensory Processes centrally disturbed, 47
(2) The Sensori-motor Processes of Diction 48
disturbed,
(3) The Motor Processes centrally disturbed, 49
C. The Expressive Peripheral Processes disturbed, 54
(1) Dyslalia and Alalia, 54
(2) Literal Pararthria or Paralalia, 56
(3) Bradylalia, or Bradyarthria, 57

II. Dysphasia, 58
III. Dysmimia, 62
4. Development of Speech in the Child 64
XVIII. FIRST SOUNDS AND BEGINNINGS OF 99
— SPEECH IN THE CASE OF A CHILD
OBSERVED DAILY DURING HIS FIRST
THREE YEARS
XIX.—DEVELOPMENT OF THE FEELING OF SELF, 189
THE "I"-FEELING
XX.— SUMMARY OF RESULTS 208

APPENDIXES.

APPENDIX A.—Comparative Observations concerning 221
the Acquirement of Speech by German and Foreign
Children
(a) Diary of the Child of the Baroness von Taube, of 261
Esthonia,
APPENDIX B.—Notes concerning Lacking, Defective, 272
and Arrested Mental Development in the First Years of
Life
APPENDIX C.—Reports concerning the Process of 286
Learning to See, on the part of Persons born blind, but
acquiring Sight through Surgical Treatment. Also some
Critical Remarks
I. The Chesselden Case, 286
II, III. The Ware Cases, 288
IV, V. The Home Cases, 296
VI. The Wardrop Case, 300
VII. The Franz Case, 306
Final Remarks, 312

A CONSPECTUS OF

THE OBSERVATIONS OF PROFESSOR PREYER ON

THE MIND OF THE CHILD.

ARRANGED CHRONOLOGICALLY BY MONTHS, FOR THE CONVENIENCE OF

THOSE WHO WISH TO VERIFY THESE OBSERVATIONS, OR TO

USE THEM AS A GUIDE IN THEIR OWN INVESTIGATIONS.

By H. W. BROWN.

FIRST MONTH.

SENSES.[A]

Sight.—Light.—Five minutes after birth, slight sensibility to light (2).
Second day, sensitiveness to light of candle (3). Sixth and seventh days,
pleasure in moderately bright daylight (3, 4). Ninth and tenth days,
sensitiveness greater at waking than soon afterward (3). Sleeping babes
close the eyes more tightly when light falls on the eyes (4). Eleventh day,
pleasure in light of candle and in bright object (3).
Discrimination of Colors.—Twenty-third day, pleasure in sight of rose-
colored curtain (6).

Movements of Eyelids.—First to eleventh day, shutting and opening of eyes
(22). Irregular movements (23). Lid closed at touch of lashes from sixth day
on (26). Twenty-fifth day, eyes opened and shut when child is spoken to or
nodded to (30).
Pleasure shown by opening eyes wide, displeasure by shutting them tightly;
third, sixteenth, and twenty-first days (31).
Movements of Eyes.—First day, to right and left (35). Tenth day, non-
coördinated movements (36). Third week, irregularity prevails (37).
Direction of Look.—Eleventh day, to father's face and to the light (43).
Upward look (43). Twenty-third day, active looking begins (44). Twenty-
third and thirtieth days, a moving light followed (44).
Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Twelfth day, hypermetropia (60).
Hearing.—First days, all children deaf (72). Fourth day, child hears noises
like clapping of hands (81). Eleventh and twelfth days, child quieted by
father's voice: hears whistling. Twenty-fifth day, pulsation of lids at sound
of low voice. Twenty-sixth day, starting at noise of dish. Thirtieth day,
fright at loud voice (82).
Feeling.—Sensitiveness to Contact.—At birth (97-105). Second and third
days, starting at gentle touches. Seventh day, waked by touch on face (105).
Eleventh day, lid closed at touch of conjunctiva more slowly than in adults
(103).
Perception of Touch.—First gained in nursing (110).
Sensibility to Temperature.—At birth, cooling unpleasant. Warm bath
agreeable. Seventh day, eyes opened wide with pleasure from bath (112).
First two or three years, cold water disagreeable (114). Mucous membrane
of mouth, tongue, lips, very sensitive to cold and warmth (115).
Taste.—Sensibility.—At birth (116-118). First day, sugar licked (118).
Second day, milk licked (119). Differences among newly-born (120).
Sensation not merely general (122).
Comparison of Impressions.—During nursing period child prefers sweet
taste (123). Second day, child accepts food that on the fourth he refuses

(124).
Smell.—Faculty at Birth.—Strong-smelling substances produce mimetic
movements (130).
Discrimination.—Eighth day, groping about for nipple (134).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Pleasure.—First day, in nursing; in
the bath; in the sight of objects; in the light (141).
Discomfort.—First days, from cold, wet, hunger, tight clothing, etc. (147).
Hunger.—First days, manifested in sucking movements, crying, restlessness
(152). Cry differs from that of pain or of satisfaction. Other signs of hunger
(153).
Satiety.—Third to fifth week, the nipple pushed away with the lips: mouth-
piece of bottle ditto. Tenth day, smile after eating. Fourth week, signs of
satisfaction; laughing, opening and half shutting eyes; inarticulate sounds
(157).
Fatigue.—From crying and nursing (159). Second and third weeks, from
use of senses (160). First month, sleep lasts two hours; sixteen of the
twenty-four hours spent in sleep (162).

WILL.

Impulsive Movements.—Outstretching and bending of arms and legs just
after birth; contractions, spreading and bending of fingers (205). Grimaces
(207). Wrinkling of forehead (309). First day, arms and legs take same
position as before birth (206). Second week, stretching of limbs after
waking (205).
Reflex Movements.—In case of light-impressions (34-42). First cry (213).
Sneezing of newly-born (214). Coughing, ditto. (216). Seventh day,
yawning (215). First day, spreading of toes when sole of foot is touched
(224). First day, hiccough (219). First five days, choking (218). Wheezing,
yawning (215). Seventh day, respiration irregular (217). Ninth day, clasping

(243). Tenth day, lips protruded (283). Fourteenth day, movement of left
hand toward left temple (220). Twenty-fourth day, snoring (215).
Instinctive Movements.—First to third day, hands to face. Fifth day, fingers
clasp firmly; toes do not. Sixth day, hands go into eye (244). Seventh day,
pencil held with toes, but no seizing. Ninth day, no clasping by sleeping
child (245). Sucking (257-261). At end of first week, lateral movements of
head (264). Third week, clasping with fingers, not with thumb (245).
Expressive Movements.—Twenty-sixth day, smile of contentment (296).
Twenty-third day, tears flow (307). Crying, with tears, and whimpering,
become signs of mental states (308).

INTELLECT.[B]

Memory first active in the departments of taste and of smell; then in touch,
sight, hearing (5). Comparison of tastes (I, 123). Vowel-sounds in first
month (67). Sounds in first six months (74). Sounds made in crying and
screaming, u-ä (101). Twenty-second day, association of the breast with
nursing (I, 260).

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Under "Senses" and "Will" the numbers in parentheses indicate pages in Vol. I.
[B] Under "Intellect" the numbers in parentheses indicate pages from Vol. II, unless
otherwise stated.

SECOND MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Light.—Bright or highly-colored objects give pleasure (4).

Discrimination of Colors.—Forty-second day, pleasure in sight of colored
tassels (7).
Movements of Eyelids.—Fifth week, irregular movements of lids. Eighth
week, lid covering iris (23). Twenty-fifth day, opening and shutting eyes in
surprise (30). Fifty-seventh and fifty-eighth days, winking. Sixtieth day,
quick opening and shutting in fright (26).
Movements of Eyes.—Thirty-first day, strabismus rare. Forty-sixth to
fiftieth day, very rare. Fifty-fifth day, irregular movements rare, but
appearing in sleep till the sixtieth day (37).
Direction of Look.—Fifth week, toward the Christmas-tree (45). Thirty-
ninth day, toward tassels swinging (46). Seventh week, moving lamp or
bright object followed (45).
Hearing.—Fifth week, child does not sleep if persons walk or speak.
Starting at noises. Sixth week, starting at slight noises even in sleep; quieted
by mother's singing. Seventh week, fright at noise is greater (83).
Sensibility to musical tones, ditto. Eighth week, tones of piano give
pleasure (84).
Touch.—Thirty-eighth day, movements caused by touch of water (107).
Forty-first day, reflex movement of arms caused by a general slight
agitation (105, 106). Fiftieth and fifty-fifth days, closing of eyelid at touch
of eyelash (103). Seventh week, upper lip sensitive (100).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Pleasure in musical sounds (141); in
sight of human face (142). Reflexive laughing (145). Sixth week,
fretfulness and hunger (155). Eighth week, fatigue after hearing piano-
playing (160). Sleep of three, sometimes of five or six hours (162).

WILL.

Impulsive Movements.—Of eyes before waking, also twistings and raisings
of trunk (206). Seventh week, number of respirations twenty-eight to the
minute (217).

Reflex Movements.—Of right arm at touch of left temple (220). Forty-third
day, sneezing caused by witch-meal (215). Fifth week, vomiting (219).
Eighth week, laughing caused by tickling (225).
Instinctive Movements.—Seventh week, clasping not yet with thumb.
Eighth week, the four fingers of the child embrace the father's finger (245).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Forty-third day, first consonant; child says am-ma; also vowel-
sound ao. Forty-fourth day, syllables ta-hu; forty-sixth day, gö, örö; fifty-
first day, ara; eighth and ninth weeks, örrö, arra, frequent (102).

THIRD MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Movements of the Eyelids.—Eyelid not completely raised when
child looked up (23). Irregular movements of eyes appear (though rare) up
to tenth week; at three months are no more observed (37).
Direction of Look.—Sixty-first day, child looked at his mother and gave a
cry of joy; the father's face made the child gay. Sixty-second day, look
directed at a swinging lamp (46).
Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Ninth week, accommodation apparent
(54).
Hearing.—Ninth week, sound of watch arouses attention; other noises (84).
Eleventh week, head moved in direction of sound (85). Eighty-first day
ditto. (47). Twelfth week, sudden turning of head toward sounding body
(85).

Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Pleasure.—Smile at sight of the
mother's face (145).
Unpleasant Feeling.—From some internal cause (151).
Fatigue.—Sucking tiresome (159). Sleep of four or five hours without
waking (162).
Hunger.—Tenth week, child hungry three times or more in a night (155).

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Respirations, thirteenth week, twenty-seven to the
minute (217). Hiccough frequent; stopped by use of sweetened water (219).
Instinctive Movements.—Eleventh week, pencil held, but mechanically;
thumb not used in clasping (245). Twelfth week, eighty-fourth day, contra-
position of thumb reflexive (245, 246). Thirteenth week, thumb follows
fingers more readily (246). Eleventh week, head balanced occasionally.
Twelfth week, some gain in holding head. Thirteenth week, head tolerably
well balanced (264). Seizing merely apparent (246). No voluntary
movement (266).

INTELLECT.

Eighty-first day, seeking direction of sound (I, 47).
Speech.—Consonant m frequent (67). Sixty-fourth day, ma (102). Sixty-
fifth day, nei nei nei and once a-omb. Sixty-sixth day, la, grei, aho, ma.
Sixty-ninth day, mömm and ngö. Seventy-first day, ra-a-ao. Seventy-sixth
day, nä and nāi-n. Seventy-eighth day, habu. Twelfth week, a-i and uāo, ä-
o-a, ä-a-a and o-ä-ö (103).
Feeling of Self.—Eleventh week, child does not see himself in mirror (197).

FOURTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Movements of Eyelids.—Ninety-eighth day, brow wrinkled when
look is upward (24). Fifty-seventh day, winking (26). Fifteenth and
sixteenth weeks, ditto (27). Seventeenth week, objects seized are moved
toward eyes; grasping at objects too distant (55).
Movements of Eyes.—No more non-coördinated (37).
Direction of Look.—Fourteenth week, following person moving. One
hundred and first day, following pendulum. Sixteenth week, gazing at sides
and ceiling of carriage and at objects (48).
Hearing.—Sixteenth week, head turned toward sound with certainty of
reflex (85).
Feeling.—Seventeenth week, eyes are closed when a drop of water touches
lashes (103). Fourteenth week, sleeping child throws up arms at sudden
touch (106).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Pleasure in grasping at objects (142).
Fifteenth week, intervals between meals three or four hours (155). Sleep
lasts five or six hours (162). Twenty-second week, astonishment at seeing
father after separation (173). Fourteenth week, smile of satiety. Seventeenth
week, joy in seeing image in mirror (297).

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Fourteenth week, right hand to right eye (220).
Instinctive Movements.—Fourteenth week, hands hold objects longer and
with contra-position of thumb. Fifteenth and sixteenth weeks, no intentional
seizing. One hundred and fourteenth day, ditto (246). Seventeenth week,
efforts to take hold of ball; ball moved to mouth and eyes. One hundred and
eighteenth day, frequent attempts at seizing; following day, grasping gives
pleasure (247). Fourteenth week, head seldom falls forward. Sixteenth

week, head held up permanently (264), this the first distinct manifestation
of will (265). Fourteenth week, child sits, his back supported (267).
Seventeenth week, biting (261).
Imitative Movements.—Fifteenth week, beginnings of imitation; trying to
purse the lips (283). Seventeenth week, protruding tip of tongue (284).
Expressive Movements.—Sixteenth week, turnings of head and nodding, not
significant; head turned away in refusal (314).
Deliberate Movements.—Fourteenth week, attentive looking at person
moving; one hundred and first day, at pendulum swinging (48). Fifteenth
week, imitation, pursing lips (283). Sixteenth and seventeenth weeks,
voluntary gazing at image in mirror (343).

INTELLECT.

Intellect participates in voluntary movements (I, 338).
Speech.—Fourteenth week, ntö, ha, lö, na. Fifteenth week, nan-nana, nā-
nā, nanna, in refusal (103). Sixteenth week, in screaming, ä-ŭ ä-ŭ ä, ā-ŭ ā-
ŭ, ŭ-ä ŭ-ä, ū-ū-ā-ö, amme-a; in discomfort, ūă-ūă-ūă-ūă (104).
Feeling of Self.—Seventeenth week, child gazes at his own hand (193). One
hundred and thirteenth day, for the first time regards his image with
attention (197). One hundred and sixteenth day, laughs at his image (198).

FIFTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Direction of Look.—Looking inquiringly (48).
Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Reaching too short (55).

Hearing.—Nineteenth week, pleasure in sound of crumpling of paper by
himself. Twenty-first week, beating of gong enchains attention (85).
Disturbed by noise (86).
Touch.—Auditory canal sensitive (106).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Pleasure in crumpling paper, tearing
newspapers and rolling them into balls, pulling at glove or hair, ringing of a
bell (142, 143). Eighteenth week, discomfort shown by depressing angles of
mouth (149). Eighteenth week, nights of ten to eleven hours without taking
food (155). Eighteenth week, desire shown by stretching out arms (247).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Eighteenth week, objects seized are held firmly
and carried to the mouth (247). Nineteenth week, child takes bit of meat and
carries to mouth. One hundred and twenty-third day, lips protruded in
connection with seizing (248).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Consonant k, gö, kö, ăggĕggĕkö. First five months, screaming
sounds u, ä, ö, a, with ü and o; m almost the only consonant (104).
Feeling of Self.—Discovery by child that he can cause sensations of sound
(192). Looking at his own fingers very attentively (194).

SIXTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Movements of Eyelids.—Twenty-fifth-week, winking caused by
puff of wind in face (27).

Interpretation of what is seen.—Child laughs when nodded to by father;
observes father's image in mirror, etc. (62).
Taste.—Medicine taken if sweetened (124). One hundred and fifty-sixth
day, child refuses breast, having had sweeter milk. End of twenty-third
week, milk of new nurse taken, also cow's milk, meat-broth (125).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Pleasure in grasping increases (142).
Arms moved up and down when child is nodded to (144). Twenty-third
week, depression of angles of mouth and cry of distress caused by harsh
address (149). Hunger apparent in persistent gaze at bottle, crying, and
opening of mouth (154). Sleep of six to eight hours (162). Astonishment at
seeing father after separation, and at sight of stranger (173).

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Sneezing caused, on one hundred and seventieth day,
by blowing on the child (215).
Instinctive Movements.—Twenty-second week, child raised himself to
sitting posture (267). Twenty-third week, ditto; pleased at being placed
upright (275).
Expressive Movements.—Laugh accompanied by raisings and droppings of
arms when pleasure is great (299). Arm-movements that seemed like
defensive movements (314). "Crowing" a sign of pleasure (II, 104).

INTELLECT.

Use of means to cause flow of milk (12).
Speech.—Twenty-second week, ögö, ma-ö-ĕ, hă, ā, ho-ich. "Crowing" and
aspirate ha, and brrr-há, signs of pleasure (104). So aja, örrgö, ā-ā-i-ŏ-ā,
eu and oeu (French) and ä and ö (German), also ijä; i and u rare (105).
Feeling of Self.—Twenty-third week, discrimination between touch of self
and of foreign object (194; I, 109). Twenty-fourth week, child gazes at
glove and at his fingers alternately (194). Twenty fourth week, sees father's

image in mirror and turns to look at father. Twenty-fifth week, stretches
hand toward his own image. Twenty-sixth week, sees image of father and
compares it with original (198).

SEVENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Movements of Eyelids.—End of seventh month, opening and
shutting of fan causes opening and shutting of eyes (30).
Direction of Look.—Twenty-ninth week, looking at flying sparrow (48).
Thirtieth week, child does not look after objects let fall (49).
Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Accommodation is perfect (55).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Staring at strange face (62).
Hearing.—Gaze at person singing; joy in military music (86).
Feeling.—Child became pale in bath (115).
Taste.—New tastes cause play of countenance (124). One hundred and
eighty-fifth day, cow's milk boiled, with egg, is liked; leguminous food not
(125).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Pleasure in his image in mirror (142).
Child laughs when others laugh to him (145). Twenty-ninth week, crying
with hunger; spreading out tongue (153). Satiety shown by thrusting mouth-
piece out (157).

WILL.

Impulsive Movements.—Nose becomes mobile. Babes strike about them
vigorously (207).

Reflex Movements.—Sighing appears (216).
Instinctive Movements.—Thirtieth week, seizing more perfect (249). Child
places himself upright on lap, twenty-eighth week (275).
Imitative Movements.—Imitation of movements of head; of pursing lips
(283).
Expressive Movements.—Averting head as sign of refusal; thrusting nipple
out of mouth (313, 314). Astonishment shown by open mouth and eyes
(55).

INTELLECT.

Child did not recognize nurse after absence of four weeks (7); but children
distinguish faces before thirtieth week (6).
Speech.—When hungry, child screams mä, ä, ŭä, ŭäĕ; when contented, says
örrö; lä, ŭ-ā-ŭ-i-i; t seldom, k only in yawning, p very rarely (106).

EIGHTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Movements of Eyelids.—Brow not wrinkled invariably in looking
upward (24). Play of lid on hearing new noises; no lifting of eyebrows (30,
31). Thirty-fourth week, eyes opened wide with longing (31).
Direction of Look.—Thirty-first week, gaze turned in direction of falling
object. Thirty-third week, objects moved slowly downward are followed
with close gaze. Thirty-fourth week, objects let fall by him are seldom
looked after (49).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Interest in bottles (62).

Hearing.—Quick closing of lids at new impressions of sound (86).
Taste.—Pleasure in the "prepared food" (125).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Discomfort accompanied by square
form of the mouth (149). Craving for food shown by cooing sound (155).
Strongest feeling connected with appeasing of hunger (157). Restless nights
(162). Astonishment at new sounds and sights; with fright (86). Thirty-first
week, at clapping of fan. Thirty-fourth week, at imitation of voices of
animals (173).

WILL.

Impulsive Movements.—Accompanying movement of hand (210). Thirty-
fourth week, stretchings of arms and legs accompanying utterance (II, 108).
Instinctive Movements.—Thirty-second week, seizing with both hands more
perfect; attention more active (248). In same week, legs stretched up
vertically, feet observed attentively, toes carried to mouth with the hands
(249). Pulling objects to him; grasping at bottle (250). Thirty-fourth week,
carrying things to mouth (251).
Expressive Movements.—Laugh begins to be persistently loud (299).
Thirty-second week, child no longer sucks at lips when he is kissed, but
licks them (305). Eyelid half closed in disinclination (315). Interest in
objects shown by stretching out hands (321).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Variety of sounds made in the first eight months at random (76).
Concept of bottle before language (79). Sounds in screaming different
(106). Once the sound hā-upp; frequently a-e͡ i, a-a͡ u, ă-ha͡ u-ă, hörrö. Also
ntĕ-ö, mi-ja mija; once oŭāĕi (107).
Feeling of Self.—Thirty-second week, child looks at his legs and feet as if
they were foreign to him (194).

NINTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Movements of Eyes.—Eyes converged easily (38).
Direction of Look.—Thirty-sixth week, objects that fall are not regularly
looked after, but slowly moving objects, e. g., tobacco-smoke, are followed
(49).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Boxes are gazed at (62). More interest
shown in things in general (63).
Hearing.—Winking and starting at slamming noise (86).
Taste.—Yolk of egg with cane-sugar taken with expression of surprise.
Water and bread liked (126).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Striking hands together and laughing
for joy (145). Eyes shut when something disagreeable is to be endured;
head turned away also (148). Cooing, as in eighth month (155). Fear of dog
(167, 168).

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Number of respirations (in fever) forty and forty-two
in a minute (217).
Instinctive Movements.—Teeth-grinding (262). Turning over when laid face
downward (266). Thirty-fifth week, child places himself on arm and hand
of nurse, and looks over her shoulder (275). Thirty-ninth week, likes to sit
with support (267). Thirty-ninth week, stands on feet a moment without
support (269).

Expressive Movements.—Loud laughing at new, pleasing objects (299).
Turns head to light when asked where it is (321).
Deliberate Movements.—Things brought to mouth are put quickly on
tongue (329).

INTELLECT.

Question understood before child can speak (I, 321).
Speech.—Voice more modulated: screaming varies with different causes
(107). Delight shown by crowing sounds: mä-mä, ämmä, mä, are
expressions of pleasure; ā-au-ā-ā, ā-ŏ, a-u-au, na-na; apa, ga-au-ă, acha
(108).
Feeling of Self.—Feet are felt of, and toes are carried to mouth (190).
Thirty-fifth week, foot grasped and carried to mouth. Thirty-sixth week,
other objects preferred to hands and feet. Thirty-ninth week, in the bath his
own skin is looked at and felt of, also his legs (194). Thirty-fifth week, his
image in mirror is grasped at gayly (198).

TENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Movements of Eyelids.—Brow invariably wrinkled at looking
upward (24).
Movements of Eyes.—Convergence of lines of vision disturbed (38).
Direction of Look.—Forty-third week, objects thrown down are looked at
(49).

Interpretation of what is seen.—Visual impressions connected with food
best interpreted (63).
Hearing.—Head turned at noise (87).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Joy at lighting of lamp (145).

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Inhibition of reflex (229).
Instinctive Movements.—Forty-third week, carrying objects to mouth (252).
Taking a hair from one hand into the other (253). Finger bitten (261). Bread
crunched and swallowed (262). Turning over when laid on face (266).
Fortieth and forty-first weeks, trying to sit without support (267). Forty-
second week, sitting up without support in bath and carriage (267, 268).
Forty-first week, first attempts at walking (275). Forty-second week,
moving feet forward and sidewise; inclination to walk. Forty-third week,
foot lifted high; moving forward (276).
Imitative Movements.—Beckoning imitated (285).
Expressive Movements.—Laughing becomes more conscious and intelligent
(299). Crying in sleep (308). Striking hands together in sleep (319). Object
pointed at is carried to mouth and chewed (322). Body straightened in anger
(324). This not intentional (326).

INTELLECT.

Forty-third week, knowledge of weight of bodies (I, 50). A child missed his
parents when they were absent, also a single nine-pin of a set (7, 8).
Speech.—Child can not repeat a syllable heard (77). In monologue,
syllables are more distinct, loud, and varied when child is left to himself
than when other persons entertain him: ndäĕ bāë-bāë, ba ell, arrö. Frequent
are mä, pappa, tatta, appapa, babba, tätä, pa, rrrr, rrra. Hints at imitation
(108).

Feeling of Self.—Forty-first week, striking his own body and foreign
objects (191). Forty-first to forty-fourth week, image in mirror laughed at
and grasped at (198).

ELEVENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Direction of Look.—Forty-seventh week, child throws down
objects and looks after them (49).
Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Forty-fourth week, new objects no
longer carried to eyes, but gazed at and felt. Forty-seventh week,
accommodation perfect (55).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Trying to fixate objects (63).
Hearing.—Screaming is quieted by a "Sh!" or by singing. Three hundred
and nineteenth day, difference in sound of spoon on plate when plate was
touched by hand (87).
Taste.—Meat-broth with egg taken; scalded skimmed milk rejected; dry
biscuit liked (126).
Organic Sensations And Emotions.—Forty-fourth week, astonishment at
strange face (173).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Forty-fifth week, grasping at flame of lamp; forty-
seventh, at objects behind a pane of glass; gain in moving muscles of arm;
shreds of paper handled (252). Biting father's hand (261). Smacking lips
(262). Sitting becomes habit for life (268). Standing without support;

stamping; but standing only for a moment (269). End of forty-seventh
week, feet well placed, but lifted too high and put down too hard (276).
Expressive Movements.—Grasping at his image with laugh; jubilant noise at
being allowed to walk (299).
Deliberate Movements.—Striking spoon against object and exchanging
objects (326, 327). Child takes biscuit, carries it to mouth, bites off a bit,
chews and swallows it; but can not drink from glass (329).

INTELLECT.

Syllables correctly repeated; intentional sound-imitation on the three
hundred and twenty-ninth day. Forty-fifth week, response made for
diversion: whispering begins (109). Three kinds of r-sounds: new syllables,
ta-he͡ e, dann-tee, a͡ a-ne͡ e, ngä, tai, bä, dall, at-tall, kamm, akkee, praï-jer,
tra, ā-he͡ e. Some earlier sounds frequent; consonants b, p, t, d, m, n, r; l, g,
k: vowel a most used, u and o rare, i very rare (110). Accentuation not
frequent (111). Association of idea with utterance in one case (111, 122).
Forty-fifth week, to word "papa," response rrra (113).
Feeling of Self.—Forty-fifth to fifty-fifth week, discovery of his power to
cause changes (192).

TWELFTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Fifty-first week, pleasure in
seeing men sawing wood at distance of more than one hundred feet (55).
Hearing.—Screaming quieted by "Sh!" (87). Three hundred and sixty-third
day, hears noise in next room and looks in direction of sound (88).

Taste.—Fastidious about food (126).
Organic Sensations And Emotions.—Grunting as indication of pleasure
(144). Fifty-second week, astonishment at new sound (173).

WILL.

Impulsive Movements.—Accompanying movement of hand in drinking
(209).
Instinctive Movements.—Child seized father's hand, carried it to mouth and
bit it (261). Forty-eighth week, standing without support a moment;
stamping; pushing a chair (276). Forty-ninth week, child can not raise
himself without help or stand more than an instant. Fiftieth week, can not
place himself on his feet, or walk without help (277).
Imitative Movements.—Trying to strike with spoon on tumbler; puffing
repeated in sleep (287).
Expressive Movements.—End of year, imitative laughing; crowing (299).
Laughing in sleep (300). Opening of mouth in kissing (305). Arms stretched
out in desire (322).
Deliberate Movements.—Biscuit put into mouth with few failures; drinking
from glass, breathing into the water (329).

INTELLECT.

Ideas gained before language (78). Logical activity applied to perceptions
of sound (I, 88). Abstraction, whiteness of milk (18).
Speech.—Imitation more successful, but seldom correct. Articulate sounds
made spontaneously: haja, jajajajaja, aja, njaja, naïn-hopp, ha-a, pa-a,
dēwär, han-na, mömma, allda, alldaï, apa-u-a, gägä, ka, ladn; atta is
varied, no more dada; w for the first time. Ability to discriminate between
words (112). Fifty-second week, child of himself obeys command, "Give
the hand!" Quieting effect of sounds "sh, ss, st, pst" (113).

Feeling of Self.—Striking hard substances against teeth; gnashing teeth
(189). Tearing of paper continued (192).

THIRTEENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Hearing.—Child strikes on keys of piano; pleased with singing of canary-
bird (89).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Laughing almost invariably follows
the laugh of others (145). Sleep, fourteen hours daily (162).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Standing some moments without support (270).
Fifty-third week, creeping. Fifty-fourth week, walking, with support;
movements in creeping asymmetrical (277).
Expressive Movements.—No idea of kissing (305). Shaking head in denial
(315). Begging sound along with extending of hands in desire (323).

INTELLECT.

Trying door after shutting it (15, 16). Hears the vowel-sounds in word (68).
Speech.—Desire expressed by ä-na, ä-nananana (112). Awkwardness
continues; attention more lively. Tries to repeat words said for him. Three
hundred and sixty-ninth day, papa repeated correctly (113, 114). Syllables
most frequent, nja, njan, dada, atta, mama, papaï, attaï, na-na-na, hatta,
meenĕ-meenĕ-meenĕ, mömm, mömma, ao-u: na-na denotes desire, mama,
mother. Fifty-fourth week, joy expressed by crowing, some very high tones;
first distinct s, three hundred and sixty-eighth day (114). Understanding of

words spoken (115). Confusion of associations; first conscious act of
obedience (116).
Feeling of Self.—Rapping head with hand (191). Finding himself a cause;
shaking keys, etc. (192). Fifty-fifth week, strikes himself and observes his
hands; compares fingers of others with his own (195).

FOURTEENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Fifty-eighth week, grasping at
lamp above him (55).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Fear of falling (169). Fifty-eighth
week, astonishment at lantern (173).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Child could be allowed to bite paper to pieces; he
took the pieces out of his mouth (253). Fifty-seventh week, he hitches along
on hands and knees; can not walk without support. Sixtieth week, raises
himself by chair (277).
Imitative Movements.—For imitating swinging of arms an interval of time
was required (287). Coughing imitated (288). Nodding not imitated (315).
Expressive Movements.—Confounding of movements (322). Affection
shown by laying hand on face and shoulders of others (324).
Deliberate Movements.—Child takes off and puts on the cover of a can
seventy-nine times (328).

INTELLECT.

Wrong understanding of what is heard (89).
Speech.—No doubt that atta means "going"; brrr, practiced and perfected;
dakkn, daggn, taggn, attagn, attatn; no special success in repeating vowels
and syllables (117). Child tries and laughs at his failures, if others laugh;
parrot-like repetition of some syllables (118). Gain in understanding of
words heard; association of definite object with name (119). More
movements executed on hearing words (120). Confounding of movements
occurs, but grows rare; begging attitude seen to be useful (121).
Feeling of Self.—Four hundred and ninth day, child bit himself on the arm
(189). Pulling out and pushing in a drawer, turning leaves of book, etc.
(192). Fifty-seventh week, child looks at his image in hand-mirror, puts
hand behind glass, etc. (198). Fifty-eighth week, his photograph treated in
like manner; he turns away from his image in mirror; sixtieth week,
recognizes his mother's image in mirror as image (199).

FIFTEENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Direction of Look.—Sixty-third to sixty-fifth week, objects thrown
down and looked after (50).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Grasps at candle, puts hand into flame, but
once only (63).
Hearing.—Laughing at new noises, as gurgling or thunder (89).
Smell.—Coffee and cologne make no impression till end of month (134).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Sixty-second week, child stands a few seconds
when support is withdrawn. Sixty-third week, walks, holding on to a
support (277). Sixty-fourth week, can walk without support, if he thinks he
is supported; sixty-fifth week, walks holding by one finger of another's
hand; raises himself to knees, stands up if he can hold to something (278).
Imitative Movements.—Coughing. Learns to blow out candle (288).
Opening and shutting of hand (289).
Expressive Movements.—Laughing at new sounds (299). The words "Give
a kiss" produce a drawing near of head and protruding of lips (306).
Wrinkling of brow in attempts at imitation (310). Deprecating movement of
arm (314). Sixty-fourth week, nodding sometimes accompanies the word
"no"; four hundred and forty-fifth day, an accompanying movement (316).
First shrugging of shoulders (317). Begging gesture made by child when he
wants something (318). Same made in asking for amusement (319). Wish
expressed by handing a ring, looking at glasses to be struck, and saying
hay-ŭh (323).

INTELLECT.

Hunting for scraps of paper, etc. (17). After burning his finger in flame of
candle, the child never put it near the flame again, but would, in fun, put it
in the direction of the candle. He allowed mouth and chin to be wiped
without crying (20).
Speech.—New sound wa; astonishment expressed by hā-ā-ĕā-ĕ, joy by
crowing in high and prolonged tones, strong desire by häö, hä-ĕ, pain,
impatience, by screaming in vowels passing over into one another (121).
The atta still used when a light is dimmed (122). Advance in repeating
syllables. Child is vexed when he can not repeat a word. One new word,
heiss (hot) (123). The s is distinct; th (Eng.) appears; w; smacking in sixty-
fifth week; tongue the favorite plaything (124). Understands words "moon,"
"clock," "eye," "nose," "cough," "blow," "kick," "light"; affirmative nod at
"ja" in sixty-fourth week; negative shaking at "no"; holding out hand at
words "Give the hand" or "hand"; more time required when child is not well
(125).

Feeling of Self.—Child bit his finger so that he cried out with pain (191).
Sixty-second week, playing with his fingers as foreign objects; pressing one
hand down with the other (195). Sixty-first week, trying to feel of his own
image in the mirror (199).

SIXTEENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Sixty-eighth week, reaching
too short, too far to left or right, too high or too low (56).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Grasping at jets of water (63).
Hearing.—Child holds watch to his ear and listens to the ticking (89).
Smell.—Smell and taste not separated; a flower is taken into mouth (135).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Fear of high tones (169).

WILL.

Impulsive Movements.—Sleeping child raised hand to eye (202).
Accompanying movement of fingers in drinking (210).
Reflex Movements.—Respirations, in sleep, twenty-two to twenty-five a
minute (217).
Instinctive Movements.—Sixty-sixth week, four hundred and fifty-seventh
day, child runs alone (278). Next day, stops and stamps. Four hundred and
sixty-first day, can walk backward, if led, and can turn round alone. At the
end of the week can look at objects while walking. Sixty-seventh week, a
fall occurs rarely. Sixty-eighth week, walking becoming mechanical (279).

Imitative Movements.—A ring put on his head in imitation (289). Waiting
attitude (318).
Expressive Movements.—Lips protruded almost like a snout (302). Shaking
head meant "No" and "I do not know" (316). Child shrugs shoulders when
unable to answer (317). Waiting attitude becomes a sign (318).
Deliberate Movements.—Opening and shutting cupboards, bringing objects,
etc. Holding ear-ring to ear (327).

INTELLECT.

Child holds an ear-ring to his ear with understanding (I, 327). A begging
movement at seeing box from which cake had come (11). Small
understanding shown in grasping at ring (13).
Speech.—Progress in repeating words spoken for him and in understanding
words heard. Desire expressed by hä! hä-ö! hä-ĕ! hĕ-ĕ! More seldom hi,
gö-gö, gö, f-pa, a͡ u; more frequently, ta, dokkn, tá-ha, a-bwa-bwa, bŭā-bŭā;
once dagon. Child "reads" the newspaper (126). Pain expressed by
screaming; joy by crowing with vowel i; a repeated on command; mö and
ma; imitation tried (127). Touches eye, ear, etc., when these are named—not
with certainty (128). Understands "bring," "give," etc. (129).
Feeling of Self.—Putting thumbs against the head and pushing,
experimenting (191). Sixty-sixth week, child strikes at his image in mirror.
Sixty-seventh week, makes grimaces before mirror; turns round to see his
father, whose image appeared in mirror (199). Sixty-ninth week, signs of
vanity (200).

SEVENTEENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Interpretation of what is seen.—Child grasps at tobacco-smoke
(64).
Hearing.—Holding watch to ear (89).
Taste.—Surprise at new tastes (119).
Smell.—Inability to separate smell and taste (135).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Prolonged sleep; ten hours at a time
(162).

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Right hand moved when right nostril is touched (221).
Instinctive Movements.—Clasping of finger in sleep (243). Seventieth
week, child raises himself from floor alone; seventy-first week, steps over
threshold (279).
Expressive Movements.—Shaking head means "I do not wish" (316).
Throwing himself on floor and screaming with rage (323).

INTELLECT.

Child brings traveling-bag to stand upon in order to reach (12). Play of
"hide and seek" (17).
Speech.—Screaming, whimpering, etc. (101). Increase of discrimination:
bibi, nä-nä-nä, t-tó, höt-tó; voluntary imitation (129). Associations of words
heard with objects and movements (130).
Feeling of Self.—Making grimaces before mirror (200).

EIGHTEENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Direction of Look.—Seventy-eighth week, throwing away of
playthings is rare (50).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Anxiety on seeing man dressed in black
(64).
Smell.—Objects no longer carried to mouth (135).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Laughing at thunder (170).

WILL.

Impulsive Movements.—Holding little finger apart from others (209).
Instinctive Movements.—Walks over threshold by holding on (275).
Seventy-seventh week, runs around table; seventy-eighth, walks over
threshold without holding on (280).
Imitative Movements.—Blowing horn (290).
Expressive Movements.—Trying to hit with foot, striking, etc. (315).
Waiting attitude (318).
Deliberate Movements.—Full spoon carried to mouth with skill (329).

INTELLECT.

Memory of towel (8). Watering flowers with empty pot (16). Plays (17).
Giving leaves to stag, etc. (18). Stick of wood put in stove (20).
Speech.—Understanding of words increases (130). Repeating of syllables is
rare; atta becomes tto, t-tu, ftu; feeling recognized by tone of voice (131).
Feeling of Self.—Recognition of himself as cause of changes (192).

NINETEENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Hearing.—Hearing watch on his head (89).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Fear of strangers ceases (150). Laugh
at thunder and lightning (170).

WILL.

Imitative Movements.—Combing and brushing hair, washing hands, etc.
(290).
Expressive Movements.—Fastidious about kissing (306). Pride in baby-
carriage (324).
Deliberative Movements.—Spoon taken in left hand (329).

INTELLECT.

Father recognized after absence (8). Bringing cloth for wrap and begging
for door to be opened (12). Grunting in order to be taken away (13).
Induction, watch and clock (18). Crying seen to be useless (20).
Speech.—Imitation of whistle (91). Spontaneous sound imitations more
frequent (131). Gazing after objects thrown and whispering, reading
newspaper (132). Response to pa correctly given (133). Objects correctly
pointed out; memory of tricks (134).
Feeling of Self.—Attempt to give his foot (190).

TWENTIETH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—First color-tests. Eighty-fifth week, no
discrimination (7). Eighty-sixth and eighty-seventh weeks, no results (8).
Movements of the Eyes.—Readiness of convergence, pupils very wide open
(38).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Prolonged sleep habitual, etc. (163).

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Respirations twenty-two and more (217).
Instinctive Movements.—Eighty-fifth week, thresholds stepped over
quickly; inclines forward in running (280).
Imitative Movements.—Use of comb and brush, putting on collar (290).
Scraping feet, putting pencil to mouth, marking on paper (291).
Expressive Movements.—Proximity essential in kissing; bends head when
"kiss" is said (306). Antipathy expressed by turning head at approach of
women in black (315).
Deliberate Movements.—Carries spoon with food to mouth cleverly (329).

INTELLECT.

As in nineteenth month, grunting (12,13).
Speech.—Rodi, otto, rojo (93). Understanding of the word "other" (128,
129). Five hundred and eighty-fourth day, important advance in repeating
words said (135). Imagination; can not repeat three syllables; laughs when
others laugh (136). Single words more promptly understood (137). One new
concept, expressed by dā and ndā, or tā and ntā. Eighty-seventh week,
attah said on railway-train; papa and bät or bit (for "bitte") rightly used;
much outcry (138). Crowing tones not so high; loud readings continued
(139).

TWENTY-FIRST MONTH.

SENSES.

Hearing.—Dancing not rhythmical (89, 90).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Fear of the sea (170).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Eighty-ninth week, running is awkward, but
falling rare (280).
Imitative Movements.—Imitation without understanding (290, 291).
Expressive Movements.—Ninetieth week, pointing as expression of wish
(321).

INTELLECT.

Recognition of father (8). Association of biscuit with coat and wardrobe
(11).
Speech.—Imitations more frequent. Eighty-ninth week, babbling different,
more consonants; ptö-ptö, pt-pt, and verlapp, also dla-dla; willfulness
shown in articulate sounds and shaking head (139). Unlike syllables not
repeated, dang-gee and dank-kee; tendency to doubling syllables, tete, bibi;
babbling yields great pleasure; bibi for "bitte" rightly used. New word mimi,
when hungry or thirsty (140). Understands use and signification of sound,
neinein; and answers of his own accord jaja to question in ninety-first
week. Strength of memory for sounds; points correctly to nose, mouth, etc.
(141). Astonishing progress in understanding what is said. Few expressions

of his own with recognizable meaning, jāĕ excepted. Att, att, att,
unintelligible. Tried to imitate sound of steam of locomotive (142).
Feeling of Self.—Placing shells and buttons in rows (193). Puts lace about
him; vanity; laughs and points at his own image in mirror (200). The same
on six hundred and twentieth day (201).

TWENTY-SECOND MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—New impressions enchain attention; the mysterious more attractive
(64).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Progress in understanding; orders executed with surprising
accuracy (142). Strength of word-memory; facility of articulation;
spontaneous utterance of pss, ps, ptsch, pth; pa-ptl-dä-pt; greeting with hāā-
ö, ada and ana. Singing, rollo, mama, mämä, etc. More certainty in
reproducing sounds: "pst, anna, otto, lina," etc. Three-syllabled words
correctly repeated, a-ma-ma, a-pa-pa (143). Words too hard are given back
with tapĕta, pĕta, pta, ptö-ptö or rateratetat. Ja ja and nein nein, with da
and bibi and mimi, used properly in request. Cry of pain a strong contrast
with the crowing for joy (144).

TWENTY-THIRD MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—Ninety-sixth week, does not
appreciate distance (56).

WILL.

Imitative Movements.—Imitative impulse seems like ambition; ceremonious
movements imitated (291).
Expressive Movements.—Kiss given as a mark of favor (306). Striking
hands together in applause and desire for repetition (319). Tears of sorrow
instead of anger; tries to move chair to table, etc. (324).

INTELLECT.

Joy at seeing playthings after absence of eleven and a half weeks (8).
Concept of "cup" not sharply defined (16). Use of adjective for the first
spoken judgment (96).
Speech.—Heiss (hot) means "The drink is too hot," and "the stove is hot"
(144). Watja and mimi; mimmi, mömö, māmā, mean food; atta,
disappearance; spontaneous articulation, o͡ i, e͡ u, ana, ida, didl, dadl, dldo-
dlda; in singing-tone, opojö, apojopojum aui, heissa; calls grandparents e-
papa and e-mama; knows who is meant when these are spoken of.
Understands words more easily, as "drink, eat, shut, open" (145). Word-
memory becoming firm; imagination. Great progress in reproducing
syllables and words (146). Child's name, "Axel," is called Aje, Eja. "Bett,
Karre, Kuk," repeated correctly. Echolalia reappears (147). Words are best
pronounced by child when he is not called upon to do it (148).
Feeling of Self.—Child holds biscuit to his toes (190).

TWENTY-FOURTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Interpretation of what is seen.—Moving animals closely observed
(64).
Hearing.—Trying to sing, and beating time (90).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Astonishment more seldom apparent
(174).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Child turns, of himself, dancing in time to music;
beats time (280).
Imitative Movements.—Ceremonious movements imitated, salutation,
uncovering head (291).
Expressive Movements.—Roguish laughing first observed (299).

INTELLECT.

Understanding of actions and of use of utensils more developed than ability
to interpret representations of them (I, 64, 65).
Speech.—Voluntary sound-imitations gain in frequency and accuracy;
genuine echolalia (148). Imperfect imitations (149). Multiplicity of
meanings in the same utterance (150). Distinguishing men from women.
Combination of two words into a sentence, seven hundred and seventh day;
words confounded; also gestures and movements; but not in the expression
of joy and grief (151, 152).

TWENTY-FIFTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—Color-tests, red and green; seven
hundred and fifty-eighth day, eleven times right, six wrong; seven hundred
and fifty-ninth, seven right, five wrong; seven hundred and sixtieth, nine
right, five wrong (8). Does not yet know what blue and green signify.
Moves and handles himself well in twilight (21).
Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—One hundred and eighth week, power of
accommodation good; small photographic likenesses recognized (56).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Progress is extraordinary. Does not pronounce a perfect "u." All
sound-imitations more manifold, etc.; begins saying "so" when any object is
brought to appointed place (152). Has become more teachable, repeats three
words imperfectly. Evidence of progress of memory, understanding and
articulation in answers given. No word invented by himself; calls his nurse
wolá, probably from the often-heard "ja wohl." Correct use of single words
picked up increases surprisingly (153). Misunderstandings rational; words
better understood; reasoning developed (154). Inductive reasoning. Progress
in forming sentences. Sentence of five words. Pronouns signify objects or
qualities (155, 156).

TWENTY-SIXTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—Seven hundred and sixty-third day, 15
right, 1 wrong. Three colors pointed out; disinclination to continue (8).

Seven hundred and sixty-fifth day, green confounded with yellow. One
hundred and tenth week, right 73, wrong 22. Blue added. End of one
hundred and tenth week to one hundred and twelfth week, right 124, wrong
36. Yellow more surely recognized than other colors. Violet added (9).
Colors taken separately. One hundred and twelfth week, right 44, wrong 11.
Tests in both ways; attention not continuous. Gray is added. One hundred
and twelfth and one hundred and thirteenth weeks, right 90, wrong 27 (10,
11). Child does not know what "green" means in one hundred and twelfth
week (21).
Seeing Near and Distant Objects.—One hundred and thirteenth week,
articles of furniture recognized in pictures at distance of three inches or
three feet (56).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—First attempts at climbing (331).

INTELLECT.

Child points out objects in pictures, and repeats names given to them; list of
results (156). Points out of his own accord, with certainty, in the picture-
book. Appropriates many words not taught him, tola for "Kohlen," dals for
"Salz." Others correctly said and used (157). Some of his mutilated words
not recognizable; "sch" sometimes left out, sometimes given as z or ss.
Independent thoughts expressed by words more frequently; "Good-night"
said to the Christmas-tree (158). Verb used (in the infinitive) showing
growth of intellect; learning of tricks decreases (159). No notion of number;
does not understand "Thank you," but thanks himself. More names of
animals, learned from adults; no onomatopœia (160).

TWENTY-SEVENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—Color-tests, from one hundred and
fourteenth to one hundred and sixteenth week, four trials, colors mixed;
result, 59 right, 22 wrong (11). Blue especially confounded with violet, also
with green. Four trials in one hundred and fourteenth and one hundred and
fifteenth weeks; result, 58 right, 32 wrong (12). Two trials in one hundred
and fifteenth week; result, 25 right, 16 wrong (13).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Uncomfortable feeling through pity;
child weeps if human forms cut out of paper are in danger of mutilation
(150, 151).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Pleasure in climbing begins (280).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Activity of thought. Observation and comparison. Gratitude does
not appear (161). Wishes expressed by verbs in the infinitive or by
substantives. Adverbs; indefinite pronouns. Seven hundred and ninety-sixth
day, makes the word Messen (162). Wolà and atta have almost disappeared.
Independent applications of words (163). Monologues less frequent. Begs
apple to give to a puppet. Echolalia prominent. Tones and noises imitated
(164). Laughing when others laugh; fragments of a dialogue repeated.
Feeble memory for answers and numbers. Eight hundred and tenth day,
gave his own name for first time in answer to a question (165). No question
yet asked by the child. The article is not used. Pronunciation slowly
becoming correct (166).

TWENTY-EIGHTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—One hundred and twenty-first week,
greater uncertainty (13).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Fear of pigs (168).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Going on all-fours; jumping, climbing gives
pleasure (280).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Rapid increase of activity in forming ideas, and greater certainty
in use of words. Ambition; observation and combination; beginning of self-
control; use of his own name and of names of parents; independent thinking
(167). Increase in number of words correctly pronounced; attempt to use
prepositions; first intelligent use of the article (168). Questioning active;
first spontaneous question on eight hundred and forty-fifth day. "Where?" is
his only interrogative word. Reproduction of foreign expressions (169).
Imagination lively; paper cups used like real ones. Articulation better, but
still deficient. Many parts of the body named correctly (170). Child makes
remarks for a quarter of an hour at a time concerning objects about him,
sings, screams in sleep (171).

TWENTY-NINTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—One hundred and twenty-fourth week,
right, 58; wrong, 49. Eight hundred and sixty-eighth day, child takes colors

of his own accord and names them; confounding rose, gray, and pale-green,
brown and gray, blue and violet. One hundred and twenty-fourth and one
hundred and twenty-fifth weeks, right, 80; wrong, 34 (14). Red and yellow
generally named rightly; blue and green not. Red and yellow are removed;
child is less interested. One hundred and twenty-fifth and one hundred and
twenty-sixth weeks, right, 80; wrong, 63. Orange confounded with yellow,
blue with violet, green with gray, black with brown. Failure of attempt to
induce child to put like colors together, or to select colors by their names
(15).
Direction of Look.—One hundred and twenty-fourth week, gaze follows
ball thrown (50).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Fear of dogs (168).

INTELLECT.

Personal pronoun used in place of his own name. Inflection of verbs
appears, but the infinitive is generally used for imperative; regular and
irregular verbs begin to be distinguished (171). Desire expressed by
infinitive. Numbering active; numerals confounded. Eight hundred and
seventy-eighth day, nine-pins counted "one, one, one," etc. (172).
Questioning increases; "too much" is confounded with "too little." Yet
memory gains (173). Sounds of animals well remembered. Slow progress in
articulation (174).
Feeling of Self.—Personal pronoun in place of his own name; "me" but not
yet "I" (202).

THIRTIETH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—One hundred and twenty-sixth, one
hundred and twenty-seventh, and one hundred and twenty-eighth weeks,
four trials with single color at a time; 75 right, 34 wrong. Eight hundred and
ninety-eighth day, every color rightly named; some guessing on blue and
green (16).
Interpretation of what is seen.—Persistent desire daily to "write"
locomotives (66).
Hearing.—While eating, by chance puts hand to ear while kettle of boiling
water stood before him; notices diminution in force of sound (88).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—Mounting a staircase without help; ten days later
with hands free (280, 281).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Independent activity of thought. When language fails, he
considers well (174). Deliberation without words; concepts formed.
Intellectual advance shown in first intentional use of language (175). Only
interrogative word is still "Where?" "I" does not appear, but "me" is used.
Sentences independently applied (176). More frequent use of the plural in
nouns; of the article; of the strong inflection; auxiliaries omitted or
misemployed. Twofold way of learning correct pronunciation (177).
Memory for words denoting objects good; right and left confounded (178).

THIRTY-FIRST MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—Nine hundred and thirty-fourth day,
child says he can not tell green and blue. Green mostly called gray; blue,
violet (17).
Feeling.—Sensibility to Temperature.—Child laughs joyously in cold bath
(115).

WILL.

Weakness of will shown by ceasing to eat when told that he has had enough
(344).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Onomatopœia: imitation of locomotive-whistle (91). Two new
questions. Indefinite article more frequent. Individual formations of words,
as comparative of "high"; "key-watch." Confounding of "to-day" and
"yesterday" (178). Forming of sentences imperfect. Reporting of faults.
Calls things "stupid" when he is vexed by them. Changes occupation
frequently. Imitation less frequent. Singing in sleep. "Sch" not yet
pronounced (179).
Feeling of Self.—Causing change in objects, pouring water into and out of
vessels (193). Laughing at image of self in mirror (201).

THIRTY-SECOND MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—One hundred and thirty-eighth and a
few previous weeks, six trials, child taking colors and naming them; right
119, wrong, 38 (16, 17). Green and blue called "nothing at all." Unknown

colors named green; leaves of roses called "nothing," as are whitish colors.
One hundred and thirty-eighth and one hundred and thirty-ninth weeks,
three trials; right, 93, wrong, 39 (17, 18). Green begins to be rightly named,
blue less often (18).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—"I" begins to displace the name of child. Sentence correctly
applied. Clauses formed. Particle separated in compound verbs. Longer
names and sentences distinctly spoken, but the influence of dialect appears
(180). Memory improved, but fastidious; good for what is interesting and
intelligible to child (181).
Feeling of Self.—Fourfold designation of self (202).

THIRTY-THIRD MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—One hundred and thirty-ninth, one
hundred and forty-first, and one hundred and forty-sixth weeks, took colors
of his own accord and named them; result of three trials, 66 right, 19 wrong
(18).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Fear of even smallest dog (168).

INTELLECT.

Understanding that violations of well-known precepts have unpleasant
consequences (21).
Speech.—Strength of memory shown in characteristic remarks Narrative of
feeding fowls (181). Interest in animals and other moving objects; lack of

clearness in concepts of animal and machine; meaning of word "father"
includes also "uncle"; selfhood more sharply manifested. Confounds "too
much" with "too little," etc. (182).
Feeling of Self.—"I" especially used in "I want that," etc. (202).

THIRTY-FOURTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—"Green" rightly applied to leaves and
grass (18). Order in which colors are rightly named up to this time; right,
one thousand and forty-four; wrong, four hundred and forty-two: right, 70.3
per cent; wrong, 29.7. Yellow and red much sooner named rightly than
green and blue (19).

WILL.

Instinctive Movements.—First gymnastic exercises (281).
Expressive Movements.—Kissing an expression of thankfulness (306).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Repeating, for fun, expressions heard. Calls, without occasion,
the name of the nurse; calls others by her name, sometimes correcting
himself. Seldom speaks of himself in third person; gradually uses "Du" in
address; uses "What?" in a new way. One thousand and twenty-eighth day,
"Why?" first used; instinct of causality expressed in language (183).
Questioning repeated to weariness. Articulation perfected, with some
exceptions (184).
Feeling of Self.—Repeats the "I" heard, meaning by it "you" (202).

THIRTY-FIFTH MONTH.

WILL.

Reflex Movements.—Responsive movement in sleeping child (221).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Fondness for singing increases; pleasure in compass and power of
his voice (185).

THIRTY-SIXTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Hearing.—Musical notes C, D, E, could not be rightly named by child, in
spite of teaching (90).

INTELLECT.

"When?" not used until close of the third year (184). Great pleasure in
singing, but imitation here not very successful, though surprisingly so in
regard to speech. Grammatical errors more rare. Long sentences correctly
but slowly formed. Ambition manifested in doing things without help (185).
Invention in language rare. Participles well used (186).

THIRTY-SEVENTH MONTH.

SENSES.

Sight.—Discrimination of Colors.—Colors named correctly except very
dark or pale ones (21).
Organic Sensations and Emotions.—Night's sleep from eleven to twelve
hours; day-naps no longer required (163). Fear (in sleep) of pigs (168).

INTELLECT.

Speech.—Child's manner of speaking approximates more and more rapidly
to that of the family (186).

FORTIETH MONTH.

INTELLECT.

Feeling of Self.—Fortieth month, pleased with his shadow (201).

THE MIND OF THE CHILD.

THIRD PART.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE INTELLECT.

The development of the intellect depends in so great measure upon the
modification of innate endowments through natural environment and
education, even before systematic instruction begins, and the methods of
education are so manifold, that it is at present impossible to make a
complete exposition of a normal intellectual development. Such an
exposition would necessarily comprise in the main two stages:
1. The combination of sensuous impressions into perceptions
(Wahrnehmungen); which consists essentially in this—that the sensation,
impressing itself directly upon our experience, is by the intellect, now
beginning to act, co-ordinated in space and time.
2. The combination of perceptions into ideas; in particular into sense-
intuitions and concepts. A sense-intuition (Anschauung) is a perception
together with its cause, the object of the sensation; a concept (Begriff)
results from the union of the previously separated perceptions, which are
then called separate marks or qualities.
The investigation of each of these stages in the child is in itself a great
labor, which an individual may indeed begin upon, but can not easily carry
through uniformly in all directions.
I have indeed tried to collect recorded facts, but have found only very little
trustworthy material, and accordingly I confine myself essentially to my
own observations on my child. These are not merely perfectly trustworthy,
even to the minutest details (I have left out everything of a doubtful
character), but they are the most circumstantial ever published in regard to
the intellectual development of a child. But I have been acquainted with a
sufficient number of other children to be certain that the child observed by

me did not essentially differ from other healthy and intelligent boys in
regard to the principal points, although the time at which development takes
place, and the rapidity of it, differ a good deal in different individuals. Girls
often appear to learn to speak earlier than boys; but further on they seem to
possess a somewhat inferior capacity of development of the logical
functions, or to accomplish with less ease abstractions of a higher order;
whereas in boys the emotional functions, however lasting their reactions,
are not so delicately graduated as in girls.
Without regard to such differences, of which I am fully aware, the
following chapters treat exclusively of the development of purely
intellectual cerebral activity in both sexes during the first years. I
acknowledge, however, that I have found the investigation of the influence
of the affectional movements, or emotions, upon the development of the
intellect in the child during the first years so difficult, that I do not for the
present enter into details concerning it.
The observations relate, first, to the non-dependence of the child's intellect
upon language; next, to the acquirement of speech; lastly, to the
development of the feeling of self, the "I"-feeling.

CHAPTER XVI.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHILD'S INTELLECT
INDEPENDENTLY
OF LANGUAGE.

A wide-spread prejudice declares, "Without language, no understanding"!
Subtile distinctions between understanding and reason have limited the
statement to the latter term. But even in the restricted form, "Without verbal
language, no reason," it is at least unproved.
Is there any thinking without words? The question takes this shape.
Now, for the thinker, who has long since forgotten the time when he himself
learned to speak, it is difficult, or even impossible, to give a decided
answer. For the thinking person can not admit that he has been thinking
without words; not even when he has caught himself arriving at a logical
result without a continuity in his unexpressed thought. A break occurred in
the train. There was, however, a train of thought. Breaks alone yield no
thought; they arise only after words have been associated with thoughts,
and so they can by no means serve as evidence of a thinking without words,
although the ecstasy of the artist, the profundity of the meta-physician, may
attain the last degree of unconsciousness, and a dash may interrupt the
thought-text.
But the child not yet acquainted with verbal language, who has not been
prematurely artificialized by training and by suppression of his own
attempts to express his states of mind, who learns of himself to think, just as
he learns of himself to see and hear—such a child shows plainly to the
attentive observer that long before knowledge of the word as a means of
understanding among men, and long before the first successful attempt to
express himself in articulate words—nay, long before learning the

pronunciation of even a single word, he combines ideas in a logical manner
—i. e., he thinks. Thinking is, it is true, "internal speech," but there is a
speech without words.
Facts in proof of this have already been given in connection with other
points (Vol. I, pp. 88, 327, 328); others are given further on.
It will not be superfluous, however, to put together several observations
relating to the development of the childish intellect without regard to the
acquirement of speech; and to present them separately, as a sort of
introduction to the investigation of the process of learning to speak.
Memory; a causative combination of the earliest recollections, or memory-
images; purposive, deliberate movements for the lessening of individual
strain—all these come to the child in greater or less measure independently
of verbal language. The, as it were, embryonic logic of the child does not
need words. A brief explanation of the operation of these three factors will
show this. Memory takes the first place in point of time.
Without memory no intellect is possible. The only material at the disposal
of the intellect is received from the senses. It has been provided solely out
of sensations. Now a sensation in itself alone, as a simple fundamental
experience affecting primarily the one who has the sensation, can not be the
object of any intellectual operation whatever. In order to make such activity
possible there must be several sensations: two of different kinds, of unequal
strength; or two of different kinds, of the same strength; or two of the same
kind unequally strong; in any case, two unlike sensations (cf. my treatise
"Elemente der reinen Empfindungslehre," Jena, 1876), if the lowest activity
of the intellect, comparison, is to operate. But because the sensations that
are to be compared can not all exist together, recollection of the earlier ones
is necessary (for the comparison); that is, individual or personal memory.
This name I give to the memory formed by means of individual impressions
(occurrences, experiences) in contrast with the phyletic memory, or instinct,
the memory of the race, which results from the inheritance of the traces of
individual experiences of ancestors; of this I do not here speak.
All sensations leave traces behind in the brain; weak ones leave such as are
easy to be obliterated by others; strong ones, traces more enduring.

At the beginning of life it seems to be the department of taste (sweet) and of
smell (smell of milk) in which memory is first operative (Vol. I, p. 124).
Then comes the sense of touch (in nursing). Next in order the sense of sight
chiefly asserts itself as an early promoter of memory. Hearing does not
come till later.
If the infant, in the period from three to six months of age, is brought into a
room he has not before seen, his expression changes; he is astonished. The
new sensations of light, the different apportionment of light and dark,
arouse his attention; and when he comes back to his former surroundings he
is not astonished. These have lost the stimulus of novelty—i. e., a certain
reminiscence of them has remained with the child, they have impressed
themselves upon him.
Long before the thirtieth week, healthy children distinguish human faces
definitely from one another; first, the faces of the mother and the nurse,
then the face of the father, seen less often; and all three of these from every
strange face. Probably faces are the first thing frequently perceived clearly
by the eye. It has been found surprising that infants so much earlier
recognize human faces and forms, and follow them with the gaze, than they
do other objects. But human forms and faces, being large, moving objects,
awaken interest more than other objects do; and on account of the manner
of their movements, and because they are the source from which the voice
issues, are essentially different from other objects in the field of vision. "In
these movements they are also characterized as a coherent whole, and the
face, as a whitish-reddish patch with the two sparkling eyes, is always a part
of this image that will be easy to recognize, even for one who has seen it
but a few times" (Helmholtz).
Hence the memory for faces is established earlier than that for other visual
impressions, and with this the ability to recognize members of the family. A
little girl, who does not speak at all, looks at pictures with considerable
interest in the seventh month, "and points meantime with her little
forefinger to the heads of the human figures" (Frau von Strümpell).
My child in the second month could already localize the face and voice of
his mother, but the so-called knowing ("Erkennen") is a recognition
(Wiedererkennen) which presupposes a very firm association of the

memory-images. This fundamental function attached to the memory can
have but a slow development, because it demands an accumulation of
memory-images and precision in them.
In the second three months it is so far developed, at least, that strange faces
are at once known as strange, and are distinguished from those of parents
and nurse; for they excite astonishment or fear (crying) while the faces of
the latter do not. But the latter, if absent, are not yet, at this period, missed
by most children. Hence it is worthy of note that a girl in her twelfth month
recognized her nurse after six days' absence, immediately, "with sobs of
joy," as the mother reports (Frau von Strümpell); another recognized her
father, after a separation of four days, even in the tenth month (Lindner).
In the seventh month my child did not recognize his nurse, to whom he had
for months been accustomed, after an absence of four weeks. Another child,
however, at four months noticed at evening the absence of his nurse, who
had been gone only a day, and cried lustily upon the discovery, looking all
about the room, and crying again every time after searching in vain (Wyma,
1881). At ten months the same child used to be troubled by the absence of
his parents, though he bore himself with indifference toward them when he
saw them again. At this period a single nine-pin out of the whole set could
not be taken away without his noticing it, and at the age of a year and a half
this child knew at once whether one of his ten animals was missing or not.
In the nineteenth and twenty-first months my boy recognized his father
immediately from a distance, after a separation of several days, and once
after two weeks' absence; and in his twenty-third month his joy at seeing
again his playthings after an absence of eleven and a half weeks (with his
parents) was very lively, great as was the child's forgetfulness in other
respects at this period. A favorite toy could often be taken from him without
its being noticed or once asked for. But when the child—in his eighteenth
month—after having been accustomed to bring to his mother two towels
which he would afterward carry back to their place, on one occasion had
only one towel given back to him, he came with inquiring look and tone to
get the second.
This observation, which is confirmed by some similar ones, proves that at a
year and a half the memory for visual and motor ideas that belong together
was already well developed without the knowledge of the corresponding

words. But artificial associations of this sort need continual renewing,
otherwise they are soon forgotten; the remembrance of them is speedily lost
even in the years of childhood.
It is noteworthy, in connection with this, that what has been lately acquired,
e. g., verses learned by heart, can be recited more fluently during sleep than
in the waking condition. At the age of three years and five months a girl
recited a stanza of five lines on the occasion of a birthday festival, not
without some stumbling, but one night soon after the birthday she repeated
the whole of the rhymes aloud in her sleep without stumbling at all (Frau
von Strümpell).
It is customary, generally, to assume that the memory of adults does not
extend further back than to the fourth year of life. Satisfactory observations
on this point are not known to exist. But it is certainly of the first
consequence, in regard to the development of the faculty of memory,
whether the later experiences of the child have any characteristic in
common with the earlier experiences. For many of these experiences no
such agreement exists; nothing later on reminds us of the once existing
inability to balance the head, or of the former inability to turn around, to sit,
to stand, to walk, of the inborn difficulty of hearing, inability to
accommodate the eye, and to distinguish our own body from foreign
objects; hence, no man, and no child, remembers these states. But this is not
true of what is acquired later. My child when less than three years old
remembered very well—and would almost make merry over himself at it—
the time when he could not yet talk, but articulated incorrectly and went
imperfectly through the first, often-repeated performances taught by his
nurse, "How tall is the child?" and "Where is the rogue?" If I asked him,
after he had said "Frühstücken" correctly, how he used to say it, he would
consider, and would require merely a suggestion of accessory
circumstances, in order to give the correct answer Fritick and so with many
words difficult to pronounce. The child of three and even of four years can
remember separate experiences of his second year, and a person that will
take the pains to remind him frequently of them will be able easily to carry
the recollections of the second and third years far on into the more
advanced years of childhood. It is merely because no one makes such a
useless experiment that older children lose the memory-images of their
second year. These fade out because they are not combined with new ones.

At what time, however, the first natural association of a particular idea with
a new one that appears weeks or months later, takes place without being
called up by something in the mean time, is very hard to determine. On this
point we must first gather good observations out of the second and third
half-years, like the following:
"In the presence of a boy a year and a half old it was related that another
boy whom he knew, and who was then in the country far away, had fallen
and hurt his knee. No one noticed the child, who was playing as the story
was told. After some weeks the one who had fallen came into the room, and
the little one in a lively manner ran up to the new-comer and cried, 'Fall,
hurt leg!'" (Stiebel, 1865).
Another example is given by G. Lindner (1882): "The mother of a two-
year-old child had made for it out of a postal-card a sled (Schlitten), which
was destroyed after a few hours, and found its way into the waste-basket.
Just four weeks later another postal-card comes, and it is taken from the
carrier by the child and handed to the mother with the words,'Mamma,
Litten!' This was in summer, when there was nothing to remind the child of
the sled. Soon after the same wish was expressed on the receipt of a letter
also."
I have known like cases of attention, of recollection, and of intelligence in
the third year where they were not suspected. The child, unnoticed, hears all
sorts of things said, seizes on this or that expression, and weeks after brings
into connection, fitly or unfitly, the memory-images, drawing immediately
from an insufficient number of particular cases a would-be general
conclusion.
Equally certain with this fact is the other, less known or less noticed, that,
even before the first attempts at speaking, such a generalizing and therefore
concept-forming combination of memory-images regularly takes place.
All children in common have inborn in them the ability to combine all sorts
of sense-impressions connected with food, when these appear again
individually, with one another, or with memory-images of such impressions,
so that adaptive movements suited to the obtaining of fresh food arise as the
result of this association. In the earlier months these are simple and easier to
be seen, and I have given several examples (Vol. I, pp. 250, 260, 329, 333).

Later such movements, through the perfecting of the language of gesture
and the growth of this very power of association, become more and more
complicated: e. g., in his sixteenth month my boy saw a closed box, out of
which he had the day before received a cake; he at once made with his
hands a begging movement, yet he could not speak a word. In the twenty-
first month I took out of the pocket of a coat which was hanging with many
others in the wardrobe a biscuit and gave it to the child. When he had eaten
it, he went directly to the wardrobe and looked in the right coat for a second
biscuit. At this period also the child can not have been thinking in the
unspoken words, "Get biscuit—wardrobe, coat, pocket, look," for he did not
yet know the words.
Even in the sixth month an act of remarkable adaptiveness was once
observed, which can not be called either accidental or entirely voluntary,
and if it was fully purposed it would indicate a well-advanced development
of understanding in regard to food without knowledge of words. When the
child, viz., after considerable experience in nursing at the breast, discovered
that the flow of milk was less abundant, he used to place his hand hard on
the breast as if he wanted to force out the milk by pressure. Of course there
was here no insight into the causal connection, but it is a question whether
the firm laying on of the little hand was not repeated for the reason that the
experience had been once made accidentally, that after doing this the
nursing was less difficult.
On the other hand, an unequivocal complicated act of deliberation occurred
in the seventeenth month. The child could not reach his playthings in the
cupboard, because it was too high for him; he ran about, brought a
traveling-bag, got upon it, and took what he wanted. In this case he could
not possibly think in words, since he did not yet know words.
My child tries further (in the nineteenth and twentieth months) in a twofold
fashion to make known his eager wish to leave the room, not being as yet
able to speak. He takes any cloth he fancies and brings it to me. I put it
about him, he wraps himself in it, and, climbing beseechingly on my knee,
makes longing, pitiful sounds, which do not cease until after I have opened
a door through which he goes into another room. Then he immediately
throws away the cloth and runs about exulting.

The other performance is this: When the child feels the need of relieving his
bowels, he is accustomed to make peculiar grunting sounds, by means of a
strain of the abdomen, shutting the mouth and breathing loud, by jerks,
through the nose. He is then taken away. Now, if he is not suited with the
place where he happens to be, at any time, he begins to make just such
sounds. If he is taken away, no such need appears at all, but he is in high
glee. Here is the expectation, "I shall be taken away if I make that sound."
Whether we are to admit, in addition, an intentional deception in this case,
or whether only a logical process takes place, I can not decide. In the whole
earlier and later behavior of the child there is no ground for the first
assumption, and the fact that he employs this artifice while in his carriage,
immediately after he has been waited on, is directly against it.
To how small an extent, some time previous to this, perceptions were made
use of to simplify his own exertions, i. e., were combined and had motor
effect, appears from an observation in the sixteenth month. Earlier than this,
when I used to say, "Give the ring," I always laid an ivory ring, that was
tied to a thread, before the child, on the table. I now said the same thing—
after an interval of a week—while the same ring was hanging near the chair
by a red thread a foot long, so that the child, as he sat on the chair, could
just reach it, but only with much pains. He made a grasp now, upon getting
the sound-impression "ring," not at the thread, which would have made the
seizure of the ring, hanging freely, very easy for him, but directly at the ring
hanging far below him, and gave it to me. And when the command was
repeated, it did not occur to him to touch the thread.
It is likewise a sign of small understanding that the mouth is always opened
in smelling of a fragrant flower or perfume (Vol. I, p. 135). Deficiencies of
this kind are, indeed, quite logical from the standpoint of childish
experience. Because, at an earlier period the pleasant smell (of milk) always
came in connection with the pleasant taste, therefore, thinks the child, in
every case where there is a pleasant smell there will also be something that
tastes good. The common or collective concept taste-smell had not yet (in
the seventeenth month) been differentiated into the concepts taste and
smell.

In the department of the sense of hearing the differentiation generally
makes its appearance earlier; memory, as a rule, later. Yet children whose
talent for music is developed early, retain melodies even in their first year of
life. A girl to whom some of the Froebel songs were sung, and who was
taught appropriate movements of the hands and feet, always performed the
proper movement when one of the melodies was merely hummed, or a
verse was said (in the thirteenth month), without confounding them at all.
This early and firm association of sound-images with motor-images is
possible only when interest is attached to it—i. e., when the attention has
been directed often, persistently, and with concentration, upon the things to
be combined. Thus, this very child (in the nineteenth month), when her
favorite song, "Who will go for a Soldier?" ("Wer will unter die Soldaten?")
was sung to her, could not only join in the rhyme at the end of the verse,
but, no matter where a stop was made, she would go on, in a manner
imperfect, indeed, but easily intelligible (Frau Dr. Friedemann).
Here, however, in addition to memory and attention, heredity is to be
considered; since such a talent is wholly lacking in certain families, but in
others exists in all the brothers and sisters.
In performances of this kind, a superior understanding is not by any means
exhibited, but a stronger memory and faculty of association. These
associations are not, however, of a logical sort, but are habits acquired
through training, and they may even retard the development of the intellect
if they become numerous. For they may obstruct the formation, at an early
period, of independent ideas, merely on account of the time they claim.
Often, too, these artificial associations are almost useless for the
development of the intellect. They are too special. On this ground I am
compelled to censure the extravagancies, that are wide-spread especially in
Germany, of the Froebel methods of occupying young children.
The logic of the child naturally operates at the beginning with much more
extensive, and therefore less intensive, notions than those of adults, with
notions which the adult no longer forms. But the child does not, on that
account, proceed illogically, although he does proceed awkwardly. Some
further examples may illustrate.

The adult does not ordinarily try whether a door that he has just bolted is
fast; but the one-year-old child tests carefully the edge of the door he has
shut, to see whether it is really closed, because he does not understand the
effect of lock and bolt. For even in the eighteenth month he goes back and
forth with a key, to the writing-desk, with the evident purpose of opening it.
But at twelve months, when he tries whether it is fast, he does not think of
the key at all, and does not yet possess a single word.
An adult, before watering flowers with a watering-pot, will look to see
whether there is water in it. The child of a year and a half, who has seen
how watering is done, finds special pleasure in going from flower to flower,
even with an empty watering-pot, and making the motions of pouring upon
each one separately, as if water would really come out. For him the notion
"watering-pot" is identical with the notion "filled watering-pot," because at
first he was acquainted with the latter only.
Much of what is attributed to imagination in very young children rests
essentially on the formation of such vague concepts, on the inability to
combine constant qualities into sharply defined concepts. When, in the
twenty-third month, the child holds an empty cup to his mouth and sips and
swallows, and does it repeatedly, and with a serene, happy expression, this
"play" is founded chiefly on the imperfect notion "filled cup." The child has
so often perceived something to drink, drinking-vessel, and the act of
drinking, in combination with one another, that the one peremptorily
demands the other when either appears singly; hence the pleasure in
pouring out from empty pitchers into empty cups, and in drinking out of
empty cups (in second to fifth years). When adults do the same in the play
of the theatre, this action always has a value as language, it signifies
something for other persons; but with the child, who plays in this fashion
entirely alone, the pleasure consists in the production of familiar ideas
together with agreeable feelings, which are, as it were, crystallized with
comparative clearness out of the dull mass of undefined perceptions. These
memory-images become real existences, like the hallucinations of the
insane, because the sensuous impressions probably impress themselves
directly—without reflection—upon the growing brain, and hence the
memory-images of them, on account of their vividness, can not always be
surely distinguished from the perceptions themselves. Most of the plays that
children invent of themselves may be referred to this fact; on the other

hand, the play of hide-and-seek (especially in the seventeenth and
eighteenth months), and, nearly allied to this, the hunting after scraps of
paper, bits of biscuit, buttons, and other favorite objects (in the fifteenth
month), constitute an intellectual advance.
By practice in this kind of seeking for well-known, purposely concealed
objects, the intelligence of little children can easily be increased to an
astonishing degree, so that toward the end of the second year they already
understand some simple tricks of the juggler; for example, making a card
disappear. But after I had discontinued such exercises for months, the
ordinary capacity for being duped was again present.
This ease with which children can be deceived is to be attributed to lack of
experience far more than to lack of intelligence. When the child of a year
and a half offers leaves to a sheep or a stag, observes the strange animal
with somewhat timid astonishment, and a few days after holds out some
hastily plucked grass-blades to a chaffinch he sees hopping across the road,
supposing that the bird will likewise take them from his hand and eat them
—an observation that I made on my child exactly as Sigismund did on his
—it is not right to call such an act "stupid"; the act shows ignorance—i. e.,
inexperience—but it is not illogical. The child would be properly called
stupid only in case he did not learn the difference between the animals fed.
When, on the other hand, the child of two and a half years, entirely of his
own accord, holds a watch first to his left ear, then to his right, listens both
times, and then says, "The watch goes, goes too!" then, pointing with his
finger to a clock, cries with delight, "The clock goes too," we rightly find in
such independent induction a proof of intellect. For the swinging of the
pendulum and the ticking had indeed often been perceived, but to connect
the notion of a "going clock" with the visible but noiseless swinging, just as
with the audible but invisible ticking of the watch, requires a pretty well
advanced power of abstraction.
That the ability to abstract may show itself, though imperfectly, even in the
first year, is, according to my observations, certain. Infants are struck by a
quality of an object—e. g., the white appearance of milk. The "taking away"
or "abstracting" then consists in the isolating of this quality out of
innumerable other sight-impressions and the blending of the impressions
into a concept. The naming of this, which begins months later, by a

rudimental word, like mum, is an outward sign of this abstraction, which did
not at all lead to the formation of the concept, but followed it, as will be
shown in detail further on (in the two following chapters).
It would be interesting to collect observations concerning this reasoning
power in the very earliest period, because at that time language does not
interfere to help or to hinder. But it is just such observations that we
especially lack. When a child in the twelfth month, on hearing a watch for
the first time, cries out, "Tick-tick," looking meantime at the clock on the
wall, he has not, in doing this, "formed," as G. Lindner supposes, "his first
concept, although a vague and empty one as yet," but he had the concept
before, and has now merely given a name to it for the first time.
The first observation made in regard to his child by Darwin, which seemed
to him to prove "a sort of practical reflection," occurred on the one hundred
and forty-fourth day. The child grasped his father's finger and drew it to his
mouth, but his own hand prevented him from sucking the finger. The child
then, strangely enough, instead of entirely withdrawing his hand, slipped it
along the finger so that he could get the end of the finger into his mouth.
This proceeding was several times repeated, and was evidently not
accidental but intentional. At the age of five months, associations of ideas
arose independently of all instruction. Thus, e. g., the child, being dressed in
hat and cloak, was very angry if he was not at once taken out of doors.
How strong the reasoning power without words may be at a later period, the
following additional observations show:
From the time when my child, like Sigismund's (both in the fifteenth
month), had burned his finger in the flame of the candle, he could not be
induced to put his finger near the flame again, but he would sometimes put
it in fun toward the flame without touching it, and he even (eighteen months
old) carried a stick of wood of his own accord to the stove-door and pushed
it in through the open slide, with a proud look at his parents. There is surely
something more than an imitation here.
Further, my child at first never used to let his mouth and chin be wiped
without crying; from the fifteenth month on he kept perfectly quiet during
the disagreeable operation. He must have noticed that this was finished
sooner when he was quiet.

The same thing can be observed in every little child, provided he is not too
much talked to, punished, yielded to, or spoiled. In the nineteenth month it
happened with my child that he resisted the command to lie down in the
evening. I let him cry, and raise himself on his bed, but did not take him up,
did not speak to him, did not use any force, but remained motionless and
watchful near by. At last he became tired, lay down, and fell asleep directly.
Here he acquired an understanding of the uselessness of crying in order to
avoid obedience to commands.
The knowledge of right (what is allowed and commanded) and of wrong
(what is forbidden) had been long since acquired. In the seventeenth month,
e. g., a sense of cleanliness was strongly developed, and later (in the thirty-
third month) the child could not, without lively protest, behold his nurse
acting contrary to the directions that had been given to himself—e. g.,
putting the knife into her mouth or dipping bread into the milk. Emotions of
this kind are less a proof of the existence of a sense of duty than of the
understanding that violations of well-known precepts have unpleasant
consequences—i. e., that certain actions bring in their train pleasant
feelings, while other acts bring unpleasant feelings. How long before the
knowledge of words these emotions began to exist I have, unfortunately, not
succeeded in determining.
But in many of the above cases—and they might without difficulty be
multiplied by diligent observation—there is not the least indication of any
influence of spoken words. Whether no attempt at speaking has preceded,
or whether a small collection of words may have been made, the cases of
child-intelligence adduced in this chapter, observed by myself, prove that
without knowledge of verbal language, and independently of it, the logical
activity of the child attains a high degree of development, and no reason
exists for explaining the intelligent actions of children who do not yet speak
at all—i. e., do not yet clothe their ideas in words, but do already combine
them with one another—as being different specifically from the intelligent
(not instinctive) actions of sagacious orangs and chimpanzees. The
difference consists far more in this, that the latter can not form so many, so
clear, and so abstract conceptions, or so many and complicated
combinations of ideas, as can the gifted human child in the society of
human beings—even before he has learned to speak. When he has learned
to speak, then the gap widens to such an extent that what before was in

some respects almost the equal of humanity seems now a repulsive
caricature of it.
In order, then, to understand the real difference between brute and man, it is
necessary to ascertain how a child and a brute animal may have ideas
without words, and may combine them for an end: whether it is done, e. g.,
with memory-images, as in dreaming. And it is necessary also to investigate
the essential character of the process of learning to speak.
Concerning the first problem, which is of uncommon psychogenetic interest
and practical importance, a solution seems to be promised in the
investigation of the formation of concepts in the case of those born deaf, the
so-called deaf and dumb children. On this point I offer first the words of a
man of practical experience.
The excellent superintendent of the Educational Institute for the Deaf and
Dumb in Weimar, C. Oehlwein (1867), well says:
"The deaf-mute in his first years of life looks at, turns over, feels of objects
that attract him, on all sides, and approaches those that are at a distance. By
this he receives, like the young child who has all his senses, sensations and
sensuous ideas;[C] and from the objects themselves he apprehends a number
of qualities, which he compares with one another or with the qualities of
other objects, but always refers to the object which at the time attracts him.
Herein he has a more correct or less correct sense-intuition of this object,
according as he has observed, compared, and comprehended more or less
attentively. As this object has affected him throughsight and feeling, so he
represents it to other persons also by characteristic signs for sight and
indirectly for feeling also. He shapes or draws a copy of the object seen and
felt with life and movement. For this he avails himself of the means that
Nature has placed directly within human power—the control over the
movement of the facial muscles, over the use of the hands, and, if
necessary, of the feet also. These signs, not obtained from any one's
suggestion, self-formed, which the deaf-mute employs directly in his
representation, are, as it were, the given outline of the image which he has
found, and they stand therefore in the closest relation to the inner
constitution of the individual that makes the representation.

"But we find not only that the individual senses of the deaf-mute, his own
observation and apprehension, are formative factors in the occurrences of
sensation and perception, as is of course the case, but that the qualities of
the objects observed by him, and associated, according to his individual
tendencies, are also raised by him, through comparison, separation,
grouping—through his own act, therefore—to general ideas, concepts,
although as yet imperfect ones, and they are named and recognized again by
peculiar signs intelligible to himself.
"But in this very raising of an idea to a general idea, to a concept—a
process connected with the forming of a sign—is manifested the influence
of the lack of hearing and of speech upon the psychical development of the
deaf-mute. It appears at first to be an advantage that the sign by which the
deaf-mute represents an idea is derived from the impression, the image, the
idea, which the user of the sign himself has or has had; he expresses by the
sign nothing foreign to him, but only what has become his own. But this
advantage disappears when compared with the hindrance caused by this
very circumstance in the raising of the individual idea to a general idea, for
the fact that the latter is designated by the image, or the elements of the
image in which the former consists, is no small obstacle to it in attaining
complete generality. The same bond that unites the concept with the
conceiver binds it likewise to one of the individual ideas conceived—e. g.,
when, by pointing to his own flesh, his own skin, he designates the concept
flesh, skin (in general also the flesh or the skin of animals); whereas, by
means of the word, which the child who has all his senses is obliged to
learn, a constraint is indeed exercised as something foreign, but a constraint
that simply enforces upon his idea the claim of generality.
"One example more. The deaf-mute designates the concept, or general idea,
'red' by lightly touching his lips. With this sign he indicates the red of the
sky, of paintings, of dress-stuffs, of flowers, etc. Thus, in however manifold
connection with other concepts his concept 'red' may be repeated, it is to
him as a concept always one and the same only. It is common to all the
connections in which it repeatedly occurs."
But before the thinking deaf-mute arrived at the concept "red," he formed
for himself the ideas "lip, dress, sky, flower," etc.

For a knowledge of intellectual development in the child possessed of all
the senses, and of the great extent to which he is independent of verbal
language in the formation of concepts, it is indispensable to make a
collection of such concepts as uneducated deaf-mutes not acquainted either
with the finger-alphabet or with articulation express by means of their own
gestures in a manner intelligible to others. Their language, however,
comprises "not only the various expressive changes of countenance (play of
feature), but also the varied movements of the hands (gesticulations), the
positions, attitudes, bearing, and movements of the other parts of the entire
body, through which the deaf-mute naturally, i. e., untouched by
educational influences, expresses his ideas and conceptions." But I refrain
from making such a catalogue here, as we are concerned with the fact that
many concepts are, without any learning of words whatever, plainly
expressed and logically combined with one another, and their correctness is
proved by the conduct of any and every untaught child born deaf. Besides,
such a catalogue, in order to possess the psychogenetic value desired by me,
needs a critical examination extremely difficult to carry through as to
whether the "educational influences" supposed to be excluded are actually
wholly excluded in all cases as they really are in some cases, e. g., in regard
to food.
Degerando (1827) has enumerated a long list of concepts, which deaf-mutes
before they are instructed represent by pantomimic gesture. Many of these
forms of expression in French deaf-mutes are identical with those of
German. It is most earnestly to be wished that this international language of
feature and gesture used by children entirely uninstructed, born deaf, may
be made accessible to psycho-physiological and linguistic study by means
of pictorial representations—photographic best of all. This should be
founded on the experiences of German, French, English, Russian, Italian,
and other teachers of deaf-mutes.
For there is hardly a better proof that thinking is not dependent on the
language of words than the conduct of deaf-mutes, who express, indeed,
many more concepts of unlike content in the same manner than any verbal
language does—just as children with all their senses do before they possess
a satisfactory stock of words—but who, by gesticulation and pantomime
before receiving any instruction, demonstrate that concepts are formed
without words.

With reference to the manner in which uneducated deaf-mutes speak, the
following examples are characteristic performances in gesture-language:
One deaf-mute asks another, "Stay, go you?" (look of inquiry). Answer:
"Go, I" (i. e., "Do you stay or go?" "I go"). "Hunter hare shoots."
"Arm, man, be strong," means, "The man's arm is strong."
"N., spectacles, see," means, "N. sees with the spectacles."
"Run I finished, go to sleep," means, "When I had finished running, I went
to sleep." "Money, you?" means, "Have you money?"
One of the most interesting sights I know of, in a psychological and
physiological point of view, is a conversation in gesture and pantomime
between two or three children born totally deaf, who do not know that they
are observed. I am indebted to Director Oehlwein, of Weimar, for the
opportunity of such observations, as also for the above questions and
answers. Especially those children (of about seven years) not yet instructed
in articulation employ an astonishing number of looks and gestures,
following one upon another with great rapidity, in order to effect an
understanding with one another. They understand one another very easily,
but, because their gestures, and particularly their excessively subtilized play
of feature, do not appear in ordinary life, these children are just as hard to
understand for the uninitiated as are men who speak a wholly foreign
language without any gestures. Even the eye of the deaf-mute has a
different expression from that of the person who talks. The look seems
more "interested," and manifestly far fewer unnecessary movements of the
eyes and contractions of the facial muscles are made by the deaf-mute than
by the child of the same age who has his hearing.
Further, deaf-mutes, even those of small ability, imitate all sorts of
movements that are plainly visible much better, in general, than do persons
with all their senses. I made, in presence of the children, several not very
easy crossings of the fingers, put my hands in different positions, and the
like—movements that they could not ever have seen—and I was surprised
that some of the children at once made them deftly, whereas ordinary
children, first consider a long time, and then imitate clumsily. It is doubtless
this exaltation of the imitative functions in deaf-mute children which makes

it appear as if they themselves invented their gestures (see above, p. 23).
Certainly they do not get their first signs through "any one's suggestion,"
they form them for themselves, but, so far as I see, only through imitation
and the hereditary expressive movements. The signs are in great part
themselves unabridged imitations. The agreement, or "convention," which
many teachers of deaf-mutes assume, and which would introduce an
entirely causeless, not to say mysterious, principle, consists in this, that all
deaf-mutes in the beginning imitate the same thing in the same way. Thus,
through this perfectly natural accord of all, it comes to pass that they
understand one another. When they have gained ideas, then they combine
the separate signs in manifold ways, as one who speaks combines words, in
order to express new ideas; they become thereby more and more difficult to
be understood, and often are only with difficulty understood even among
themselves; and they are able only in very limited degree to form concepts
of a higher order. "Nothing, being dead, space"—these are concepts of a
very high order for them.
For this reason it is easy to comprehend that a deaf-mute child, although he
has learned but few words through instruction in articulation, weaves these
continually into his pantomimic conversation in place of his former
elaborate gestures. I observed that individual children, born totally deaf,
preferred, even in conversation with one another, and when ignorant of the
fact that I was observing them, the articulate words just learned, although
these were scarcely intelligible, to their own signs.
Thus mighty is the charm of the spoken word, even when the child does not
himself hear it, but merely feels it with his tongue.
But the schooling the deaf-mute must go through in order to become
acquainted with the sensations of sight, touch, and movement that go with
the sound, is unspeakably toilsome.
W. Gude says in his treatise, remarkable alike for acuteness and clearness,
"Principles and Outlines of the Exposition of a Scheme of Instruction for an
Institution for Deaf-Mutes" ("Grundsätze und Grundzüge zur Aufstellung
eines Lehrplans für eine Taubstummen-Anstalt," 1881): "The utterances of
tones and of articulate sounds called forth by involuntary stimulus during
the first years, in deaf-mutes, are such unimportant motor phenomena that

they are not immediately followed by a motor sensation. But when the deaf-
mute child is more awake mentally, he perceives that his relatives make
movements of the mouth in their intercourse, and repeated attempts of those
about him to make themselves intelligible by pronouncing certain words to
him are not entirely without effect upon the deaf-mute that is intellectually
active. When such deaf-mutes now direct their attention to the matter, they
succeed in regard to only a part of the sounds—those that are conspicuous
to the eye in their utterance—in getting a tolerable imitation. Individual
deaf-mutes go so far, in fact, as to understand various words correctly
without repeating them; others succeed gradually in repeating such words
as 'papa, mamma,' so that one can understand what is meant. Those who are
deaf-mutes from birth do not, however, of themselves, succeed in imitating
accurately other vocal sounds in general."
A deaf-mute, who had not been instructed, explained to Romanes, at a later
period when he had learned the sign-language, that he had before thought in
"images," which means nothing else than that he, in place of the words
heard (in our case) and the digital signs seen (in his case), had made use of
memory-images gained from visual impressions, for distinguishing his
concepts. Laura Bridgman, too, a person in general the subject of very
incorrect inferences, who was not blind and deaf from birth, could form a
small number of concepts that were above the lowest grade. These
originated from the materials furnished by the sense of touch, the muscular
sense and general sensibility, before she had learned a sort of finger-
language. But she had learned to speak somewhat before she became dumb
and blind. Children with sight, born deaf, seem not to be able to perform the
simplest arithmetical operations, e. g., 214-96 and 908 X 70 (according to
Asch, 1865), until after several years of continuous instruction in articulate
speaking. They do succeed, however, and that without sound-images of
words, and perhaps, too, without sight-images of words; in mental
arithmetic without knowledge of written figures, by help of the touch-
images of words which the tongue furnishes.
In any case uneducated persons born deaf can count by means of the fingers
without the knowledge of figures; and, when they go beyond 10, the
notched stick comes to their aid (Sicard and Degerando).

The language of gesture and feature in very young children, born dumb and
not treated differently from other children, shows also, in most abundant
measure, that concepts are formed without words. The child born deaf uses
the primitive language of gesture to the same extent as does the child that
has his hearing; the former makes himself intelligible by actions and sounds
as the latter does, so that his deficiency is not suspected. This natural
language is also understood by the child born deaf, so far as it is
recognizable by his eye. In the look and the features of his mother he reads
her mood. But he very early becomes quiet and develops for himself, "out
of unconscious gesticulation, the gesture language, which at first is not
conventional, nay, is not in the strict sense quite a sign-language, but a
mimetic-plastic representation of the influences experienced from the
external world," since the deaf-mute imitates movements perceived, and the
attitude of persons and the position of objects. Upon this pantomime alone
rests the possibility of coming to an understanding, within a certain range,
with deaf-mutes that have had no instruction at all. It can not, therefore, in
its elementary form be conventional, as Hill, to whom I owe these data,
rightly maintains. He writes concerning the child born deaf: "His voice
seems just like that of other children. He screams, weeps, according as he
feels uncomfortable; he starts when frightened by any noise. Even friendly
address, toying, fun, serious threats, are understood by him as early as by
any child." But he does not hear his own voice; it is not sound that frightens
him, but the concussion; it is not the pleasant word that delights him, but
the pleasant countenance of his mother. "It even happens, not seldom, that
through encouragement to use the voice, these children acquire a series of
articulate sounds, and a number of combinations of sounds, which they
employ as the expression of their wishes." They not only point out the
object desired, not only imitate movements that are to procure what they
want, but they also outline the forms of objects wished for. They are able to
conduct themselves so intelligently in this, that the deaf-mute condition is
not discovered till the second year, or even later, and then chiefly by their
use of the eye, because in case of distant objects only those seen excite their
attention.
From this behavior of infants born deaf it manifestly follows that even
without the possibility of natural imitation of sounds, and without the
knowledge of a single word, qualities may be blended with qualities into

concepts. Thus, primitive thinking is not bound up with verbal language. It
demands, however, a certain development of the cerebrum, probably a
certain very considerable number of ganglionic cells in the cerebral cortex,
that stand in firm organic connection with one another. The difference
between an uninstructed young deaf-mute and a cretin is immense. The
former can learn a great deal through instruction in speaking, the latter can
not. This very ability to learn, in the child born deaf, is greater than in the
normal child, in respect to pantomime and gesture. If a child with his
hearing had to grow up among deaf-mutes, he would undoubtedly learn
their language, and would in addition enjoy his own voice without being
able to make use of it; but he would probably be discovered, further on,
without testing his hearing, by the fact that he was not quite so complete a
master of this gesture-language as the deaf-mutes, on account of the
diversion of his attention by sound.
The total result of the foregoing observations concerning the capacity of
accomplishment on the part of uneducated deaf-mutes in regard to the
natural language of gesture and feature, demonstrates more plainly than any
other fact whatever that, without words and without signs for words,
thought-activity exists—that thinking takes place when both words and
signs for words are wanting. Wherefore, then, should the logical
combination of ideas in the human being born perfect begin only with the
speaking of words or the learning to speak? Because the adult supposes that
he no longer thinks without words, he easily draws the erroneous
conclusion that no one, that not even he himself, could think before the
knowledge of verbal language. In truth, however, it was not language that
generated the intellect; it is the intellect that formerly invented language:
and even now the new-born human being brings with him into the world far
more intellect than talent for language.

FOOTNOTES:
[C] Empfindungsvorstellungen.

CHAPTER XVII.

LEARNING TO SPEAK.

No human being remembers how he learned his mother-tongue in early
youth, and the whole human race has forgotten the origin of its articulate
speech as well as of its gestures; but every individual passes perceptibly
through the stage of learning to speak, so that a patient observer recognizes
much as conformable to law.
The acquisition of speech belongs to those physiological problems which
can not be solved by the most important means possessed by physiology,
vivisection. And the speechless condition in which every human being is
born can not be regarded as a disease that may be healed by instruction, as
is the case with certain forms of acquired aphasia. A set of other
accomplishments, such as swimming, riding, fencing, piano-playing, the
acquirement of which is physiological, are learned like articulate speech,
and nobody calls the person that can not swim an anomaly on that account.
The inability to appropriate to one's self these and other co-ordinated
muscular movements, this alone is abnormal. But we can not tell in advance
in the case of any new-born child whether he will learn to speak or not, just
as in the case of one who has suffered an obstruction of speech or has
entirely lost speech, it is not certain whether he will ever recover it.
In this the normal child that does not yet speak perfectly, resembles the
diseased adult who, for any cause, no longer has command of language.
And to compare these two with each other is the more important, as at
present no other empirical way is open to us for investigating the nature of
the process of learning to speak; but this way conducts us, fortunately,
through pathology, to solid, important physiological conclusions.

1. Disturbances of Speech in Adults.

The command of language comprises, on the one hand, the understanding
of what is spoken; on the other hand, the utterance of what is thought. It is
at the height of its performance in free, intelligible, connected speech.
Everything that disturbs the understanding of words heard must be
designated disturbance of speech equally with everything that disturbs the
production of words and sentences.
By means of excellent investigations made by many persons, especially by
Broca, Wernicke, Kussmaul, it has become possible to make a topical
division of most of the observed disturbances of speech of both kinds. In
the first class, which comprises the impressive processes, we have to
consider every functional disturbance of the peripheral ear, of the auditory
nerve and of the central ends of the auditory nerve; in the second class, viz.,
the expressive processes, we consider every functional disturbance of the
apparatus required for articulation, including the nerves belonging to this in
their whole extent, in particular the hypoglossus, as motor nerve of the
tongue, and certain parts of the cerebral hemispheres from which the nerves
of speech are excited and to which the sense-impressions from without are
so conducted by connecting fibers that they themselves or their memory-
images can call forth expressive, i. e., motor processes. The diagram, Fig. 1,
illustrates the matter.
The peripheral ear o, with the terminations of
the auditory nerve, is by means of sensory fibers
a, that are connected with the auditory nerve, in
connection with the storehouse of sound-
impressions, K. This is connected by means of
the intercentral paths v with the motor speech-
center M. From it go out special fibers of
communication, h, to the motor nerves of speech
which terminate in the external instruments of
articulation, z. Fig. 1.
The impressive nerve-path, o a K, is centripetal;
the expressive, M h z, centrifugal; v, intercentral.
When the normal child learns to speak, o receives the sound-impressions;
by a the acoustic-nerve excitations are passed along to K, and are here

stored up, every distinctly heard sound (a tone, a syllable, a word) leaving
an impression behind in K. It is very remarkable here that, among the many
sounds and noises that impress themselves upon the portions of the brain
directly connected with the auditory nerve, a selection is made in the sound-
field of speech, K, since all those impressions that can be reproduced,
among them all the acoustic images necessary for speech, are preserved, but
many others are not, e. g., thunder, crackling. Memory is indistinct with
regard to these. From K, when the sound-images or sound-impressions have
become sufficiently strong and numerous, the nerve-excitement goes farther
through the connecting paths v to M, where it liberates motor impulses, and
through h sets in activity the peripheral apparatus of speech, z.
Now, speech is disturbed when at any point the path o z is interrupted, or
the excitation conducted along the nerve-fibers and ganglionic cells upon
the hearing of something spoken or upon the speaking of something
represented in idea (heard inwardly) is arrested, a thing which may be
effected without a total interruption of the conduction, e. g., by means of
poison and through anatomical lesions.
On the basis of these physiological relations, about which there is no doubt,
I divide, then, all pure disturbances of speech, or lalopathies, into three
classes:

(1) Periphero-Impressive or Perceptive Disturbances.

The organ of hearing is injured at its peripheral extremity, or else the
acusticus in its course; then occurs difficulty of hearing or deafness. What is
spoken is not correctly heard or not heard at all: the utterance is correct only
in case the lesion happened late. If it is inborn, then this lack of speech,
alalia, is called deaf-mutism, although the so-called deaf and dumb are not
in reality dumb, but only deaf. If words spoken are incorrectly heard on
account of acquired defects of the peripheral ear, the patient mis-hears, and
the abnormal condition is called paracusis.

(2) Central Disturbances.

a. The higher impressive central paths are disturbed: centro-sensory
dysphasia and aphasia, or word-deafness. Words are heard but not

understood. The hearing is acute. "Patients may have perfectly correct
ideas, but they lack the correct expression for them; not the thoughts but the
words are confused. They would understand the ideas of others also if they
only understood the words. They are in the position of persons suddenly
transported into the midst of a people using the same sounds but different
words, which strike upon their ear like an unintelligible noise." (Kussmaul.)
Their articulation is without defect, but what they say is unintelligible
because the words are mutilated and used wrongly. C. Wernicke discovered
this form, and has separated it sharply from other disturbances of speech.
He designated it sensory aphasia. Kussmaul later named this abnormal
condition word-deafness (surditas verbalis).
b. The connections between the impressive sound-centers and the motor
speech-center are injured. Then we have intercentral conductive dysphasia
and aphasia. What is spoken is heard and understood correctly even when v
is completely interrupted. The articulation is not disturbed, and yet the
patient utters no word of himself. He can, however, read aloud what is
written. (Kussmaul.) The word that has just been read aloud by the patient
can not be repeated by him, neither can the word that has been pronounced
to him; and, notwithstanding this, he reads aloud with perfect correctness.
In this case, then, it is impossible for the patient of his own motion, even if
the memory of the words heard were not lost, to set in activity the
expressive mechanism of speech, although it might remain uninjured.
c. The motor speech-center is injured. Then we have centro-motor
dysphasia and aphasia. If the center is completely and exclusively
disturbed, then it is a case of pure ataxic aphasia. Spontaneous speaking,
saying over of words said by another, and reading aloud of writing, are
impossible. (Kussmaul.) On the other hand, words heard are understood,
although the concepts belonging with them can not be expressed aloud. The
verbal memory remains; and the patient can still express his thoughts in
writing and can copy in writing what he reads or what is dictated to him.

(3) Periphero-Expressive or Articulatory Disturbances.

The centrifugal paths from the motor speech-center to the motor nerves of
speech and to their extremities, or else these nerves themselves, are injured.
Then occurs dysarthria, and, if the path is totally impassable at any place,

anarthria. The hearing and understanding of words are not hindered, but
speaking, repeating the words of others, and reading aloud are, as in the last
case (2, c), impossible. In general this form can not be distinguished from
the foregoing when both are developed in an extreme degree, except in
cases of peripheral dysarthria, i. e., dyslalia, since, as may be easily
understood, it makes no difference in the resulting phenomena whether the
motor center itself is extirpated or its connections with the motor outlet are
absolutely cut off just where the latter begins; but if this latter is injured
nearer to the periphery, e. g., if the hypoglossus is paralyzed, then the
phenomena are different (paralalia, mogilalia). Here belongs all so-called
mechanical dyslalia, caused by defects of the peripheral speech-apparatus.
Of these five forms each occurs generally only in connection with another;
for this reason the topical diagnosis also is often extraordinarily difficult.
But enough cases have been accurately observed and collected to put it
almost beyond a doubt that each form may also appear for a short time
purely by itself. To be sure, the anatomical localization of the impressive
and expressive paths is not yet ascertained, so that for the present the
centripetal roads from the acusticus to the motor speech-center, and the
intercentral fibers that run to the higher centers, are as much unknown as
the centrifugal paths leading from them to the nuclei of the hypoglossus;
but that the speech-center discovered by Broca is situated in the posterior
portion of the third frontal convolution (in right-handed men on the left, in
left-handed on the right) is universally acknowledged.
Further, it results from the abundance of clinical material, that the acoustic-
center K must be divided into a sound-center L, a syllable-center S, a word-
center W, each of which may be in itself defective, for cases have been
observed in which sounds were still recognized and reproduced, but not
syllables and words, also cases in which sounds and syllables could be dealt
with but no words; and, finally, cases in which all these were wanting. The
original diagram is thereby considerably complicated, as the simple path of
connection between K and M has added to it the arcs L S M and L S W M
(Fig. 2).

Fig. 2.
The surest test of the perfect condition of all the segments is afforded by the
repetition of sounds, syllables, and words pronounced by others.
Syllables and sounds, but no words, can be pronounced if W is missing or
the path S W or W M is interrupted; no syllables if S is missing or L S or S
M is interrupted. If L is missing, then nothing can be repeated from hearing.
If L M is interrupted, then syllables and words are more easily repeated than
simple sounds, so far as the latter are not syllables. If L S is interrupted,
then simple sounds only can be repeated. All these abnormal states have
been actually observed. The proofs are to be found in Kussmaul's classic
work on the disturbances of speech (1877). Even the strange case appears in
which, L M being impracticable, syllables are more easily repeated than
simple sounds.
If a is interrupted before the acquirement of speech, and thus chronic
deafness is present in very early childhood, articulation may still be learned
through visual and tactile impressions; but in this case the sound-center L is
not developed. Another, a sound-touch-center, comes in its place in deaf-
mutes when they are instructed, chiefly through the tactile sensations of the
tongue; and, when they are instructed in reading (and writing), a sound-

sight-(or letter) center. This last is, on the contrary, wanting to those born
blind; and both are wanting to those born blind and deaf. Instead is formed
in them through careful instruction, by means of the tactile sensations of the
finger-tips, a center for signs of sound that are known by touch (as with the
printed text for the blind).
Accordingly, the eye and ear are not absolutely indispensable to the
acquirement of a verbal language; but for the thorough learning of the
verbal language in its entire significance both are by all means
indispensable. For, the person born blind does not get the significance of
words pertaining to light and color. For him, therefore, a large class of
conceptions, an extensive portion of the vocabulary of his language,
remains empty sound. To the one born deaf there is likewise an extensive
district of conceptions closed, inasmuch as all words pertaining to tone and
noise remain unintelligible to him.
Moreover, those born blind and deaf, or those born blind and becoming deaf
very early, or those born deaf and becoming blind very early, though they
may possess ever so good intelligence, and perhaps even learn to write
letters, as did the famous Laura Bridgman, will invariably understand only a
small part of the vocabulary of their language, and will not articulate
correctly.
Those born deaf are precisely the ones that show plainly how necessary
hearing is for the acquirement of perfectly articulate speech. One who is
deaf from birth does not even learn to speak half a dozen sounds correctly
without assistance, and the loss of speech that regularly follows deafness
coming on in children who have already learned to speak, shows how
inseparably the learning and the development of perfect articulation are
bound up with the hearing. Even the deafness that comes on in maturer
years injures essentially the agreeable tone, often also the intelligibility, of
the utterance.

2. The Organic Conditions of Learning to Speak.

How is it, now, with the normal child, who is learning to speak? How is it
as to the existence and practicability of the nervous conduction, and the
genesis of the centers?

In order to decide these questions, a further extension of the diagram is
necessary (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3.
For the last diagram deals only with the hearing and pronouncing of sounds,
syllables, and single words, not with the grammatical formation and
syntactical grouping of these; there must further be a center of higher rank,
the dictorium, or center of diction (Kussmaul), brought into connection with
the centers L S and W. And, on the one hand, the word-image acquired (by
hearing) must be at the disposition of the diction-center, an excitation,
therefore, passing from W to D (through m); on the other hand, an impulse
must go out from the diction-center to pronounce the word that is formed
and placed so as to correspond to the sense (through n). The same is true for
syllables and sounds, whose paths to and from are indicated by k and l, as
well as by g and i. These paths of connection must be of twofold sort. The
excitement can not pass off to the diction-center D on the same anatomical
path as the return impulse from D, because not a single case is known of a
nerve-fiber that in natural relations conducts both centrifugally and
centripetally, although this possibility of double conduction does occur
under artificial circumstances. Apart, then, from pathological experience,

which seems to be in favor of it, the separation of the two directions of the
excitement seems to be justified anatomically also. On the contrary, it is
questionable whether the impulse proceeding from D does not arrive
directly at the motor speech-center, instead of passing through W, S, or L.
The diagram then represents it as follows (Fig. 4). Here the paths of direct
connection i, l, and n from D to M represent that which was just now
represented by i L d and l S e and n W f, respectively; in Fig. 4, i conducts
only sound-excitations coming from L, l only excitations coming from S,
and n only those coming from W, as impulses for M. For the present, I see
no way of deciding between the two possibilities. They may even exist both
together. All the following statements concerning the localization of the
disturbances of speech and the parallel imperfections of child-speech apply
indifferently to either figure; it should be borne in mind that the nerve-
excitement always goes only in the direction of the arrows, never in the
opposite direction, through the nervous path corresponding to them. Such a
parallel is not only presented, as I have found, and as I will show in what
follows, by the most superficial exhibition of the manifold deviations of
child-speech from the later perfect speech, but is, above all, necessary for
the answering of the question: what is the condition of things in learning to
speak?

Fig. 4.

3. Parallel between the Disturbances of Speech in Adults and the
Imperfections of Speech in the Child.

In undertaking to draw such a parallel, I must first of all state that in regard
to the pathology of the subject, I have not much experience of my own, and
therefore I rely here upon Kussmaul's comprehensive work on speech-
disturbances, from which are taken most of the data that serve to
characterize the individual deviations from the rule. In that work also may
be found the explanations, or precise definitions, of almost all the names—
with the exception of the following, added here for the sake of brevity—
skoliophasia, skoliophrasia, and palimphrasia. On the other hand, the
statements concerning the speech of the child rest on my own observations
of children—especially of my own son—and readers who give their
attention to little children may verify them all; most of them, indeed, with
ease. Only the examples added for explaining mogilalia and paralalia are
taken in part from Sigismund, a few others from Vierordt. They show more
plainly (at least concerning rhotacism) than my own notes, some

imperfections of articulation of the child in the second year, which occur,
however, only in single individuals. In general the defects of child-speech
are found to be very unequally distributed among different ages and
individuals, so that we can hardly expect to find all the speech-disturbances
of adults manifested in typical fashion in one and the same child. But with
very careful observation it may be done, notwithstanding; and when several
children are compared with one another in this respect, the analogies fairly
force themselves upon the observer, and there is no break anywhere.
The whole group into which I have tried to bring in organic connection all
the kinds of disturbances and defects of speech in systematic form falls into
three divisions:
1. Imperfections not occasioned by disturbance of the intelligence—pure
speech-disturbances or lalopathies.
2. Imperfections occasioned solely by disturbances of the intelligence—
disturbances of continuous speech or discourse (Rede)—dysphrasies.
3. Imperfections of the language of gesture and feature— dysmimies.

I. LALOPATHY.

A. The Impressive Peripheral Processes Disturbed.

Deafness.—Persons able to speak but who have become deaf do not
understand what is spoken simply because they can no longer hear. The
newly born do not understand what is spoken because they can not yet hear.
The paths o and a are not yet practicable. All those just born are deaf and
dumb.
Difficulty of Hearing.—Persons who have become hard of hearing do not
understand what is spoken, or they misunderstand, because they no longer
hear distinctly. Such individuals easily hear wrong (paracusis).

Very young infants do not understand what is spoken, for the reason that
they do not yet hear distinctly; o and a are still difficult for the acoustic
nerve-excitement to traverse. Little children very easily hear wrong on this
account.

B. The Central Processes Disturbed.

Dysphasia.—In the child that can use only a small number of words, the
cerebral and psychical act through which he connects these with his ideas
and gives them grammatical form and syntactical construction in order to
express the movement of his thought is not yet complete.

(1) The Sensory Processes centrally disturbed.

Sensory Aphasia (Wernicke), Word-Deafness (Kussmaul).—The child, in
spite of good hearing and sufficiently developed intelligence, can not yet
understand spoken words because the path m is not yet formed and the
storehouse of word images W is still empty or is just in the stage of
origination.
Amnesia, Amnesic Dysphasia and Aphasia, Partial and Total Word-
Amnesia, Memory-Aphasia.—The child has as yet no word-memory, or
only a weak one, utters meaningless sounds and sound-combinations. He
can not yet use words because he does not yet have them at his disposal as
acoustic sound-combinations. In this stage, however, much that is said to
him can be repeated correctly in case W is passable, though empty or
imperfectly developed.

(2) The Sensori-motor Processes of Diction disturbed.

Acataphasia (Steinthal).—The child that has already a considerable number
of words at his disposal is not yet in condition to arrange them in a sentence
syntactically. He can not yet frame correct sentences to express the
movement of his thought, because his diction-center D is still imperfectly
developed. He expresses a whole sentence by a word; e. g., hot! means as
much as "The milk is too hot for me to drink," and then again it may mean
"The stove is too hot!" Man! means "A strange man has come!"

Dysgrammatism (Kussmaul) and Agrammatism (Steinthal).—Children can
not yet put words into correct grammatical form, decline, or conjugate.
They like to use the indefinite noun-substantive and the infinitive, likewise
to some extent the past participle. They prefer the weak inflection, ignore
and confound the articles, conjunctions, auxiliaries, prepositions, and
pronouns. In place of "I" they say their own names, also tint (for "Kind"—
child or "baby"). Instead of "Du, er, Sie" (thou, he, you), they use proper
names, or man, papa, mamma. Sometimes, too, the adjectives are placed
after the nouns, and the meaning of words is indicated by their position with
reference to others, by the intonation, by looks and gestures. Agrammatism
in child-language always appears in company with acataphasia, often also
in insane persons. When the imbecile Tony says, "Tony flowers taken,
attendant come, Tony whipped" (Tony Blumen genommen, Wärterin
gekommen, Tony gehaut), she speaks exactly like a child (Kussmaul),
without articles, pronouns, or auxiliary verbs, and, like the child, uses the
weak inflection. The connection m of the word-image-center W with the
diction-center D, i. e., of the word-memory with grammar, and the centers
themselves, are as yet very imperfectly developed, unused.
Bradyphasia.—Children that can already frame sentences take a surprising
amount of time in speaking on account of the slowness of their diction. In D
and W m in the cerebral cortex the hindrances are still great because of too
slight practice.

(3) The Motor Processes centrally disturbed.

a. Centro-motor Dysphasia and Aphasia, Aphemia, Asymbolia, Asemia.—
Children have not yet learned, or have hardly learned, the use of language,
although their intelligence is already sufficient. There is no longer any
deficiency in the development of the external organs of speech, no muscular
weakness, no imperfection of the nervous structures that effect the
articulation of the separate sounds, for intelligence shows itself in the
child's actions; he forms the separate sounds correctly, unintentionally; his
hearing is good and the sensory word-memory is present, since the child
already obeys. His not yet speaking at this period (commonly as late as the
second year) must accordingly be essentially of centro-motor character.

In the various forms of this condition there is injury or lack of sufficient
relative development either in the centro-motorium M or in the paths that
lead into it, d, e, f as well as i, l, n.
α. Central Dysarthria and Anarthria.—In the child at the stage of
development just indicated articulation is not yet perfect, inasmuch as while
he often unintentionally pronounces correctly sounds, syllables, and single
words, yet he can not form these intentionally, although he hears and
understands them aright. He makes use of gestures.
Ataxic Aphasia (Verbal Anarthria).—The child that already understands
several words as sound-combinations and retains them (since he obeys), can
not yet use these in speech because he has not yet the requisite centro-motor
impulses. He forms correctly the few syllables he has already learned of his
future language, i. e., those he has at the time in memory as sound-
combinations (sensory), but can not yet group them into new words; e. g.,
he says bi and te correctly, learns also to say "bitte," but not yet at this
period "tibe," "tebi." He lacks still the motor co-ordination of words.
At this period the gesture-language and modulation of voice of the child are
generally easy to understand, as in case of pure ataxic aphasia (the verbal
asemia or asymbolia of Finkelnburg) are the looks and gestures of aphasic
adults. Chiefly n, f, and M are as yet imperfectly developed.
Central Stammering and Lisping (Literal Dysarthria).—Children just
beginning to form sentences stammer, not uttering the sounds correctly.
They also, as a rule, lisp for a considerable time, so that the words spoken
by them are still indistinct and are intelligible only to the persons most
intimately associated with them.
The paths d and i, and consequently the centro-motorium M, come chiefly
into consideration here; but L also is concerned, so far as from it comes the
motor impulse to make a sound audible through M.
The babbling of the infant is not to be confounded with this. That imports
merely the unintentional production of single disconnected articulate
sounds with non-coördinated movements of the tongue on account of
uncontrolled excitement of the nerves of the tongue.

Stuttering (Syllabic Dysarthria).—Stutterers articulate each separate sound
correctly, but connect the consonants, especially the explosive sounds, with
the succeeding vowels badly, with effort as if an obstacle were to be
overcome. The paths i and l are affected, and hence M is not properly
excited. S, too, comes under consideration in the case of stuttering, so far as
impulses go out from it for the pronunciation of the syllables.
Children who can not yet speak of themselves but can repeat what is said
for them, exert themselves unnecessarily, making a strong expiratory effort
(with the help of abdominal pressure) to repeat a syllable still unfamiliar,
and they pause between the doubled or tripled consonant and vowel. This
peculiarity, which soon passes away and is to be traced often to the lack of
practice and to embarrassment (in case of threats), and which may be
observed occasionally in every child, is stuttering proper, although it
appears more seldom than in stutterers. Example: The child of two years is
to say "Tischdecke," and he begins with an unnecessary expiratory effort, T-
t-itt-t, and does not finish.
Stuttering is by no means a physiological transition-stage through which
every child learning to speak must necessarily pass. But it is easily
acquired, in learning to speak, by imitation of stutterers, in frequent
intercourse with them. Hence, stutterers have sometimes stuttering children.
β. Stumbling at Syllables.—Children that already articulate correctly
separate sounds, and do so intentionally, very often put together syllables
out of the sounds incorrectly, and frame words incorrectly from the
syllables, where we can not assume deficient development of the external
organs of speech; this is solely because the co-ordination is still imperfect.
The child accordingly says beti before he can say bitte; so too grefessen
instead of gefressen.
The tracts l and n are still incompletely developed; also S and W, so far as
impulses come thence to utter syllables by means of M.
b. Paraphasia.—Children have learned some expressions in their future
language, and use them independently but wrongly; they put in the place of
the appropriate word an incorrect one, confounding words because they can
not yet correctly combine their ideas with the word-images. They say, e. g.,

Kind instead of "Kinn," and Sand instead of "Salz"; also Netz for "Nest" and
Billard for "Billet," Matrone for "Patrone."
The connection of D with M through n is still imperfect, and perhaps also
M is not sufficiently developed.
Making Mistakes in Speaking (Skoliophasia).—In this kind of paraphasia in
adults the cause is a lack of attention; therefore purely central concentration
is wanting, or one fails to "collect himself"; there is distraction, hence the
unintentional, frequently unconscious, confounding of words similar in
sound or connected merely by remote, often dim, reminiscences. This kind
of mis-speaking through carelessness is distinguished from skoliophrasia
(see below) by the fact that there is no disturbance of the intelligence, and
the correction easily follows.
Skoliophasia occurs regularly with children in the second and third years
(and later). The child in general has not yet the ability to concentrate his
attention upon that which is to be spoken. He wills to do it but can not yet.
Hence, even in spite of the greatest effort, occur often erroneous repetitions
of words pronounced for him (aside from difficulties of articulation, and
also when these are wanting); hence confounding (of words), wrong forms
of address, e. g., Mama or Helene instead of "Papa," and Papa instead of
"Marie."
c. Taciturnity (Dumbness).—Individual human beings of sound physical
condition who can speak very well are dumb, or speak only two or three
words in all for several years, because they no longer will to speak (e. g., in
the belief that silence prevents them from doing wrong).
This taciturnity is not to be confounded with the paranoic aphrasia in
certain insane persons—e. g., in catatonia, where the will is paralyzed.
It also occurs—seldom, however—that children who have already learned
to speak pretty well are dumb, or speak only a few words—among these the
word no—during several months, or speak only with certain persons,
because they will not speak (out of obstinacy, or embarrassment). Here an
organic obstacle in the motor speech-center is probable. For voluntary
dumbness requires great strength of will, which is hardly to be attributed to

the child. The unwillingness to speak that is prompted by fun never lasts
long.

C. The Expressive Peripheral Processes
Disturbed.

(1) Dyslalia and Alalia (Peripheral Dysarthria and Anarthria).

The infant can not yet articulate correctly, or at all, on account of the still
deficient development, and afterward the lack of control, of the nerves of
speech and the external organs of speech. The complete inability to
articulate is called alalia. The newly born is alalic. Dyslalia continues with
many children a long time even after the learning of the mother-tongue.
This is always a case simply of imperfections in h and z.
a. Bulbo-nuclear Stammering (Literal Bulbo-nuclear Dysarthria and
Anarthria).—Patients who have lost control over the muscles of speech
through bulbo-nuclear paralysis, stammer before they become speechless,
and along with paralysis and atrophy of the tongue occur regularly fibrillar
contractions of the muscles of the tongue. The tongue is no longer regulated
by the will.
The child that has not yet gained control over his vocal muscles stammers
before he can speak correctly, and, according to my observations, regularly
shows fibrillar contractions of the muscles of the tongue along with an
extraordinary mobility of the tongue. The tongue is not yet regulated by the
will. Its movements are aimless.
b. Mogilalia.—Children, on account of the as yet deficient control of the
external organs of speech, especially of the tongue, can not yet form some
sounds, and therefore omit them. They say, e. g., in for "hin," ätz for
"Herz," eitun for "Zeitung," ere for "Schere."
Gammacism.—Children find difficulties in the voluntary utterance of K and
Ks (x), and indeed of G, and therefore often omit these sounds without
substituting others; they say, e. g., atsen for "Klatschen," atten for "Garten,"
asse for "Gasse," all for "Karl," ete for "Grete" (in the second year), wesen
for "gewesen," opf for "Kopf."

Sigmatism.—All children are late in learning to pronounce correctly S, and
generally still later with Sch, and therefore omit both, or in a lisping fashion
put S in place of Sch; more rarely Sch in place of S. They say, e. g., saf. in
place of "Schaf," int for "singt," anz for "Salz," lafen and slafen for
"schlafen," iss for "Hirsch," pitte for "Splitter," tul for "Stuhl," wein for
"Schwein," Tuttav for "Gustav," torch for "Storch" (second year), emele for
"Schemel," webenau for "Fledermaus," but also Kusch for "Kuss." But in
no case have I myself heard a child regularly put "sch" in place of s, as
Joschef for "Josef." This form, perhaps, occurs in Jewish families; but I
have no further observations concerning it as yet.
Rhotacism.—Many children do not form R at all for a long time and put
nothing in place of it. They say duch for "durch," bot for "Brot," unte for
"herunter," tautech for "traurig," ule for "Ruhe," tänen for "Thränen," ukka
for "Zucker." On the contrary, some form early the R lingual, guttural, and
labial, but all confound now and then the first two with each other.
Lambdacism.—Many children are late in learning to utter L, and often omit
it. They say, e. g., icht for "Licht," voge for "Vogel," atenne for "Laterne,"
batn for "Blatt," mante for "Mantel."

(2) Literal Pararthria or Paralalia.

Children who are beginning to repeat intentionally what is said, often put
another sound in place of the well-known correct (no doubt intended) one;
this on account of deficient control of the tongue or other peripheral organs
of speech. e. g., they say t in place of p, or b for w (basse for "Wasser" and
for "Flasche"), e for i and o for u, as in bete for "bitte," and Ohr for "Uhr."
Paragammacism.—Children supply the place of the insuperably difficult
sounds G, K, X by others, especially D and T, also N, saying, e. g., itte for
"Rike," finne for "Finger," tein for "Klein," toss for "gross," atitte for
"Karnickel," otute for "Kuk," attall for "Axel," wodal for "Vogel," tut for
"gut," tatze for "Katze."
Parasigmatism.—Children are late in learning to utter S and Sch correctly.
They often supply the place of them, before acquiring them, by other
sounds, saying, e. g., tule for "Schule," ade for "Hase," webbe for "Wasser,"

beb for "bös," bebe for "Besen," gigod for "Schildkröte," baubee for
"Schwalbe."
Pararhotacism.—Most children, if not all, even when they have very early
formed R correctly (involuntarily), introduce other sounds in place of it in
speaking—e. g., they say moigjen for "morgen," matta for "Martha," annold
for "Arnold," jeiben for "reiben," amum for "warum," welfen for "werfen."
Paralambdacism.—Many children who do not learn until late to utter L put
in its place other sounds; saying, e. g., bind for "Bild," bampe for "Lampe,"
tinne for "stille," degen for "legen," wewe for "Löwe," ewebau for
"Elephant."

(3) Bradylalia or Bradyarthria.

Children reciting for the first time something learned by heart speak not
always indistinctly, but, on account of the incomplete practicability of the
motor-paths, slowly, monotonously, without modulation. Sounds and
syllables do not yet follow one another quickly, although they are already
formed correctly. The syllables belonging to a word are often separated by
pauses like the words themselves—a sort of dysphasia-of-conduction on
account of the more difficult and prolonged conduction of the motor-
impulse. I knew a boy (feeble-minded, to be sure) who took from three to
eight seconds for answering even the simplest question; then came a regular
explosion of utterance. Yet he did not stutter or stammer. When he had only
yes or no to answer, the interval between question and answer was shorter.
Here belong in part also the imperfections of speech that are occasioned by
too large a tongue (macroglossia). When a child is born with too large a
tongue, he may remain long alalic, without the loss of intellectual
development, as was observed to be the case by Paster and O. von
Heusinger (1882).

II. DYSPHRASIA (DYSLOGICAL DISTURBANCES OF
SPEECH).

The child that can already speak pretty correctly deforms his speech after
the manner of insane persons, being moved by strange caprices, because his
understanding is not yet sufficiently developed.
Logorrhœa (Loquaciousness).—It is a regular occurrence with children that
their pleasure in articulation and in vocal sound often induces them to hold
long monologues, sometimes in articulate sounds and syllables, sometimes
not. This chattering is kept up till the grown people present are weary, and
that by children who can not yet talk; and their screaming is often
interrupted only by hoarseness, just as in the case of the polyphrasia of the
insane.
Dysphrasia of the Melancholy.—Children exert themselves perceptibly in
their first attempts to speak, answer indolently or not at all, or frequently
with embarrassment, always slowly, often with drawl and monotone, very
frequently coming to a stop. They also sometimes begin to speak, and then
lose at once the inclination to go on.
Dysphrasia of the Delirious (Wahnsinnigen).—Children that have begun to
speak often make new words for themselves. They have already invented
signs before this; they are also unintelligible often-times because they use
the words they have learned in a different sense.
Dysphrasia of the Insane (Verrückten).—The child is not yet prepared to
speak. He possesses only non-co-ordinated sounds and isolated rudiments
of words, primitive syllables, roots, as the primitive raw material of the
future speech.
In many insane persons only the disconnected remains or ruins of their
stock of words are left, so that their speech resembles that of the child at a
certain stage.
Dysphrasia of the Feeble-minded.—The child at first reacts only upon
strong impressions, and that often indolently and clumsily and with outcry;
later, upon impressions of ordinary strength, without understanding—
laughing, crowing, uttering disconnected syllables.
So the patient reacts either upon strong impressions only, and that
indolently, bluntly, with gestures that express little and with rude words, or

he still reacts upon impressions of ordinary strength, but in flat, silly,
disconnected utterances.
Dysphrasia of Idiots.—Children have command at the beginning of no
articulate sounds; then they learn these and syllables; after this also words
of one syllable; then they speak short words of more than one syllable and
sentences, but frequently babble forth words they have heard without
understanding their meaning, like parrots.
Imbeciles also frequently command only short words and sentences or
monosyllabic words and sounds, or, finally, they lack all articulate sound.
Many microcephalous idiots babble words without understanding their
meaning, like little children.
Echo-speech or Echolalia (Imitative Reflex Speech).—Children not yet able
to frame a sentence correctly like to repeat the last word of a sentence they
have heard; and this, according to my observations and researches, is so
general that I am forced to call this echolalia a physiological transition
stage. Of long words said to them, the children usually repeat only the last
two syllables or the last syllable only. The feeble-minded also repeat
monotonously the words and sentences said by a person in their
neighborhood without showing an awakened attention, and in general
without connecting any idea with what they say. (Romberg.)
Interjectional Speech.—Children sometimes have a fancy for speaking in
interjections. They express vague ideas by single vowels (like ä), syllables
(e. g., na, da), and combinations of syllables, and frequently call out aloud
through the house meaningless sounds and syllables. D and W are as yet
undeveloped.
Often, too, children imitate the interjections used by members of the family
—hop! patsch, bauz! an interjectional echolalia. Many deranged persons
express their feelings in like manner, in sounds, especially vowels,
syllables, or sound-combinations resembling words, which are void of
meaning or are associated merely with obscure ideas (Martini). Then D is
connected with M only through L and S, and so through i and e.
Embolophrasia.—Many children, long after they have overcome
acataphasia and agrammatism, delight in inserting between words sounds,

syllables, and words that do not belong there; e. g., they double the last
syllable of every word and put an eff to it: ich-ich-eff, bin in-eff, etc., or they
make a kind of bleat between the words (Kussmaul); and, in telling a story,
put extra syllables into their utterance while they are thinking.
Many adults likewise have the disagreeable habit of introducing certain
words or meaningless syllables into their speech, where these do not at all
belong; or they tack on diminutive endings to their words. The syllables are
often mere sounds, like eh, uh; in many cases they sound like eng, ang
(angophrasia—Kussmaul).
Palimphrasia.—Insane persons often repeat single sounds, syllables, or
sentences, over and over without meaning; e. g., "I am-am-am-am."
"The phenomenon in many cases reminds us of children, who say or sing
some word or phrase, a rhyme or little verse, so long continuously, like
automata, that the by-standers can endure it no longer. It is often the ring of
the words, often the sense, often both, by which the children are impressed.
The child repeats them because they seem to him strange or very sonorous."
(Kussmaul.)
Bradyphrasia.—The speech of people that are sad or sleepy, and of others
whose mental processes are indolent, often drags along with tedious
slowness; is also liable to be broken off abruptly. The speaker comes to a
standstill. This is not to be confounded with bradyphasia or with
bradyarthria or bradylalia (see above).
In children likewise the forming of the sentence takes a long time on
account of the as yet slow rise and combination of ideas, and a simple
narrative is only slowly completed or not finished at all, because the
intellectual processes in the brain are too fatiguing.
Paraphrasia.—Under the same circumstances as in the case of
bradyphrasia the (slow) speech may be marred and may become
unintelligible because the train of thought is confused—e. g., in persons
"drunk" with sleep—so that words are uttered that do not correspond to the
original ideas.
In the case of children who want to tell something, and who begin right, the
story may be interrupted easily by a recollection, a fresh train of thought,

and still they go on; e. g., they mix up two fairy tales, attaching to the
beginning of one the end of another.
Skoliophrasia.—Distracted and timid feeble-minded persons easily make
mistakes in speaking, because they can not direct their attention to what
they are saying and to the way in which they are saying it, but they wander,
allowing themselves to be turned aside from the thing to be said by all sorts
of ideas and external impressions; and, moreover, they do not notice
afterward that they have been making mistakes (cf. p. 53).
Children frequently put a wrong word in place of a right one well known to
them, without noticing it. They allow themselves to be turned aside very
easily from the main point by external impressions and all sorts of fancies,
and often, in fact, say the opposite of what they mean without noticing it.

III. DYSMIMIA.

Disturbances of Gesture-Language (Pantomime).

Perceptive Asemia.—Patients have lost the ability to understand looks and
gestures (Steinthal).
Children can not yet understand the looks and gestures of persons about
them.
Amnesic Amimia.—Aphasic persons can sometimes imitate gestures, but
can not execute them when bid, but only when the gestures are made for
them to imitate. Children that do not yet speak can imitate gestures if these
are made for them to see, but it is often a long time before they can make
them at the word of command.
Ataxic Dysmimia and Amimia (Mimetic Asemia).—Patients can no longer
execute significative looks and gestures, on account of defective co-
ordination.
Children can not express their states of desire, etc., because they do not yet
control the requisite co-ordination for the corresponding looks and gestures.

Paramimia (Paramimetic Asemia).—Many patients can make use of looks
and gestures, but confound them.
Children have not yet firmly impressed upon them the significance of looks
and gestures; this is shown in their interchanging of these; e. g., the head is
shaken in the way of denial when they are affirming something.
Emotive Language (Affectsprache) in Aphrasia.—In Aphrasia it happens
that smiling, laughing, and weeping are no longer controlled, and that they
break out on the least occasion with the greatest violence, like the spinal
reflexes in decapitated animals. (Hughlings-Jackson.)
Emotive language may continue when the language of ideas
(Begriffssprache) is completely extinguished, and idiotic children without
speech can even sing.
In children, far slighter occasions suffice normally to call forth smiles,
laughter, and tears, than in adults. These emotional utterances are not yet
often voluntarily inhibited by the child that can not yet speak; on the
contrary, they are unnecessarily repeated.
Apraxia.—Many patients are no longer in condition, on account of
disturbed intellect, to make right use of ordinary objects, the use of which
they knew well formerly; e. g., they can no longer find the way to the
mouth; or they bite into the soap.
Children are not yet in condition, on account of deficient practice, to use the
common utensils rightly; e. g., they will eat soup with a fork, and will put
the fork against the cheek instead of into the mouth.

4. Development of Speech in the Child.

We may now take up the main question as to the condition of the child that
is learning to speak, in regard to the development and practicability of the
nerve-paths and of the centers required for speech. For the comparison of
the disturbances of speech in adults with the deficiencies of speech in the
child, on the one hand, and the chronological observation of the child, on
the other hand, disclose to us what parts of the apparatus of speech come by

degrees into operation. First to be considered are the impressive and
expressive paths in general.
All new-born human beings are deaf or hard of hearing, as has already been
demonstrated. Since the hearing but slowly grows more acute during the
first days, no utterances of sound at this period can be regarded as responses
to any sound-impressions whatever. The first cry is purely reflexive, like the
croaking of the decapitated frog when the skin of his back is stroked (Vol. I,
p. 214). The cry is not heard by the newly-born himself and has not the least
value as language. It is on a par with the squeaking of the pig just born, the
bleating of the new-born lamb, and the peeping of the chick that is breaking
its shell.
Upon this first, short season of physiological deaf-mutism follows the
period during which crying expresses bodily conditions, feelings such as
pain, hunger, cold. Here, again, there exists as yet no connection of the
expressive phenomena with acoustic impressions, but there is already the
employment of the voice with stronger expiration in case of strong and
disagreeable excitations of other sensory nerves than those of general
sensation and of the skin. For the child now cries at a dazzling light also,
and at a bitter taste, as if the unpleasant feeling were diminished by the
strong motor discharge. In any case the child cries because this loud,
augmented expiration lessens for him the previously existing unpleasant
feelings, without exactly inducing thereby a comfortable condition.
Not until later does a sudden sound-impression, which at first called forth
only a start and then a quivering of the eyelids, cause also crying. But this
loud sign of fright may be purely reflexive, just like the silent starting and
throwing up of the arms at a sudden noise, and has at most the significance
of an expression of discomfort, like screaming at a painful blow.
It is otherwise with the first loud response to an acoustic impression
recognized as new. The indefinable sounds of satisfaction made by the child
that hears music for the first time are no longer reflexive, and are not
symptoms of displeasure. I see in this reaction, which may be compared
with the howling of the dog that for the first time in his life hears music—I
see in this reaction of the apparatus of voice and of future speech, the first
sign of the connection now just established between impressive (acoustic)

and expressive (having the character of emotive language) paths. The
impressive, separately, were long since open, as the children under
observation after the first week allowed themselves to be quieted by the
singing of cradle-songs, and the expressive, separately, must likewise have
been open, since various conditions were announced by various sorts of
crying.
Everything now depends on a well-established intercentral communication
between the two. This is next to be discussed.
The primitive connection is already an advance upon that of a reflex arc.
The sound-excitations arriving from the ear at the central endings of the
auditory nerve are not directly transformed into motor excitations for the
laryngeal nerves, so that the glottis contracts to utter vocal sound. When the
child (as early as the sixth to the eighth week) takes pleasure in music and
laughs aloud, his voice can not in this case (as at birth) have been educed by
reflex action, for without a cerebrum he would not laugh or utter joyous
sounds, whereas even without that he cries.
From this, however, by no means follows the existence of a speech-center
in the infant. The fact that he produces sounds easily articulated, although
without choice, like tahu and amma, proves merely the functional capacity
of the peripheral apparatus of articulation (in the seventh week) at a period
long before it is intentionally used for articulation. The unintentionally
uttered syllables that make their appearance are, to be sure, simple, at least
in the first half-year. It is vowels almost exclusively that appear in the first
month, and these predominate for a long time yet. Of the consonants in the
third month m alone is generally to be noted as frequent. This letter comes
at a later period also, from the raising and dropping of the lower jaw in
expiration, an operation that is besides soon easy for the infant with less
outlay of will than the letter b, which necessitates a firmer closing of the
lips.
But in spite of the simplicity of all the vocal utterances and of the
defectiveness of the articulatory apparatus, the child is able (often long
before the seventh month) to respond to address, questions, chiding, either
with inarticulate sounds or with vowels or by means of simple syllables,
like pa, ta, ma, na, da, mä, mö, gö, rö [a as in father; ä as in fate; ö like i in

bird.] Since these responses are entirely, or almost entirely, lacking in
microcephali and in children born deaf, they are not purely reflexive, like
sneezing, e. g.; therefore there must be in the case of these a cerebral
operation also, simple indeed, but indubitably intellectual, interposed
between sound-perception and vocal utterance, especially as the infant
behaves differently according to what he hears, and he discriminates very
well the stern command from the caress, forbidding from allowing, in the
voice of the person speaking to him. Yet it is much more the timbre, the
accent, the pitch, the intensity of the voice and the sounds, the variation of
which excites attention, than it is the spoken word. In the first half-year the
child hears the vowels much better than he does the consonants, and will
imperfectly understand or divine the sense of a few sounds only—e. g.,
when his name is uttered in a threatening tone he will hear merely the
accented vowel, for at the first performance taught him, purposely
postponed to a very late period (in his thirteenth month), it made no
difference to my child whether we asked without changing a feature, "Wie
gross?" (how tall?) or "ooss?" or "oo?" In all three cases he answered with
the same movement of the hand.
Now, although all infants in normal condition, before they can repeat
anything after others or can understand any word whatever, express their
feelings by various sounds, even by syllables, and distinguish vowels and
many consonants in the words spoken to them, yet this does not raise them
above the intelligent animal. The response to friendly address and loud
chiding by appropriate sounds is scarcely to be distinguished as to its
psychical value from the joyous barking and whining of the poodle.
The pointer-dog's understanding of the few spoken utterances that are
impressed upon him in his training is also quite as certain at least as the
babe's understanding of the jargon of the nurse. The correctly executed
movements or arrests of movement following the sound-impressions "Setz
dich! Pfui! Zurück! Vorwärts! Allez! Fass! Apporte! Such! Verloren! Pst!
Lass! Hierher! Brav! Leid's nicht! Ruhig! Wahr Dich! Hab Acht! Was ist
das! Pfui Vogel! Pfui Hase! Halt!" prove that the bird-dog understands the
meaning of the sounds and syllables and words heard as far as he needs to
understand them. The training in the English language accomplishes the
same result with "Down! Down charge! Steady! Toho! Fetch! Hold up!" as
the training in the French language, with yet other words—so that we can

by no means assume any hereditary connection whatever between the
quality of the sound heard and the movement or arrest of movement to be
executed, such as may perhaps exist in the case of the chick just hatched
which follows the clucking of the hen. Rather does the dog learn afresh in
every case the meaning of the words required for hunting, just as the
speechless child comprehends the meaning of the first words of its future
language without being able to repeat them himself—e. g., "Give! Come!
Hand! Sh! Quiet!" Long before the child's mechanism of articulation is so
far developed that these expressions can be produced by him, the child
manifests his understanding of them unequivocally by corresponding
movements, by gestures and looks, by obedience.
No doubt this behavior varies in individual cases, inasmuch as in some few
the imitative articulation may be to some extent earlier developed than the
understanding. There are many children who even in their first year have a
monkey-like knack at imitation and repeat all sorts of things like parrots
without guessing the sense of them. Here, however, it is to be borne in mind
that such an echo-speech appears only after the first understanding of some
spoken word can be demonstrated; in no case before the fourth month.
Lindner relates that when he one day observed that his child of eighteen
weeks was gazing at the swinging pendulum of the house-clock, he went
with him to it, saying, "Tick-tack," in time with the pendulum; and when he
afterward called out to the child, who was no longer looking at the clock,
"Tick-tack!" this call was answered, at first with delay, a little later
immediately, by a turning of the look toward the clock. This proved that
there was understanding long before the first imitation of words. Progress
now became pretty rapid, so that at the end of the seventh month the
questions, "Where is your eye? ear? head? mouth? nose? the table? chair?
sofa?" were answered correctly by movements of hand and eyes. In the
tenth month this child for the first time himself used a word as a means of
effecting an understanding, viz., mama (soon afterward, indeed, he called
both parents papa). The child's inability to repeat distinctly syllables spoken
for him is not to be attributed, shortly before the time at which he succeeds
in doing it, to a purely psychical adynamy (impotence), not, as many
suppose, to "being stupid," or to a weakness of will without organic
imperfections determined by the cerebral development, for the efforts, the
attention, and the ability to repeat incorrectly, show that the will is not

wanting. Since also the peripheral impressive acoustic and expressive
phonetic paths are intact and developed, as is proved by the acuteness of the
hearing and the spontaneous formation of the very syllables desired, the
cause of the inability to repeat correctly must be solely organic-centro-
motor. The connecting paths between the sound-center and the syllable-
center, and of both these with the speech motorium, are not yet or not easily
passable; but the imitation of a single sound, be it only a, can not take place
without the mediation of the cerebral cortex. Thus in the very first attempt
to repeat something heard there exists an unquestionable advance in brain
development; and the first successful attempt of this kind proves not merely
the augmented functional ability of the articulatory apparatus and of the
sound-center, and the practicability of the impressive paths that lead from
the ear to the sound-center—it proves, above all, the establishment of
intercentral routes that lead from the sound-center and the syllable-center to
the motorium.
In fact, the correct repeating of a sound heard, of a syllable, and, finally, of
a word pronounced by another person, is the surest proof of the
establishment and practicability of the entire impressive, central, and
expressive path. It, however, proves nothing as to the understanding of the
sound or word heard and faultlessly repeated.
As the term "understanding" or "understand" is ambiguous, in so far as it
may relate to the ideal content (the meaning), and at the same time to the
mere perception of the word spoken (or written or touched)—e. g., when
any one speaks indistinctly so that we do not "understand" him—it is
advisable to restrict the use of this expression. Understand shall in future
apply only to the meaning of the word; hear—since it is simply the
perceiving of a word through the hearing that we have in view—will relate
to the sensuous impression. It is clear, then, that all children who can hear
but can not yet speak, repeat many words without understanding them, and
understand many words without being able to repeat them, as Kussmaul has
already observed. But I must add that the repeating of what is not
understood begins only after some word (even one that can not be repeated)
has been understood.
Now it is certain that the majority, if not all, of the children that have good
hearing develop the understanding more at first, since the impressive side is

practiced more and sooner than the expressive-articulatory. Probably those
that imitate early and skillfully are the children that can speak earliest, and
whose cerebrum grows fastest but also soonest ceases to grow; whereas
those that imitate later and more sparingly, generally learn to speak later,
and will generally be the more intelligent. For with the higher sort of
activity goes the greater growth of brain. While the other children cultivate
more the centro-motor portion, the sensory, the intellectual, is neglected. In
animals, likewise, a brief, rapid development of the brain is wont to go
along with inferior intelligence. The intelligence gets a better development
when the child, instead of repeating all sorts of things without any meaning,
tries to guess the meaning of what he hears. Precisely the epoch at which
this takes place belongs to the most interesting in intellectual development.
Like a pantomimist, the child, by means of his looks and gestures, and
further by cries and by movements of all sorts, gives abundant evidence of
his understanding and his desires, without himself speaking a single word.
As the adult, after having half learned a foreign language from books, can
not speak (imitate) it, and can not easily understand it when he hears it
spoken fluently by one that is a perfect master of it, but yet makes out
single expressions and understands them, and divines the meaning of the
whole, so the child at this stage can distinctly hear single words, can grasp
the purport of them, and divine correctly a whole sentence from the looks
and gestures of the speaker, although the child himself makes audible no
articulate utterance except his own, for the most part meaningless, variable
babble of sounds and syllables and outcries.
The causes of the slowness of the progress in expressing in articulate words
what is understood and desired, on the part of normal children, is not,
however, to be attributed, as it has often been, to a slower development of
the expressive motor mechanism, but must be looked for in the difficulty of
establishing the connection of the various central storehouses of sense-
impressions with the intercentral path of connection between the acoustic
speech-centers and the speech-motorium. For the purely peripheral
articulatory acts are long since perfect, although as yet a simple "a" or "pa"
can not be repeated after another person; for these and other sounds and
syllables are already uttered correctly by the child himself.
The order of succession in which these separate sounds appear, without
instruction, is very different in individual cases. With my boy, who learned

to speak rather late, and was not occupied with learning by heart, the
following was the order of the perfectly pure sounds heard by me:
On the left are the sounds or syllables indicated by one letter; on the right,
the same indicated by more than one letter; and it is to be borne in mind that
the child needs to pronounce only fourteen of the nineteen so-called
consonants of the German alphabet in order to master the remaining five
also; for

c = ts and k
v = f and w
x = ks and gs
q = ku and kw
z = ts and ds

and of the fourteen four require no new articulation, because

p is a toneless b
t is a toneless d
f is a toneless w
k is a toneless g

Of the ten positions of the mouth required for all the consonants of the
alphabet, nine are taken by the child within the first six months:*
Months.
1. Indefinite uä
vowels;ä u,
2. a, ö, o; m, am, ma, ta, hu, ör, rö, ar, ra, gö.
g, r, t; h,
3. i; b, l, n, ua, oa, ao, ai, e͡ i, oä, äo, äa, äö; öm, in,
ab, om; la, ho, mö, nä, na, ha, bu; ng, mb,
gr.
4. e, ä͡u, a-u, aö, ea; an; na, tö, la, me; nt.
5. ü (y); k, ag, eg, ek, ge, kö.
6. j; the lingual- oi (e͡ u, ä͡u), io, öe, eu (French); ij, aj, ög,
labial sound, ich; ja, jä; rg, br, ch.

7. d, p, ;e, ui; mä.
8. eö, aë, ou, a͡ u; up; hö, mi, te.
9. ap, ach, äm; pa, ga, cha.
10. el, ab, at, ät; dä, ba, ta, tä; nd.
11. ad, al, ak, er, ej, öd; da, gä, bä, ka, ke, je,
he, ne; pr, tr.
12. w, än, op, ew, är; de, wä; nj, ld.
13. s (ss), en; hi; dn.
14. mu; kn, gn, kt.
15. z, oö, öa, is, iss, es, ass, th (English), ith
(Engl.), it; hä,
di, wa, sse.
16. f (v), ok, on; do, go; bw, fp.
17. ib, öt, an; bi.
18. äi, iä; äp, im; tu, pä; ft.
19. ön, et, es; sa, be; st, tth (Engl.), s-ch, sj.
20. ub, ot, id, od, oj, uf, ät; bo, ro, jo; dj, dth
(Engl.).
21. öp; fe; rl, dl, nk, pt.
22. ol; lo; ps, pt, tl, sch, tsch, pth (Engl.).
23. q, uo; id, op, um, em, us, un, ow, ed, uk, ig,
il; jö, ju,
po, mo, wo, fa, fo, fi, we, ku (qu), li, ti;
tn, pf, gch,
gj, tj, schg.
24. ut, esch; pu, wi, schi, pi.
25. oë, ul, il, och, iw, ip, ur; lt, rb, rt.
26. nl, ds, mp, rm, fl, kl, nch, ml, dr.
27. x, kch, cht, lch, ls, sw, sl.
*Pronounce the letters in the tabular view as in German.
Every such chronological view of the sequence of sounds is uncertain,
because we can not observe the child uninterruptedly, and hence the first
appearance of a new sound easily escapes notice. The above synopsis has a
chronological value only so far as this, that it announces, concerning every

single sound, that such sound was heard in its purity by me at least as early
as the given month. The sound may, however, have been uttered
considerably earlier without my hearing it. I know from personal experience
that in other children many sounds appear much earlier; in my child, e. g.,
ngä was observed too late, and I have no doubt that the first utterance of f
and w was unobserved, although I was on the lookout for them. When it is
maintained, on the contrary, that m is not heard from a normal child until
the tenth month, then the am and mö which appear universally in the first
half-year have escaped notice. Earlier tabular views of this sort, which have
even served as a foundation for instruction of deaf-mutes in speaking, do
not rest exclusively on observation. Besides, in this matter, even two
children hardly agree. According to my observations, I am compelled in
spite of this disagreement to lay down the proposition as valid for all
healthy children, that the greatly preponderating majority of the sounds the
child makes use of after learning verbal language, and many other sounds
besides these, are correctly formed by him within the first eight months, not
intentionally, but just as much at random as any other utterance of sound
not to be used later in speech, not appearing in any civilized language. I will
only mention as an example the labio-lingual explosive sound, in which the
tip of the tongue comes between the lips and, with an expiration, bursting
from its confinement is drawn back swiftly (with or without tone). All
children seem to like to form this sound, a sound between p, b, and t, d; but
it exists in few languages.
Among the innumerable superfluous, unintentional, random, muscular
movements of the infant, the movements of the muscles of the larynx,
mouth, and tongue take a conspicuous place, because they ally themselves
readily with acoustic effects and the child takes delight in them. It is not
surprising, therefore, that precisely those vibrations of the vocal cords,
precisely those shapings of the cavity of the mouth, and those positions of
the lips, often occur which we observe in the utterance of our vowels, and
that among the child-noises produced unconsciously and in play are found
almost all our consonants and, besides, many that are used in foreign
languages. The plasticity of the apparatus of speech in youth permits the
production of a greater abundance of sounds and sound-combinations than
is employed later, and not a single child has been observed who has, in
accordance with the principle of the least effort (principe du moindre effort)

applied by French authors to this province, advanced in regular sequence
from the sounds articulated easily—i. e., with less activity of will—to the
physiologically difficult; rather does it hold good for all the children I have
observed, and probably for all children that learn to speak, that many of the
sounds uttered by them at the beginning, in the speechless season of
infancy, without effort and then forgotten, have to be learned afresh at a
later period, have to be painstakingly acquired by means of imitation.
Mobility and perfection in the technique of sound-formation are not speech.
They come into consideration in the process of learning to speak as
facilitating the process, because the muscles are perfected by previous
practice; but the very first attempts to imitate voluntarily a sound heard
show how slight this advantage is. Even those primitive syllables which the
child of himself often pronounces to weariness, like da, he can not at the
beginning (in the tenth month in my case) as yet say after any one, although
he makes manifest by his effort—a regular strain—by his attention, and his
unsuccessful attempts, that he would like to say them, as I have already
mentioned. The reason is to be looked for in the still incomplete
development of the sensori-motor central paths. In place of tatta is sounded
tä or ata; in place of papa even taï, and this not once only, but after a great
many trials repeated again and again with the utmost patience. That the
sound-image has been correctly apprehended is evident from the certainty
with which the child responds correctly in various cases by gestures to
words of similar sound unpronounceable by him. Thus, he points by
mistake once only to the mouth (Mund) instead of the moon (Mond), and
points correctly to the ear (Ohr) and the clock (Uhr) when asked where
these objects are. The acuteness of hearing indispensable for repeating the
sounds is therefore present before the ability to repeat.
On the whole, the infant or the young child already weaned must be placed
higher at this stage of his mental development than a very intelligent
animal, but not on account of his knowledge of language, for the dog also
understands very well single words in the speech of his master, in addition
to hunting-terms. He divines, from the master's looks and gestures, the
meaning of whole sentences, and, although he has not been brought to the
point of producing articulate sounds, yet much superior in this respect is the
performance of the cockatoo, which learns all articulate sounds. A child
who shows by looks and gestures and actions that he understands single

words, and who already pronounces correctly many words by imitation
without understanding them, does not on this account stand higher
intellectually than a sagaciously calculating yet speechless elephant or an
Arabian horse, but because he already forms many more and far more
complex concepts.
The animal phase of intellect lasts, in the sound, vigorous, and not
neglected child, to the end of the first year of life at the farthest; and long
before the close of this he has, by means of the feelings of pleasure and of
discomfort, very definitely distinguishable by him even in the first days of
life, but for which he does not get the verbal expressions till the second and
third year, formed for himself at least in one province, viz., that of food,
ideas more or less well defined. Romanes also rightly remarks that the
concept of food arises in us through the feeling of hunger quite
independently of language. Probably this concept is the very first that is
formed by the quite young infant, only he would not name it "food," if
indeed he named it at all, but would understand by it everything that puts an
end to the feeling of hunger. It is of great importance to hold firmly to this
fact of the origination of ideas, and that not of sensuous percepts only but of
concepts, without language, because it runs contrary to prevailing
assumptions.
He who has conscientiously observed the mental development of infants
must come to the conclusion that the formation of ideas is not bound up
with the learning of words, but is a necessary prerequisite for the
understanding of the words to be learned first, and therefore for learning to
speak. Long before the child understands even a single word, before he uses
a single syllable consistently with a definite meaning, he already has a
number of ideas which are expressed by looks and gestures and cries. To
these belong especially ideas gained through touch and sight. Associations
of objects touched and seen with impressions of taste are probably the first
generators of concepts. The child, still speechless and toothless, takes a
lively interest in bottles; sees, e. g., a bottle that is filled with a white
opaque liquid (Goulard water), and he stretches out his arms with desire
toward it, screaming a long time, in the belief that it is a milk-bottle
(observed by me in the case of my child in the thirty-first week). The bottle
when empty or when filled with water is not so long attractive to him, so
that the idea of food (or of something to drink, something to suck,

something sweet) must arise from the sight of a bottle with certain contents
without the understanding or even utterance of any words. The formation of
concepts without words is actually demonstrated by this; for the speechless
child not only perceived the points of identity of the various bottles of wine,
water, oil, the nursing-bottle and others, the sight of which excited him, but
he united in one notion the contents of the different sorts of bottles when
what was in them was white—i. e., he had separated the concept of food
from that of the bottle. Ideas are thus independent of words.
Certain as this proposition is, it is not, however, supported by the reasons
given for it by Kussmaul, viz., that one and the same object is variously
expressed in various languages, and that a new animal or a new machine is
known before it is named; for no one desires to maintain that certain ideas
are necessarily connected with certain words, without the knowledge of
which they could not arise—it is maintained only that ideas do not exist
without words. Now, any object has some appellation in each language,
were it only the appellation "object," and a new animal, a new machine, is
already called "animal," "machine," before it receives its special name.
Hence from this quarter the proof can not be derived. On the other hand, the
speechless infant certainly furnishes the proof, which is confirmed by some
observations on microcephalous persons several years old or of adult age.
The lack of the power of abstraction apparent in these persons and in idiots
is not so great that they have not developed the notion "food" or "taking of
food."
Indeed, it is not impossible that the formation of ideas may continue after
the total loss of word-memory, as in the remarkable and much-talked-of
case of Lordat. Yet this case does not by any means prove that the formation
of concepts of the higher order is possible without previous mastery of
verbal language; rather is it certain that concepts rising above the lowest
abstractions can be formed only by him who has thoroughly learned to
speak: for intelligent children without speech are acquainted, indeed, with
more numerous and more complex ideas than are very sagacious animals,
but not with many more abstractions of a higher sort, and where the
vocabulary is small the power of abstraction is wont to be as weak in adults
as in children. The latter, to be sure, acquire the words for the abstract with
more difficulty and later than those for the concrete, but have them stamped
more firmly on the mind (for, when the word-memory fails, proper names

and nouns denoting concrete objects are, as a rule, first forgotten). But it
would not be admissible, as I showed above, to conclude from this that no
abstraction at all takes place without words. To me, indeed, it is probable
that in the most intense thought the most abstract conceptions are effected
most rapidly without the disturbing images of the sounds of words, and are
only supplementarily clothed in words. In any case the intelligent child
forms many concepts of a lower sort without any knowledge of words at all,
and he therefore performs abstraction without words.
When Sigismund showed to his son, not yet a year old and not able to speak
a word, a stuffed woodcock, and, pointing to it, said, "Bird," the child
directly afterward looked toward another side of the room where there stood
upon the stove a stuffed white owl, represented as in flight, which he must
certainly have observed before. Here, then, the concept had already arisen;
but how little specialized are the first concepts connected with words that
do not relate to food is shown by the fact that in the case of Lindner's child
(in the tenth month) up signified also down, warm signified also cold. Just
so my child used too much also for too little; another child used no also for
yes; a third used I for you. If these by no means isolated phenomena rest
upon a lack of differentiation of the concepts, "then the child already has a
presentiment that opposites are merely the extreme terms of the same series
of conceptions" (Lindner), and this before he can command more than a
few words.
But to return to the condition of the normal child, as yet entirely speechless.
It is clear that, being filled with desire to give expression in every way to
his feelings, especially to his needs, he will use his voice, too, for this
purpose. The adult likewise cries out with pain, although the "Oh!" has no
direct connection with the pain, and there is no intention of making, by
means of the outcry, communication to others. Now, before the newly-born
is in condition to seek that which excites pleasure, to avoid what excites
displeasure, he cries out in like fashion, partly without moving the tongue,
partly with the sound ä dominant, repeated over and over monotonously till
some change of external conditions takes place. After this the manner of
crying begins to vary according to the condition of the infant; then come
sounds clearly distinguishable as indications of pleasure or displeasure; then
syllables, at first to some extent spontaneously articulated without meaning,
afterward such as express desire, pleasure, etc.; not until much later

imitated sounds, and often the imperfect imitation of the voices of animals,
of inorganic noises, and of spoken words. The mutilation of his words
makes it seem as if the child were already inventing new designations
which are soon forgotten; and as the child, like the lunatic, uses familiar
words in a new sense after he has begun to learn to talk, his style of
expression gets an original character, that of "baby-talk." Here it is
characteristic that the feelings and ideas do not now first arise, though they
are now first articulately expressed; but they were in part present long since
and did not become articulate, but were expressed by means of looks and
gestures. In the adult ideas generate new words, and the formation of new
words does not cease so long as thinking continues; but in the child without
speech new feelings and new ideas generate at first only new cries and
movements of the muscles of the face and limbs, and, the further we look
back into child-development proper, the greater do we find the number of
the conditions expressed by one and the same cry. The organism as yet has
too few means at its disposal. In many cases of aphasia every mental state is
expressed by one and the same word (often a word without meaning). Upon
closer examination it is found, however, that for the orator also, who is
complete master of speech, all the resources of language are insufficient.
No one, e. g., can name all the colors that may be perceived, or describe
pain, or describe even a cloud, so that several hearers gain the same idea of
its form that the speaker has. The words come short, but the idea is clear. If
words sufficed to express clearly clear conceptions, then the greater part of
our philosophical and theological literature would not exist. This literature
has its basis essentially in the inevitable fact that different persons do not
associate the same concept with the same word, and so one word is used to
indicate different concepts (as is the case with the child). If a concept is
exceptionally difficult—i. e., exceptionally hard to express clearly in words
—then it is wont to receive many names, e. g., "die," and the confusion and
strife are increased; but words alone render it possible to form and to make
clear concepts of a higher sort. They favor the formation of new ideas, and
without them the intellect in man remains in a lower stage of development
just because they are the most trustworthy and the most delicate means of
expression for ideas. If ideas are not expressed at all, or not intelligibly,
their possessor can not use them, can not correct or make them effective.
Those ideas only are of value, as a general thing, which continue to exist
after being communicated to others. Communication takes place with

accuracy (among human beings) only by means of words. It is therefore
important to know how the child learns to speak words, and then to use
them.
I have above designated, as the chief difficulty for the child in the formation
of words, the establishment of a connection between the central storehouse
for sense-impressions—i. e., the sensory centers of higher rank—with the
intercentral path of connection between the center-for-sounds and the
speech-motorium. After the establishment of these connections, and long
after ideas have been formed, the sound-image of the word spoken by the
mother, when it emerges in the center-for-sounds directly after the rise of a
clear idea, is now repeated by the child accurately, or, in case it offers
insurmountable difficulties of articulation for pronunciation, inaccurately.
This fact of sound-imitation is fundamental. Beyond it we can not go.
Especially must be noted here as essential that it appears to be an entirely
indifferent matter what syllables and words are employed for the first
designation of the child's ideas. Were one disposed to provide the child with
false designations, he could easily do it. The child would still connect them
logically. If taught further on that two times three are five, he would merely
give the name five to what is six, and would soon adopt the usual form of
expression. In making a beginning of the association of ideas with articulate
syllables, such syllables are, as a rule, employed (probably in all languages)
as have already been often uttered by the child spontaneously without
meaning, because these offered no difficulties of articulation; but only the
child's family put meaning into them. Such syllables are pa, ma, with their
doubled form papa, mama, for "father" and "mother," in connection with
which it is to be observed that the meaning of them is different in different
languages and even in the dialects of a language. For mamán, mamá, máma,
mamme, mammeli, mömme, mam, mamma, mammeken, memme,
memmeken, mammĕlĕ, mammi, are at the same time child-words and
designations for "mother" in various districts of Germany, whereas these
and very similar expressions signify also the mother's breast, milk, pap,
drink, nursing-bottle; nay, even in some languages the father is designated
by Ma-sounds, the mother by Ba-and Pa-sounds.
It is very much the same with other primitive syllables of the babe's
utterance, e. g., atta. Where this does not denote the parents or grandparents

it is frequently used (táta, tatta, tatá, also in England and Germany) in the
sense of "gone" ("fort") and "goodby."
These primitive syllables, pa-pa, ma-ma, tata and apa, ama, ata, originate
of themselves when in the expiration of breath the passage is stopped either
by the lips (p, m) or by the tongue (d, t); but after they have been already
uttered many times with ease, without meaning, at random, the mothers of
all nations make use of them to designate previously existing ideas of the
child, and designate by them what is most familiar. Hence occurs the
apparent confounding of "milk" and "breast" and "mother" and "(wet-)
nurse" or "nurse" and "bottle," all of which the child learns to call mam,
amma, etc.
But just at this period appears a genuine echolalia, the child, unobserved,
repeating correctly and like a machine, often in a whisper, all sorts of
syllables, when he hears them at the end of a sentence. The normal child,
before he can speak, repeats sounds, syllables, words, if they are short,
"mechanically," without understanding, as he imitates movements of the
hands and the head that are made in his sight. Speaking is a movement-
making that invites imitation the more because it can be strictly regulated
by means of the ear. Anything more than regulation is not at first given by
the sense of hearing, for those born deaf also learn to speak. They can even,
like normal children, speak quite early in dreams (according to Gerard van
Asch). Those born deaf, as well as normal children, when one turns quietly
toward them, often observe attentively the lips (and also touch them
sometimes) and the tongue of the person speaking; and this visual image,
even without an auditory image, provokes imitation, which is made perfect
by the combination of the two. This combination is lacking in the child born
blind, pure echolalia prevailing in this case; in the one born deaf, the
combination is likewise wanting, the reading-off of the syllables from the
mouth coming in as a substitute. With the deaf infant the study of the
mouth-movements is, as is well known, the only means of understanding
words spoken aloud, and it is sight that serves almost exclusively for this,
very rarely touch; and the child born deaf often repeats the visible
movements of lips and tongue better than the hearing child that can not yet
talk. It is to be observed, in general, that the hearing child makes less use,
on the whole, of the means of reading-off from the mouth than we assume,
but depends chiefly on the ear. I have always found, too, that the child has

the greatest difficulty in imitating a position of the mouth, in case the sound
belonging to it is not made, whereas he easily achieves the same position of
the mouth when the acoustic effect goes along with it.
Accordingly, the connection between the ear and the speech-center must be
shorter or more practicable in advance (hereditarily) than that between the
eye and the speech-center. With regard to both associations, however, the
gradually progressive shortening or consolidating is to be distinguished in
space and time. With the child that does not yet speak, but is beginning to
repeat syllables correctly and to associate them with primitive ideas, the act
of imitation takes longer than with the normal adult, but the paths in the
brain that he makes use of are shorter, absolutely and relatively—
absolutely, because the whole brain is smaller; relatively, because the higher
centers, which at a later period perform their functions with consciousness
and accessory ideas, are still lacking. Notwithstanding this, the time is
longer than at a later period—often amounting to several seconds—because
the working up of what has been heard, and even the arrangement of it in
the center for sound-images, and of what has been seen in the center for
sight-images, takes more time apart from a somewhat less swift propagation
of the nerve-excitement in the peripheral paths. The child's imitation can
not be called fully conscious or deliberate. It resembles the half-conscious
or unconscious imitation attained by the adult through frequent repetition—
i. e., through manifold practice—and which, as a sort of reminiscence of
conscious or an abbreviation of deliberate imitation, results from frequent
continuous use of the same paths. Only, the child's imitations last longer,
and especially the reading-off from the mouth. The child can not distinguish
the positions of the mouth that belong to a syllable, but can produce them
himself very correctly. He is like the patients that Kussmaul calls "word-
blind," who can not, in spite of good sight, read the written words they see,
but can express them in speech and writing. For the same word, e. g., atta,
which the child does not read off from the mouth and does not repeat, he
uses himself when he wants to be taken out; thus the inability is not
expressive-motor, but central or intercentral. For the child can already see
very well the movement of mouth and tongue; the impressive sight-path has
been long established.
Herein this sort of word-blindness agrees fully with the physiological word-
deafness of the normal child without speech, whose hearing is good. For he

understands wrongly what he hears, when, e. g., in response to the order,
"No! no!" he makes the affirmative movement of the head, although he can
make the right movement very well. Here too, then, it is not centrifugal and
centripetal peripheral lines, but intercentral paths or centers, that are not yet
sufficiently developed—in the case of my child, in the fourteenth month.
The path leading from the word-center to the dictorium, and the word-
center itself, must have been as yet too little used.
From all this it results, in relation to the question, how the child comes to
learn and to use words, that in the first place he has ideas; secondly, he
imitates sounds, syllables, and words spoken for him; and, thirdly, he
associates the ideas with these. e. g., the idea "white+wet+sweet+warm"
having arisen out of frequent seeing, feeling, and tasting of milk, it depends
upon what primitive syllable is selected for questioning the hungry infant,
for talking to him, or quieting him, whether he expresses his desire for food
by möm, mimi, nana, ning, or maman, or mäm, or mem, or mima, or yet
other syllables. The oftener he has the idea of food (i. e., something that
banishes hunger or the unpleasant feeling of it), and at the same time the
sound-impression "milk," so much the more will the latter be associated
with the former, and in consideration of the great advantages it offers, in
being understood by all, will finally be adopted. Thus the child learns his
first words. But in each individual case the first words acquired in this
manner have a wider range of meaning than the later ones.
By means of pure echolalia, without associating ideas with the word
babbled in imitation, the child learns, to be sure, to articulate words
likewise; but he does not learn to understand them or to use them properly
unless coincidences, intentional or accidental, show him this or that result
when this or that word is uttered by him. If the child, e. g., hearing the new
word "Schnee," says, as an echo, nee, and then some one shows him actual
snow, the meaningless nee becomes associated with a sense-intuition; and
later, also, nothing can take the place of the intuition—i. e., the direct,
sensuous perception—as a means of instruction. This way of learning the
use of words is exactly the opposite of that just discussed, and is less
common because more laborious. For, in the first case, the idea is first
present, and only needs to be expressed (through hearing the appropriate
word). In the second case, the word comes first, and the idea has to be

brought in artificially. Later, the word, not understood, awakens curiosity,
and thereby generates ideas. But this requires greater maturity.
The third way in which the first words are learned is this: The idea and the
word appear almost simultaneously, as in onomatopoetic designations and
interjections. Absolutely original onomatopoetic words are very rare with
children, and have not been observed by me except after the children
already knew some words. The names of animals, bow-wow, moo-moo,
peep-peep (bird), hotto (horse), from the expression of the carter, "hott-ho"
("tt," instead of Haut (the skin), i. e., "left," in contrast with "aarr"—Haar,
Mähne (the mane)—i. e., "right"), are spoken for the child by the members
of his family. Some names of animals, like kukuk (cuckoo), also kikeriki
(cock) and kuak (duck, frog), are probably formed often without having
been heard from others, only more indistinctly, by German, English
(American), and French children. Ticktack (tick-tick) has also been repeated
by a boy of two years for a watch. On the other hand, weo-weo-weo
(German, ŭio) for the noise of winding a watch (observed by Holden in a
boy of two years) is original. Hüt, as an unsuccessful imitation of the
locomotive-whistle by my boy of two and a half years, seems also
noteworthy as an onomatope independently invented, because it was used
daily for months in the same way merely to designate the whistle. The voice
of the hen, of the redstart, the creaking of a wheel, were imitated by my
child of his own accord long before he could speak a word. But this did not
go so far as the framing of syllables. It is not easy in this to trace so clearly
the framing of a concept as attaching itself directly to onomatopoetic forms
as it is in a case communicated by Romanes. A child that was beginning to
talk, saw and heard a duck on the water, and said quack. Thereafter the
child called, on the one hand, all birds and insects, on the other hand, all
liquids, quack. Finally, it called all coins also quack, after having seen an
eagle on a French sou. Thus the child came, by gradual generalization, to
the point of designating a fly, wine, and a piece of money by the same
onomatopoetic word, although only the first perception contained the
characteristic that gave the name.
Another case is reported by Eduard Schulte: A boy of a year and three
quarters applied the joyous outcry ei (which may be an imitated
interjection), modifying it first into eiz, into aze, and then into ass, to his
wooden goat on wheels, and covered with rough hide; eiz, then, became

exclusively a cry of joy; ass, the name for everything that moved along—
e. g., for animals and his own sister and the wagon; also for everything that
moved at all; finally, for everything that had a rough surface. Now, as this
child already called all coverings of the head and covers of cans huta, when
he saw, for the first time, a fur cap, he at once christened it ass-huta. Here
took place a decided subordination of one concept to another, and therewith
a new formation of a word. How broad the comprehensiveness of the
concept designated huta was, is perceived especially in this, that it was used
to express the wish to have objects at which the child pointed. He liked to
put all sorts of things that pleased him upon his head, calling them huta.
Out of the huta, for "I should like to have that as a hat" grew, then, after
frequent repetition, "I should like that." There was in this case an extension
of the narrower concept, after it had itself experienced previously a
differentiation, and so a limitation, by means of the suffix ass. These
examples show how independent of words the formation of concepts is.
With the smallest stock of words the concepts are yet manifold, and are
designated by the same word when there is a lack of words for the
composition of new words, and so for fresh word-formation.
The formation of words out of interjections without imitation has not been
observed. Here belongs the rollu, rollolo, uttered by my boy, of his own
accord, on seeing rolling balls or wheels; and (in the twentieth month) rodi,
otto, rojo, where the rotation perceived by the child occasions at once the
one or the other exclamation containing l or r. In the case of Steinthal, it
was lu-lulu; in the case of a boy a year and a half old, observed by
Kussmaul, it was golloh. In these cases the first interjection is always
occasioned by a noise, not simply by the sight of things rolling without
noise. The interjection must accordingly be styled imitative. A combination
of the original—i. e., inborn—interjectional sounds into syllables and
groups of syllables, without the assistance of members of the family, and
without imitation, for the purpose of communicating an idea, is not proved
to exist.
On the whole, the way in which the child learns to speak not merely
resembles the way in which he learns at a later period to write, but is
essentially completely in accord with it. Here, too, he makes no new
inventions. First are drawn strokes and blurs without meaning; then certain
strokes are imitated; then signs of sounds. These can not be at once

combined into syllables, and even after the combination has been achieved
and the written word can be made from the syllables it is not yet
understood. Yet the child could see, even before the first instruction in
writing or the first attempt at scribbling, every individual letter in the
dimensions in which he writes it later. So, too, the speechless child hears
every sound before he understands syllables and words, and he understands
them before he can speak them. The child commonly learns reading before
writing, and so understands the sign he is to write before he can write it. Yet
the sign written by himself is often just as unintelligible to him as the word
he himself speaks. The analogy is perfect.
If the first germs of words, after ideas have begun to become clear by
means of keener perception, are once formed, then the child fashions them
of his own effort, and this often with surprising distinctness; but in the
majority of cases the words are mutilated. In the first category belongs the
comparative hocher for höher in the sentence hocher bauen (build higher)!
(in the third year uttered as a request when playing with building-stones).
The understanding of the comparative is plainly manifest in this. When,
therefore, the same child in his fifth year, to the improper question, "Whom
do you like better, papa or mamma?" answers, "Papa and mamma," we
should not infer a lack of that understanding, as many do (e. g., Heyfelder);
but the decision is impossible to the child. Just so in the case of the
question, "Would you rather have the apple or the pear?"
Other inventions of my child were the verb messen for "mit dem Messer
schneiden" (to cut with the knife); schiffern, i. e., "das Schiff bewegen"
(move the ship), for "rudern," (row). And the preference of the weak
inflection on the part of all children is a proof that after the appropriation of
a small number of words through imitation, independent—always logical—
changes of formation are undertaken. Gegebt, gegeht, getrinkt (gived, goed,
drinked), have never been heard by the child; but "gewebt, geweht,
gewinkt" (as in English, waved, wafted, beckoned), have been known to
him as models (or other formations corresponding to these). Yet this is by
no means to say that every mutilation or transformation the child proposes
is a copy after an erroneously selected model; rather the child's imagination
has a wide field here and acts in manifold fashion, especially by
combinations. "My teeth-roof pains me," said a boy who did not yet know
the word "palate." Another in his fourth year called the road (Weg) the "go"

(Gehe). A child of three years used the expression, "Just grow me" (wachs
mich einmal) for "Just see how I have grown" (Sieh einmal wie ich
gewachsen bin) (Lindner). Such creations of the childish faculty of
combination, arising partly through blending, partly through transference,
are collected in a neat pamphlet, "Zur Philosophie der Kindersprache," by
Agathon Keber, 1868. The most of them, however, are from a later time of
life than that here treated of. So it is with the two "heretical" utterances
communicated by Rösch. A child said unterblatte (under-leaf) for "Oblate,"
because he saw the wafer (Oblate) slipped under the leaf of paper (Blatt);
and he called the "American chair," "Herr-Decaner-chair," because
somebody who was called "Herr Decan" used to sit in it. Here may be seen
the endeavor to put into the acoustic impression not understood a meaning.
These expressions are not inventions, but they are evidence of intellect.
They can not, of course, appear in younger children without knowledge of
words, because they are transformations of words.
On the other hand it is of the greatest importance for the understanding of
the first stage of the use of words in their real significance, after the
acquirement of them has once begun, to observe how many different ideas
the child announces by one and the same verbal expression. Here are some
examples: Tuhl (for Stuhl, chair) signifies—1. "My chair is gone"; 2. "The
chair is broken"; 3. "I want to be lifted into the chair"; 4. "Here is a chair."
The child (Steinthal's) says (in the twenty-second month), when he sees or
hears a barking dog, bellt (barks), and thinks he has by that word designated
the whole complex phenomenon, the sight-perception of the dog and of a
particular dog, and the sound-perception; but he says bellt also when he
merely hears the dog. No doubt the memory-image of the dog he has seen is
then revived for him.
Through this manifold significance of a word, which is a substitute for a
whole sentence, is exhibited a much higher activity of the intellect than
appears in the mutilation and new formation of words having but one
meaning to designate a sense-impression, for, although in the latter is
manifested the union of impressions into perceptions and also of qualities
into concepts, wherein an unconscious judgment is involved, yet a clear
judgment is not necessarily connected with them. The union of concepts
into conscious clear judgments is recognized rather in the formation of a

sentence, no matter whether this is expressed by one word or by several
words.
In connection with this an error must be corrected that is wide-spread. It
consists in the assumption that all children begin to speak with nouns, and
that these are followed by verbs. This is by no means the case. The child
daily observed by me used an adjective for the first time in the twenty-third
month in order to express a judgment, the first one expressed in the
language of those about him. He said "hot" for "The milk is too hot." In
general, the appropriation and employment of words for the first formation
of sentences depends, in the first instance, upon the action of the adults in
the company of the child. A good example of this is furnished by an
observation of Lindner, whose daughter in her fourteenth month first
begged with her hands for a piece of apple, upon which the word "apple"
was distinctly pronounced to her. After she had eaten the apple she repeated
the request, re-enforcing her gesture this time by the imitated sound appn,
and her request was again granted. Evidently encouraged by her success,
the child from that time on used appn for "eat, I want to eat," as a sign of
her desire to eat in general, because those about her "accepted this
signification and took the word stamped by her upon this concept for
current coin, else it would very likely have been lost." This also confirms
my statement (p. 85) that a child easily learns to speak with logical
correctness with wrong words. He also speaks like the deaf-mute with
logical correctness with quite a different arrangement of words from that of
his speech of a later period. Thus the child just mentioned, in whom "the
inclination to form sentences was manifest from the twenty-second month,"
said, "hat die Olga getrinkt," when she had drunk!
But every child learns at first not only the language of those in whose
immediate daily companionship he grows up, but also at first the
peculiarities of these persons. He imitates the accent, intonation, dialect, as
well as the word, so that a Thuringian child may be surely distinguished
from a Mecklenburg child even in the second and third year, and, at the
same time, we may recognize the peculiarities of the speech of its mother or
nurse, with whom it has most intercourse. This phenomenon, the
persistence of dialects and of peculiarities of speech in single families,
gives the impression, on a superficial observation, of being something
inherited; whereas, in fact, nothing is inherited beyond the voice through

inheritance of the organic peculiarities of the mechanism of phonation. For
everything else completely disappears when a child learns to speak from his
birth in a foreign community.
Hereditary we may, indeed, call the characteristic of humanity, speech;
hereditary, also, is articulation in man, and the faculty of acquiring any
articulate language is innate. But beyond this the tribal influence does not
reach. If the possibility of learning to speak words phonetically is wanting
because ear or tongue refuses, then another language comes in as a
substitute—that of looks, gestures, writing, tactile images—then not Broca's
center, but another one is generated. So that the question whether a speech-
center already exists in the alalic child must be answered in the negative;
the center is formed only when the child hears speech, and, if he does not
hear speech, no center is developed. In this case the ganglionic cells of the
posterior third of the third frontal convolution are otherwise employed, or
they suffer atrophy. In learning to speak, on the contrary, there is a
continuous development, first of the sound-center, then of the syllable-
center, then of the word-center and the dictorium. The brain grows through
its own activity.

CHAPTER XVIII.

FIRST SOUNDS AND BEGINNINGS OF SPEECH IN THE
CASE
OF A CHILD OBSERVED DAILY DURING HIS FIRST
THREE YEARS.

The observations bearing upon the acquirement of speech recorded by me
in the case of my boy from the day of his birth, the 23d of November, 1877,
are here presented, so far as they appear worthy of being communicated, in
chronological order. They are intended to serve as authenticated documents.
The points to which the attention is to be directed in these observations are
determined by the organic conditions of the acquirement of speech, which
have been treated previously. First, the expressive processes, next the
impressive, last the central processes, claim the attention. (1) To the
expressive beginnings of speech belongs the sum total of the inarticulate
sounds—crying, whimpering, grunting, cooing, squealing, crowing,
laughing, shouting (for joy), modulation of the voice, smacking, and many
others, but also the silent movement of the tongue; further, articulation,
especially before imitation begins; the formation of sound, and so the
gradual perfecting of the vowels, aspirates, and consonants; at the same
time the forming of syllables. The last is especially easy to follow in the
babbling monologues of the infant, which are often very long. The
reduplication of syllables, accentuation, and inflection, whispering, singing,
etc., belong likewise here. (2) The impressive processes are discerned in the
looks and gestures of the child as yet speechless; later, the ability to
discriminate in regard to words and noises, and the connection of the ear
with the speech-center, are discerned in the first imitations of sounds and in
the repeating after others—i. e., in word-imitation. Here belong also the
onomatopoetic attempts of children, which are simply a sort of imitation.
Later, are added to these the answers to simple spoken questions, these

answers being partly interjectional, partly articulate, joined into syllables,
words, and then sentences. The understanding of words heard is announced
especially by the first listening, by the association of certain movements
with certain sound-impressions, and of motionless objects with other sound-
impressions, before speaking begins. Hereby (3) the central processes are
already shown to be in existence. The childish logic, especially induction
from too few particulars, the mutilation of words reproduced, the wrong
applications of expressions correctly repeated, the confounding of opposites
in the verbal designation of concepts of the child's own formation, offer an
abundance of noteworthy facts for the genesis of mind. Moreover, the
memory for sounds and words, the imagination, especially in filling out, as
well as the first acts of judging, the forming of propositions, questioning—
all these are to be considered. As for the order in which the separate classes
of words appear, the training in learning-by-heart, speculations as to which
spoken word is first perfectly understood, to these matters I have paid less
attention, for the reason that here the differences in the child's surroundings
exert the greatest influence. My report must, in any event, as a rough draft
of the history of the development of language in the child, be very
imperfect. It, however, contains nothing but perfectly trustworthy matter of
my own observation.
During the first weeks the child often cried long and vigorously from
discomfort. If one were to try to represent by written vowels the screaming
sounds, these would most nearly resemble, in the majority of cases, a short
u (oo in book), with a very quickly following prolonged ä (ai in fair); thus,
uä, uä, uä, uä, were the first sounds that may be approximately expressed.
They were uttered after the lapse of five months exactly as at the beginning,
only more vigorously. All the other vowel-sounds were at first undefined.
Notwithstanding this uniformity in the vowel-sounds, the sounds of the
voice are so varied, even within the first five weeks, that it may be told with
certainty from these alone whether the child feels hunger or pain or
pleasure. Screaming with the eyes firmly closed in hunger, whimpering in
slight indisposition, laughing at bright objects in motion, the peculiar
grunting sounds which at a later period are joined with abdominal pressure
and with lively arm-movements, as the announcement of completed
digestion and of wetness (retained for the first of these states even into the
seventeenth month), are manifold acoustic expressions of vitality, and are to

be looked upon as the first forerunners of future oral communication, in
contrast with the loud-sounding reflex movements of sneezing and of
hiccough, and with the infrequent snoring, snuffling (in sucking), and other
loud expirations observed in the first days, which have just as little
linguistic value as have coughing and the later clearing of the throat.
The voice is very powerful as early as the sixth day, especially when it
announces feelings of discomfort. Screaming is much more frequent,
persistent, and vigorous also when diluted cow's milk is given instead of
that from the breast. If one occupies himself longer than usual with the
infant (in the first two months), the child is afterward more inclined to cry,
and cries then (as in the case of hunger) quite differently from what he does
when giving notice of something unpleasant—e. g., wetness. Directly upon
his being made dry, the crying ceases, as now a certain contentment is
attained. On the other hand, the inclination to cry serves very early
(certainly from the tenth week on) as a sign of well-being (or increase in the
growth of the muscles). At least a prolonged silence at this season is wont to
be connected with slight ailment. But it is to be remarked that during the
whole period no serious illness, lasting more than one day, occurred.
On the forty-third day I heard the first consonant. The child, in a most
comfortable posture, uttering all sorts of obscure sounds, said once
distinctly am-ma. Of vowels, ao was likewise heard on that day. But, on the
following day, the child surprised me and others by the syllables, spoken
with perfect distinctness, ta-hu.
On the forty-sixth day, in the otherwise unintelligible babble of the infant, I
heard, once each, gö (ö nearly like i in bird), örö, and, five days later, ara.
In the eighth and ninth weeks, the two utterances, örrö, arra, became
frequent, the ö and a being pure and the r uvular.
The syllable ma I heard by itself (it was during his crying) for the first time
on the sixty-fourth day. But on the following day was sounded, during
persistent, loud crying, often and distinctly (it returned in like manner
months after), nei, nei, nei, and once, during his babbling, a-omb.
On the day after, distinctly, once each, la, grei, aho, and, besides, ma again.

On the sixty-ninth day, the child, when hungry, uttered repeatedly and very
distinctly, mömm and ngö.
Of the syllables earlier spoken, only örrö is distinctly repeated in the tenth
week. On the seventy-first day, the child being in the most comfortable
condition, there comes the new combination, ra-a-ao, and, five days later,
in a hungry and uncomfortable mood, nä, and then nāi-n.
The manifest sign of contentment was very distinct (on the seventy-eighth
day): habu, and likewise in the twelfth week a-i and uāo, as well as ä-o-a,
alternating with ä-a-a, ando-ä-ö.
It now became more and more difficult to represent by letters the sounds,
already more varied, and even to distinguish the vowels and repeat them
accurately. The child cries a good deal, as if to exercise his respiratory
muscles. To the sounds uttered while the child is lying comfortably are
added in the fourteenth week ntö, ha. The last was given with an unusually
loud cry, with distinct aspiration of the h, though with no indication that the
child felt any particular pleasure. At this period I heard besides repeatedly
lö, na, the latter along with screaming at disagreeable impressions more and
more frequently and distinctly; in the fifteenth week, nannana, nā-nā,
nanna in refusal. On the other hand, the earlier favorite örrö has not been
heard at all for some weeks.
Screaming while waiting for his food to be prepared (milk and water) or for
the nurse, who had not sufficient nourishment for the child, is marked, in
the sixteenth week—as is also screaming on account of unpleasant feelings
—in general by predominance of the vowels, ä-ŭ, ä-ŭ ä, ā-ŭ, ā-ŭ, ŭ-ä, ŭ-ä,
ū-ū-ā-ö, but meantime is heard amme-a, and as a sign of special discomfort
the persistent ill-sounding ūă-ūă-ūă-ūă (ŭ = Eng. o͞ o).
Screaming in the first five months expresses itself in the main by the vowels
u, ä, ö, a, with ü and o occurring more seldom, and without other
consonants, for the most part, than m.
In the fifth month no new consonants were developed except k; but a
merely passive gö, kö, aggeggĕkö, the last more rarely than the first, was
heard with perfect distinctness during the child's yawning.

While in this case the g-sound originates passively, it was produced, in
connection with ö, evidently by the position of the tongue, when the child
was in a contented frame, as happens in nursing; ögö was heard in the
twenty-second week, as well as ma-ö-ĕ, hă, ā, ho-ich. The i here appeared
more distinct than in the third month. The soft ch, which sounded like the g
in "Honig," was likewise quite distinct.
About this time began the amusing loud "crowing" of the child, an
unmistakable expression of pleasure. The strong aspirate sound ha, and this
sound united with the labial r in brrr-há; corresponding in force to the
voice, which had become exceptionally powerful, must likewise be
regarded as expressions of pleasure. So with the sounds aja, örrgö, ā-ā-i-ŏ-
ā, which the child toward the end of the first half-year utters as if for his
own gratification as he lies in comfort. With these belongs also the
frequently repeated "eu" of the French "heure," and the "œu" of the French
"cœur," which is not found in the German language, also the primitive
sounds ä and ö (German). The lips contract very regularly, and are
protruded equally in the transition from ä to ö. I heard also ijä cried out by
the child in very gay mood. In the babbling and crowing continued often for
a long time without interruption, consonants are seldom uttered, pure
vowels, with the exception of a, less often than ä and ö; i and u are
especially rare.
When the child lies on his back, he moves his arms and legs in a lively
manner even without any external provocation. He contracts and expands
all the muscles he can command, among these especially the muscles of the
larynx, of the tongue, and of the aperture of the mouth. In the various
movements of the tongue made at random it often happens that the mouth is
partly or entirely closed. Then the current of air that issues forth in
breathing bursts the barrier and thus arise many sounds, among them some
that do not exist in the German language, e. g., frequently and distinctly, by
means of labio-lingual stoppage, a consonant-sound between p and t or
between b and d, in the production of which the child takes pleasure, as he
does also in the labial brr and m. By far the greater part of the consonant-
sounds produced by the exercises of the tongue and lips can not be
represented in print; just as the more prolonged and more manifold
movements of the extremities, movements made by the child when he has
eaten his fill, and is not sleepy and is left to himself, can not be drawn or

described. It is noteworthy that all the utterances of sound are expiratory. I
have not once observed an attempt to form sounds while drawing in the
breath.
In the seventh month the child at one time screamed piercingly, in very high
tones, from pain. When hungry and desiring milk, he said with perfect
distinctness, mä, ä, ŭä, ŭäĕ; when contented he would say örrö too, as at an
earlier period. The screaming was sometimes kept up with great vigor until
the child began to be hoarse, in case his desire, e. g., to leave his bed, was
not granted. When the child screams with hunger, he draws the tongue back,
shortens it and thereby broadens it, making loud expirations with longer or
shorter intervals. In pain, on the other hand, the screaming is uninterrupted
and the tones are higher than in any other screaming. During the screaming
I heard the rare l distinctly in the syllable lä. The vowels ŭ-ā-ŭ-i-i also
appeared distinctly, all as if coming by accident, and not often pure. The t
also was seldom heard; f, s, sch, st, sp, sm, ts, ks, w, not once yet; on the
other hand, b, d, m, n, r, often; g, h, more seldom; k, only in yawning; p, but
very rarely, both in screaming and in the child's babble to himself or in
response to friendly address.
In the eighth month the screaming sounds were for the most part different
from what they had been; the disagreeable screaming no longer so intense
and prolonged, from the time that the food of the child consisted
exclusively of pap (Kindermehl) and water. Single vowels, like u and ä, are
very often not to be heard pure. Often the child does not move the lips at all
when with mouth shut he lifts and drops the larynx, and with eager desire
for the pap howls; or coos like a dove, or grunts. The prattling monologues
become longer when the child is alone, lying comfortably in bed. But
definite consonants can only with difficulty be distinguished in them, with
the exception of r in the örrö, which still continues to be uttered, though
rarely and unintentionally. Once the child, while in the bath, cried out as if
yawning, hā-upp, and frequently, when merry, a-e͡ i, a-a͡ u, ă-ha͡ u-ă, hörrö.
When he babbles contentedly in this manner, he moves the tongue quickly,
both symmetrically, e. g., raising the edges equally, and asymmetrically,
thrusting it forward to right or left. He often also puts out the tongue
between the lips and draws it back during expiration, producing thereby the
before-mentioned labio-lingual explosive sounds. I also heard ntĕ-ö, mi-ja,
mija (jlike Eng. y) and once distinctly oŭāĕi.

In the ninth month it is still difficult to recognize definite syllables among
the more varied utterances of sound. But the voice, often indeed very loud
and inarticulate, is already more surely modulated as the expression of
psychical states. When the child, e. g., desires a new, especially a bright
object, he not only stretches both arms in the direction of it, indicating the
direction by his gaze, but also makes known, by the same sound he makes
before taking his food, that he wants it. This complex combination of
movements of eye, larynx, tongue, lips, and arm-muscles appears now more
and more; and we can recognize in his screaming the desire for a change of
position, discomfort (arising from wet, heat, cold), anger, and pain. The last
is announced by screaming with the mouth in the form of a square and by
higher pitch. But delight at a friendly expression of face also expresses
itself by high crowing sounds, only these are not so high and are not
continued long. Violent stretchings of arms and legs accompany (in the
thirty-fourth week first) the joyous utterance. Coughing, almost a clearing
of the throat, is very rare. Articulate utterances of pleasure, e. g., at music,
are mä-mä, äm-mä, mä.
Meantime the lip-movements of the m were made without the utterance of
sound, as if the child had perceived the difference. Other expressions of
sound without assignable cause are ā-au ā-ā, ā-ŏ, a-u-au, na-na, the latter
not with the tone of denial as formerly, and often repeated rapidly in
succession. As separate utterances in comfortable mood, besides örrö came
apa, ga au-ă, acha.
The tenth month is marked by the increasing distinctness of the syllables in
the monologues, which are more varied, louder, and more prolonged when
the child is left to himself than when any one tries to entertain him. Of new
syllables are to be noted ndäĕ, bāë-bāë, ba ell, arrö.
From the forty-second week on, especially the syllables mä and pappa,
tatta, appapa, babba, tätä, pa, are frequently uttered, and the uvular rrrr,
rrra, are repeated unweariedly. The attempts to make the child repeat
syllables pronounced to him, even such syllables as he has before spoken of
his own accord, all fail. In place of tatta he says, in the most favorable
instance, tä or ata; but even here there is progress, for in the previous
month even these hints at imitating or even responding to sound were
almost entirely lacking.

In the eleventh month some syllables emphatically pronounced to the child
were for the first time correctly repeated. I said "ada" several times, and the
attentive child, after some ineffectual movements of the lips, repeated
correctly ada, which he had for that matter often said of his own accord
long before. But this single repetition was so decided that I was convinced
that the sound-imitation was intentional. It was the first unquestionable
sound-imitation. It took place on the three hundred and twenty-ninth day.
The same day when I said "mamma," the response was nanna. In general, it
often happens, when something is said for imitation, and the child observes
attentively my lips, that evident attempts are made at imitation; but for the
most part something different makes its appearance, or else a silent
movement of the lips.
In the forty-fifth week everything said to the child, in case it received his
attention, was responded to with movements of lips and tongue, which gave
the impression of being made at random and of serving rather for diversion.
Further, at this period the child begins during his long monologues to
whisper. He produces sounds in abundance, varying in force, pitch, and
timbre, as if he were speaking an unknown tongue; and some single
syllables may gradually be more easily distinguished, although the
corresponding positions of the mouth pass into one another, sometimes
quite gradually, sometimes rapidly. The following special cases I was able
to establish by means of numerous observations:
In crying rrra, there is a vibration on both sides of the edges of the tongue,
which is bent to a half-cylinder with the ridge upward. In this way the child
produces three kinds of r-sounds—the labial, the uvular, and this bilateral-
lingual.
New syllables of this period are ta-he͡ e, dann-tee, a͡ a-ne͡ e, ngä, tai, bä, dall,
at-tall, kamm, akkee, praï-jer, tra, ā-he͡ e. Among them tra and pra are
noteworthy as the first combination of t and p with r. The surprising
combinations attall and akkee and praijer, which made their appearance
singly without any occasion that could be noticed, like others, are probably
the first attempts to reproduce the child's own name (Axel Preyer) from
memory. Of earlier sounds, syllables, and combinations of these, the
following are especially frequent: Mammam, apapa, örrö, papa, tata, tatta,

na͡ a, rrra, pata, mmm, nă, ā, ä, a͡ u, anna, attapa, dadada, ja, ja-ja, eja, jaë.
The last syllables are distinguished by the distinct e, which is now more
frequent.
All the pains taken to represent a babbling monologue perfectly by letters
were fruitless, because these distinct and oft-repeated syllables alternated
with indistinct loud and soft ones. Still, on the whole, of the consonants the
most frequent at this period are b, p, t, d, m, n, and the new r; l, g, k, not
rare. Of vowels the a has a decided preponderance. Both u and o are rare; i
very rare. Yet a vowel is not repeated, either by itself or in a syllable, more
than five times in succession without an interval. Commonly it is twice or
three times. I have also noticed that the mechanical repetition of the same
syllable, e. g., papapa, occurs far more often than the alternation of a
distinctly spoken syllable with, another distinctly spoken one, like pata. In
the mean time it is certain that the child during his various movements of
lips and tongue, along with contraction and expansion of the opening of the
mouth, readily starts with surprise when he notices such a change of
acoustic effect. It seems as if he were himself taking pleasure in practicing
regularly all sorts of symmetrical and asymmetrical positions of the mouth,
sometimes in silence, sometimes with loud voice, then again with soft
voice. In the combinations of syllables, moreover, palpable accentuation
somewhat like this, appápapa atátata, is by no means frequent. The
surprisingly often repeated dadada has generally no accent.
With regard to the question whether in this period, especially important for
the development of the apparatus of speech, any articulate utterance of
sound stands in firm association with an idea, I have observed the child
under the most varied circumstances possible without disturbing him; but I
have ascertained only one such case with certainty. The atta, hödda, hatta,
hataï, showed itself to be associated with the perception that something
disappeared, for it was uttered when some one left the room, when the light
was extinguished, and the like; also, to be sure, sometimes when such
remarkable changes were not discoverable. Thus, the eleventh month ends
without any other indubitable firm association of articulation and idea.
In the next four weeks, up to the end of the first year of life, there was no
progress in this respect to record; but, from this time on, an eager desire—
e. g., for a biscuit seen, but out of reach—was regularly announced by ä-na,

ä-nananana, uttered loudly and with an expression of indescribable
longing.
The attempts at imitation, too, are somewhat more successful, especially the
attention is more strained. When, e. g., in the fifty-first week, I sang
something for the child, he gazed fixedly more than a minute, with
immovable countenance, without winking, at my mouth, and then moved
his own tongue. Correct repetition of a syllable pronounced to him is,
however, very rare. When I laugh, and the child observes it, he laughs
likewise, and then crows, with strong abdominal pressure. This same loud
expression of joy is exhibited when the child unexpectedly sees his parents
at a distance. This peculiar pressure, with strong expiration, is in general
associated with feelings of pleasure. The child almost seems to delight in
the discovery of his own abdominal pressure, when he produces by means
of it the very high crowing sounds with the vowel i or a genuine grunt.
Of articulate sounds, syllables, and combinations, made without suggestion
from others in the twelfth month, I have caught the following particularly
with accuracy: haja, jajajajaja, aja, njaja, naïn-hopp, ha-a, pa-a, dēwär,
han-na, mömma, allda, alldaï, apa-u-a, gägä, ka, ladn. Besides, the earlier
atta variously modified; no longer dada.
More important than such almost meaningless sound-formations, among
which, by the way, appears for the first time w is the now awakened ability
to discriminate between words heard. The child turns around when his
name is spoken in a loud voice; he does this, it is true, at other loud sounds
also, but then with a different expression. When he hears a new tone, a new
noise, he is surprised, opens his eyes wide, and holds his mouth open,
without moving.
By frequent repetition of the words, "Give the hand," with the holding out
of the hand, I have brought the child, in the fifty-second week, to the point
of obeying this command of himself—a sure proof that he distinguishes
words heard. Another child did the same thing in the seventh month. In this
we can not fail to see the beginning of communication by means of ordinary
language, but this remained a one-sided affair till past the third half-year,
the child being simply receptive. During this whole period, moreover, from
birth on, special sounds, particularly "sch (Eng., sh), ss, st, pst," just the

ones not produced by the child, had a remarkable effect of a quieting
character. If the child heard them when he was screaming, he became quiet,
as when he heard singing or instrumental music.
In the first weeks of the second year of life, the child behaves just as
awkwardly as ever in regard to saying anything that is said to him, but his
attention has become more lively. When anything is said to him for him to
say—e. g., papa, mama, atta, tatta—he looks at the speaker with eyes wide
open and mouth half open, moves the tongue and the lips, often very
slightly, often vigorously, but can not at the same time make his voice
heard, or else he says, frequently with an effort of abdominal pressure, attaï.
Earlier, even in the forty-fifth week, he had behaved in much the same way,
but to the word "papa," pronounced to him, he had responded rrra. Once
only, I remember, papa was repeated correctly, in a faint tone, on the three
hundred and sixty-ninth day, almost as by one in a dream. With this
exception, no word could be repeated on command, notwithstanding the
fact that the faculty of imitation was already active in another department.
The syllables most frequently uttered at this stage were nja, njan, dada,
atta, mama, papaï, attaï, na-na-na, hatta, meenĕ-meenĕ-meenĕ, mömm,
mömma, ao-u.
Of these syllables, na-na regularly denotes a desire, and the arms are
stretched out in connection with it; mama is referred to the mother perhaps
in the fifty-fourth week, on account of the pleasure she shows at the
utterance of these syllables, but they are also repeated mechanically without
any reference to her; atta is uttered now and then at going away, but at other
times also. His joy—e. g., at recognizing his mother at a distance—the child
expresses by crowing sounds, which have become stronger and higher than
they were, but which, can not be clearly designated; the nearest approach to
a representation of them is ăhijă. Affirmation and negation may already be
recognized by the tone of voice alone. The signification of the cooing and
the grunting sounds remains the same. The former indicates desire of food;
the latter the need of relieving the bowels. As if to exercise the vocal cords,
extraordinarily high tones are now produced, which may be regarded as
signs of pleasure in his own power. An imperfect language has thus already
been formed imperceptibly, although no single object is as yet designated
by a sound assigned to it alone. The articulation has made progress, for on

the three hundred and sixty-eighth day appeared the first distinct s, in the
syllable ssi; quite incidentally, to be sure.
The most important advance consists in the now awakened understanding
of spoken words. The ability to learn, or the capability of being trained, has
emerged almost as if it had come in a night.
For it did not require frequent repetition of the question, "How tall is the
child?" along with holding up his arms, in order to make him execute this
movement every time that he heard the words, "Wie gross?" ("How tall?")
or "ooss," nay, even merely "oo." It was easy, too, to induce him to take an
ivory ring, lying before him attached to a thread, into his hand, and reach it
to me prettily when I held out my hand and said, "Where is the ring?" and,
after it had been grasped, said, "Give." In the same way, the child holds the
biscuit, which he is carrying to his mouth, to the lips of the person who says
pleasantly to him, "Give"; and he has learned to move his head sidewise
hither and thither when he hears "No, no." If we say to him, when he wants
food or an object he has seen, "Bitte, bitte" (say "Please"), he puts his hands
together in a begging attitude, a thing which seemed at first somewhat hard
for him to learn. Finally, he had at this time been taught to respond to the
question, "Where is the little rogue?" by touching the side of his head with
his hand (a movement he had often made of himself before).
From this it appears beyond a doubt that now (rather late in comparison
with other children) the association of words heard with certain movements
is established, inasmuch as upon acoustic impressions—at least upon
combined impressions of hearing and of sight, which are repeated in like
fashion—like movements follow, and indeed follow invariably with the
expression of great satisfaction on the countenance. Yet this connection
between the sensorium and the motorium is not yet stable, for there follows
not seldom upon a command distinctly uttered, and without doubt correctly
understood, the wrong movement—paramimy. Upon the question, "How
tall?" the hands are put together for "Please," and the like. Once when I
said, "How tall?" the child raised his arms a moment, then struck himself on
the temples, and thereupon put his hands together, as if "rogue," and then
"please," had been said to him. All three movements followed with the
utmost swiftness, while the expression of face was that of a person
confused, with wavering look. Evidently the child had forgotten which

movement belonged with the "tall," and performed all the three tricks he
had learned, confounding them one with another. This confounding of arm-
raising, head-shaking, giving of the ring, putting the hands together,
touching the head, is frequent. It is also to be noticed that some one of these
five tricks is almost invariably performed by the child when some new
command is given to him that he does not understand, as he perceives that
something is required of him—the first conscious act of obedience, as yet
imperfect.
In the fourteenth month there was no great increase in the number of
independent utterances of sound that can be represented by syllables of the
German language. Surprising visual impressions, like the brilliant
Christmas-tree, and the observation of new objects, drew from the
pleasurably excited child, without his having touched anything, almost the
same sounds that he at other times made when in discontented mood, ŭä,
mŭä, only softer; mömö and mama, and also papa are frequent expressions
of pleasure. When the child is taken away, he often says ta-ta loudly, also,
atta in a whisper. There can no longer be a doubt that in these syllables is
now expressed simply the idea of "going." The labial brrr, the so-called
"coachman's R," was practiced by the child, of his own accord, with special
eagerness, and indeed was soon pronounced so cleverly that educated adults
can not produce it in such purity and especially with so prolonged an
utterance. The only new word is dakku and daggn, which is often uttered
pleasantly with astonishing rapidity, in moments of enjoyment, e. g., when
the child is eating food that tastes good. But it is also uttered so often
without any assignable occasion, that a definite meaning can hardly be
attributed to it, unless it be that of satisfaction. For it is never heard when
the least thing of a disagreeable sort has happened to the child. The
probability is obvious that we have here a case of imitation of the "Thanks"
(Danke) which he has not seldom heard. But the modifications taggn,
attagn, attatn, pass over into the word, undoubtedly the original favorite,
taï, ataï.
Among all the indistinct and distinct sounds of the babbling monologues,
no inspiratory ones appeared at this time either; but such did make their
appearance now and then, in a passive manner, in swallowing and in the
coughing that followed.

I spent much time in trying to get the child to repeat vowels and syllables
pronounced to him, but always without special success. When I said plainly
to him "pá-pá-pá," he answered loudly ta-taï, or with manifest effort and a
vigorous straining, t-taï, k-taï, at-taï, hattaï, and the same when "má-má"
was said for him by any one, no matter whom. He also moved lips and
tongue often, as if trying to get the sound in various ways; as if the will of
the child, as he attentively observed the mouth of the speaker, were present,
but not the ability to reproduce the sound-impression. Evidently he is taking
pains to repeat what he has heard; and he laughs at the unsuccessful effort,
if others laugh over it. The earliest success is with the repetition of the
vowels "a-u-o," but this is irregular and inaccurate.
In contrast with these halting performances stands the precise, parrot-like
repetition of such syllables as the child had uttered of his own accord, and
which I had immediately after pronounced to him. Thus attaï, taï, atta, were
often easily and correctly repeated, but, strangely enough, frequently in a
whisper. The ä-ĕ, ä-ö, ä-ĕ, accompanied by oscillatory movements of the
hand, when imitated directly by me was also produced again; in like
manner, regularly, the dakkn, but this course did not succeed in the case of
other primitive syllables or words, even under the most favorable
circumstances: here it is to be borne in mind that the last-named utterances
were precisely the most frequent at this period. When he was requested with
emphasis to say papa, mama, tata, he would bring out one of the tricks he
had been taught in the previous month; among others, that of moving the
head to one side and the other as if in negation; but this it could not be, for
this significance of the gesture was wholly unknown to him at that time.
Rather had the child received the impression from my voice that he was to
do something that he was bidden, and he did what was easy to him just at
the moment, "mechanically," without knowing which of the movements that
he had learned was required (cf. p. 116).
In regard to the understanding of words heard, several points of progress
are to be noted; above all a change of place in consequence of the question,
"Where is your clothes-press?" The child, standing erect, being held by the
hand, at these words turns his head and his gaze toward the clothes-press,
draws the person holding him through the large room by the hand, although
he can not walk a step alone, and then opens the press without assistance.
Here, at the beginning of the fourteenth month, is the idea of a definite

stationary object associated with a sound heard, and so strongly that it is
able to produce an independent act of locomotion, the first one; for,
although before this the clothes-press had often been named and shown, the
going to it is still the child's own performance.
It is now a matter of common occurrence that other words heard have also a
definite relation to objects seen. The questions, "Where is papa? mamma?
the light?" are invariably answered correctly, after brief deliberation, by
turning the head (at the word "light," occasionally since the ninth month)
and the gaze in the proper direction, and by lifting the right arm, often also
the left, to point, the fingers of the outstretched hand being at the same time
generally spread out. In the previous month, only the association of the
word mama with the appearance of the mother was established. The
following are now added to the movements executed upon hearing certain
words. The child likes to beat with his hands upon the table at which he is
sitting. I said to him, "Play the piano," and made the movement after him.
Afterward, when I merely said the word "piano" to the child (who was at
the time quiet), without moving my hands, he considered for a few seconds,
and then beat again with his hands on the table. Thus the recollection of the
sound was sufficient to bring out the movement. Further, the child had
accustomed himself, of his own accord, to give a regular snort, contracting
the nostrils, pursing up the mouth, and breathing out through the nose. If
now any one spoke to him of the "nose," this snorting was sure to be made.
The word put the centro-motors into a state of excitement. The same is true
of the command "Give!" since the child reaches out the object he is holding
or is about to take hold of, in case any one puts out the hand or the lips to
him. Some weeks ago this took place only with the ring and biscuit; now
the word "give" has the same effect with any object capable of being
grasped, but it operates almost like a reflex stimulus, "mechanically,"
without its being even once the case that the act of giving is a purely
voluntary act or even occasioned by sympathy.
In these already learned co-ordinated movements made upon hearing the
words "Please, How tall? rogue! no! piano! ring! give!" all of which are
now executed with shorter intervals of deliberation as if by a well-trained
animal, there is in general absolutely no deeper understanding present than
that to this and the other sound-impression belong this and the other
movement. By means of daily repetition of both, the time required for the

production of the movement after the excitement of the auditory nerve
becomes less and less, the doubt as to which movement follows this or that
sound withdrawing more and more. At last the responsive movements
followed without any remarkable strain of attention. They became habitual.
Now and then, however, the movements are still confounded. Upon "no!
no!" follows the touching of the head; upon "please," the shaking of the
head; upon "rogue," the putting of the hands together, etc. These errors
become frequent when a new impression diverts the attention. They become
more and more rare through repetition of the right movements made for the
child to see and through guiding the limbs of the child. A further evidence
of the increased ability to learn toward the end of the month is the fact that
the hands are raised in the attitude of begging not only at the command
"Please," but also at the question, "How does the good child behave?" Thus,
the experience is beginning to become a conscious one that, in order to
obtain anything, the begging attitude is useful.
The fifteenth month brought no new definite independent utterances of
sound with the exception of wa. Sensations and emotions, however, are
indicated more and more definitely and variously by sounds that are
inarticulate and sometimes unintelligible. Thus, astonishment is expressed
by hā-ā ĕā-ĕ; joy by vigorous crowing in very high tones and more
prolonged than before; further, very strong desire by repeated häö, hä-ĕ;
pain, impatience, by screaming in vowels which pass over into one another.
The only word that is unquestionably used of the child's own motion to
indicate a class of perceptions is still atta, ha-atta, which during the
following month also is uttered softly, for the most part, on going out, and
which signifies "away" or "gone" (weg), and still continues to be used also
as it was in the eleventh month, when a light is dimmed (by a lamp-shade).
Beyond this no syllable can be named that marked the dawn of mental
independence, none that testified to the voluntary use of articulate sounds
for the purpose of announcing perceptions. For the brrr, the frequent dakkn,
mamam, mömö, and papap, are without significance in the monologues.
Even the saying of atta, with turning of the head toward the person going
away, has acquired the meaning of "away" (fort) only through being
repeatedly said to the child upon his being carried out; but no one said the
word when the lamp was extinguished. Here has been in existence for some

time not only the formation of the concept, but also the designation of the
concept by syllables. The similarity in the very different phenomena of
going away and of the dimming of the light, viz., the disappearance of a
visual impression, was not only discovered, but was named by the child
entirely independently in the eleventh month, and has kept its name up to
the present time. He has many impressions; he perceives, he unites qualities
to make concepts. This he has been doing for a long time without words;
but only in this one instance does the child express one of his concepts in
language after a particular instance had been thus named for him, and then
the word he uses is one not belonging to his later language, but one that
belongs to all children the world over.
In regard to the repeating of syllables pronounced to him a marked advance
is noticeable. The child can not, indeed, by any means repeat na and pa and
o or e and be. He answers a, taï, ta-a-o-ö-a, and practices all sorts of
tongue-and lip-exercises. But the other syllables uttered by him, especially
anna, taï, dakkn, a, he says in response to any one who speaks them
distinctly to him, and he gives them easily and correctly in parrot fashion. If
a new word is said to him, e. g., "kalt" (cold), which he can not repeat, he
becomes vexed, turns away his head, and screams, too, sometimes. I have
been able to introduce into his vocabulary only one new word. In the sixty-
third week he seized a biscuit that had been dipped in hot water, let it fall,
drew down the corners of his mouth, and began to cry. Then I said "heiss"
(hot), whereupon the child, speedily quieted, repeated haï and haï-s (with a
just discernible s). Three days later the same experiment was made. After
this the haïs, haïsses, with distinct s, was often heard without any occasion.
Some days later I wanted him to say "hand." The child observed my mouth
closely, took manifest pains, but produced only ha-ïss, then very distinctly
hass with sharp ss, and ha-ith, hadith, with the English th; at another time
distinctly ha-its. Thus, at a time when ts = z can not be repeated, there exists
the possibility of pronouncing z. When I said to him "warm," ass was
pronounced with an effort and distinctly, although the syllable wa belonged
to the child's stock of words. This was evidently a recollection of the
previous attempts to repeat "heiss" and "hand."
Corresponding to this inability to say words after another's utterance of
them is an articulation as yet very imperfect. Still, there is indication of
progress in the distinctness of the s, the frequent English th with the

thrusting out of the tip of the tongue between the incisors, the w, which now
first appears often, as well as in the smacking first heard in the sixty-fifth
week (in contented mood). The tongue is, when the child is awake, more
than other muscles that in the adult are subject to cerebral volition, almost
always in motion even when the child is silent. It is in various ways partly
contracted, extended, bent. The lateral bending of the edges of the tongue
downward and the turning back of the tip of the tongue (from left to right)
so that the lower surface lies upward, are not easily imitated by adults. The
mobility of my child's tongue is at any rate much greater than that of my
tongue, notwithstanding the fact that, in consequence of varied practice
from an early period in rapid speaking, the most difficult performances in
rapid speaking are still easily executed by mine. The tongue is
unquestionably the child's favorite plaything. One might almost speak of a
lingual delirium in his case, as in that of the insane, when he pours forth all
sorts of disconnected utterances, articulate and inarticulate, in confusion;
and yet I often saw his tongue affected with fibrillar contractions as if the
mastery of the hypoglossus were not as yet complete. Quite similar fibrillar
movements seem to be made by the tongue in bulbar paralysis, and in the
case of dogs and guinea-pigs whose hypoglossus has been severed.
To the number of words heard that already produce a definite movement are
added the following new ones. The child is asked, "Where is the moon? the
clock? the eye? the nose?" and he raises an arm, spreads the fingers, and
looks in the proper direction. If I speak of "coughing," he coughs; of
"blowing," he blows; of "kicking," he stretches out his legs; of "light," he
blows into the air, or, if there is a lamp in sight, toward that, looking at it
meantime—a reminiscence of the blowing out of matches and candles often
seen by him. It requires great pains to get from him the affirmative nod of
the head at the spoken "ja, ja." Not till the sixty-fourth week was this
achieved by means of frequent repetition and forcible direction, and the
movement was but awkwardly executed even later—months after. On
hearing the "no, no," the negative shake of the head now appeared almost
invariably, and this was executed as by adults without the least uncertainty.
The holding out of his hand at hearing "Give the hand," occurs almost
invariably, but is not to be regarded as a special case of understanding of the
syllable "give," for the word "hand" alone produces the same result.

All these accomplishments, attained by regular training, do not afford the
least evidence of an understanding of what is commanded when the sound-
impression is converted into motor impulse. It is rather a matter of the
establishment of the recollection of the customary association of both
during the interval of deliberation. The words and muscular contractions
that belong together are less often confounded, and the physiological part of
the process takes less time, but its duration is noticeably prolonged when
the child is not quite well. He deliberates for as much as twelve seconds
when the question is asked him, "Where is the rogue?" and then responds
with the proper gesture (p. 115).
The sixteenth month brought few new articulate utterances of sound, none
associated with a definite meaning; on the other hand, there was a marked
progress in repeating what was said to the child, and especially in the
understanding of words heard.
Among the sounds of his own making are heard—along with the hä! hä-ö!
ha-ĕ! hĕ-ĕ! that even in the following months often expresses desire, but
often also is quite without meaning—more seldom hi, gö-gö, gö, f-pa (the f
for the first time), a͡ u, and more frequently ta, dokkn, tá-ha, a-bwa-bwa,
bŭā-bŭ-ā, and, as if by accident, once among all sorts of indefinable
syllables, dagon. Further, the child—as was the case in the previous month
—likes to take a newspaper or a book in his hands and hold the print before
his face, babbling ä-ĕ, ä-ĕ, ä-ĕ, evidently in imitation of the reading aloud
which he has often observed. By giving the command, "Read!" it was easy
to get this performance repeated. Besides this, it is a delight to the child to
utter a syllable—e. g., bwa or ma—over and over, some six times in
succession, without stopping. As in the previous month, there are still the
whispered attö and hattö, at the hiding of the face or of the light, at the
shutting of a fan, or the emptying of a soup-plate, together with the dakkn,
with the combinations of syllables made out of ta, pa, ma, na, at, ap, am,
an, and with mömö. The papa and mama do not, however, express an
exclusive relation to the parents. Only to the questions, "Where is papa?"
"Where is mamma?" he points toward them, raising his hand with the
fingers spread. Pain is announced by loud and prolonged screaming; joy by
short, high-pitched, piercing crowing, in which the vowel i appears.

Of isolated vowels, a only was correctly repeated on command. Of
syllables, besides those of the previous month, mö and ma; and here the
child's excessive gayety over the success of the experiment is worthy of
remark. He made the discovery that his parrot-like repetition was a fresh
source of pleasure, yet he could not for several weeks repeat again the
doubled syllables, but kept to the simple ones, or responded with all sorts of
dissimilar ones, like attob, or said nothing. The syllable ma was very often
given back as hömá and hömö; pa was never given back, but, as had been
the case previously, only ta and taï were the responses, made with great
effort and attention, and the visible purpose of repeating correctly. To the
word "danke," pronounced for him with urgency innumerable times, the
response is dakkn, given regularly and promptly, and this in the following
months also. If all persuasion failed, and the child were then left to himself
without any direction of his attention, then not infrequently new imitations
of sounds would be given correctly—e. g., when I said "bo"—but these,
again, would no longer succeed when called for. Indeed, such attempts
often broke down utterly at once. Thus the child once heard a hen making a
piteous outcry, without seeing the creature, and he tried in vain to imitate
the sound, but once only, and not again. On the other hand, he often
succeeds in repeating correctly movements of the tongue made for him to
see, as the thrusting out of the tongue between the lips, by reason of the
extraordinary mobility of his tongue and lips; he even tries to smack in
imitation. The more frequent partial contractions of the tongue, without
attempts at speaking, are especially surprising. On one side, toward the
middle of the tongue, rises a longitudinal swelling; then the edges are
brought together, so that the tongue almost forms a closed tube; again, it is
turned completely back in front. Such flexibility as this hardly belongs to
the tongue of any adult. Besides, the lips are often protruded a good deal,
even when this is not required in framing vocables.
The gain in the understanding of words heard is recognizable in this, that
when the child hears the appropriate word, he takes hold, with thumb and
forefinger, in a most graceful manner, of nose, mouth, beard, forehead, chin,
eye, ear, or touches them with the thumb. But in doing this he often
confounds ear and eye, chin and forehead, even nose and ear. "O" serves in
place of "Ohr" (ear); "Au" in place of "Auge" (eye). In both cases the child
soon discovered that these organs are in pairs, and he would seize with the

right hand the lobe of my left and of my right ear alternately after I had
asked "Ear?" How easily in such cases a new sound-impression causes
confusion is shown by the following fact: After I had at one time pointed
out one ear, and had said, "Other ear," I succeeded, by means of repetition,
in getting him to point out this other one also correctly every time. Now,
then, the thing was to apply what had been learned to the eye. When one
eye had been pointed out, I asked, "Where is the other eye?" The child
grasped at an ear, with the sight of which the sound "other" was now
associated. Not till long after (in the twentieth month) did he learn to apply
this sound of himself to different parts of the body. On the other hand, he
understands perfectly the significance of the commands, "Bring, fetch, give
——"; he brings, fetches, gives desired objects, in which case, indeed, the
gesture and look of the speaker are decisive; for, if these are only distinctly
apprehended, it does not make much difference which word is said, or
whether nothing is said.
In the seventeenth month, although no disturbance of the development took
place, there was no perceptible advance in the utterance of thoughts by
sounds, or in the imitation of syllables pronounced by others, or in
articulation, but there was a considerable increase of the acoustic power of
discrimination in words heard and of the memory of sounds.
Of syllables original with the child, these are new: Bibi, nä-nä-nä—the first
has come from the frequent hearing of "bitte"; the last is an utterance of joy
at meeting and an expression of the desire to be lifted up. Otherwise,
longing, abhorrence, pleasure and pain, hunger and satiety, are indicated by
pitch, accent, timbre, intensity of the vocal sounds, more decidedly than by
syllables. A peculiar complaining sound signifies that he does not
understand; another one, that he does not wish. In place of atta, at the
change of location of an object perceived, comes often a t-tó and höt-tó,
with the lips much protruded. But, when the child himself wishes to leave
the room, then he takes a hat, and says atta, casting a longing look at his
nurse, or repeatedly taking hold of the door.
Of voluntary attempts to imitate sounds, the most noteworthy were the
efforts to give the noise heard on the winding of a time-piece, and to repeat
tones sung.

The associations of words heard with seen, tangible objects on the one
hand, and, on the other hand, with definite co-ordinated muscular
movements, have become considerably more numerous. Thus the following
are already correctly distinguished, being very rarely confounded: Uhr
(clock), Ohr (ear); Schuh (shoe), Stuhl (chair), Schulter (shoulder), Fuss
(foot); Stirn (forehead), Kinn (chin); Nase (nose), blasen (blow); Bart
(beard), Haar (hair); heiss (hot), Fleisch (meat).
In addition to the above, eye, arm, hand, head, cheek, mouth, table, light,
cupboard, flowers, are rightly pointed out.
The child so often obeys the orders he hears—"run," "kick," "lie down,"
"cough," "blow," "bring," "give," "come," "kiss"—that when he
occasionally does not obey, the disobedience must be ascribed no longer, as
before, to deficient understanding, but to caprice, or, as may be discerned
beyond a doubt from the expression of his countenance, to a genuine
roguishness. Thus the spoken consonants are at last surely recognized in
their differences of sound.
In the eighteenth month this ability of the ear to discriminate, and with it the
understanding of spoken words, increases. "Finger, glass, door, sofa,
thermometer, stove, carpet, watering-pot, biscuit," are rightly pointed out,
even when the objects, which were at first touched, or merely pointed at,
along with loud and repeated utterance of those words, are no longer
present, but objects like them are present. Say "Finger," and the child takes
hold of his own fingers only; "Ofen" (stove), then he invariably at first
looks upward ("oben"). Besides the earlier commands, the following are
correctly obeyed: "Find, pick up, take it, lay it down." Hand him a flower,
saying, "Smell," and he often carries it to his nose without opening his
mouth.
The repeating of syllables spoken for him is still rare; "mamma" is
responded to by ta. The voluntary repeating of syllables heard by chance is
likewise rare; in particular, "jaja" is now repeated with precision.
The atta, which used to be whispered when anything disappeared from the
child's field of vision, has changed to tto and t-tu and ftu, with pouting of
the lips.

In the monologues appear näi, mimi, päpä, mimiä, pata, rrrrr, the last
uvular and labial for minutes at a time. But these meaningless utterances are
simply signs of well-being in general, and are gladly repeated from pleasure
in the exercise of the tongue and lips. The tongue still vibrates vigorously
with fibrillar contractions when it is at rest, the mouth being open.
Characteristic for this period is the precision with which the various moods
of feeling are expressed, without articulate sounds, by means of the voice,
now become very high and strong, in screaming and crowing, then again in
wailing, whimpering, weeping, grunting, squealing; so that the mood is
recognized by the voice better than ever before, especially desire, grief, joy,
hunger, willfulness, and fear. But this language can not be represented by
written characters.
The same holds good of the nineteenth month, in which bawling and
babbling are more rare, the spontaneous sound-imitations are more
frequent, the vocal cords are strained harder, the mechanism of articulation
works with considerably more ease; the understanding and the retention of
spoken words have perceptibly increased, but no word of the child's own,
used always in the same sense, is added.
When the child has thrown an object from the table to the floor, he often
follows it with his gaze and whispers, even when he does not know he is
observed, atta or t-ta, which is here used in the same sense with tuff or ft or
ftu, for "fort" (gone).
When he had taken a newspaper out of the paper-basket and had spread it
on the floor, he laid himself flat upon it, holding his face close to the print,
and said—evidently of his own accord, imitating, as he had done before, the
reading aloud of the newspaper, which had often been witnessed by him—
repeating it for a long time in a monotonous voice, e-já-e-e-já nanana ána-
ná-na atta-ána āje-já sā; then he tore the paper into many small pieces, and
next turned the leaves of books, uttering pa-pa-ab ta hö-ö-ĕ mömömöm hö-
önĕ.
Such monologues are, however, exceptional at this period, the rule being
uniform repetitions of the same syllable, e. g., habb habb habb habb
habbwa habbua.

Screaming when water of 26° C. was poured over him in the bath appeared,
a few days after the first experiment of this sort, even before the bathing, at
sight of the tub, sponge, and water. Previously, fear had only in very rare
cases occasioned screaming, now the idea of the cold and wet that were to
be expected was enough to occasion violent screaming. After about three
weeks of daily bathing with water from 18 to 24° C., however, the
screaming decreased again. The experience that a pleasant feeling of
warmth succeeded, may have forced the recollection of the unpleasant
feeling into the background. But the screaming can not at all be represented
by letters; ä and ö do not suffice. The same is true of the screaming, often
prolonged, before falling asleep in the evening, which occurs not seldom
also without any assignable occasion, the child making known by it his
desire to leave the bed. As this desire is not complied with, the child
perceives the uselessness of the screaming, and at length obeys the
command, "Lie down," without our employing force or expedients for
soothing him.
How far the power of imitation and of articulation is developed, is shown
especially by the fact that now, at last, pa is correctly pronounced in
response; in the beginning ta was still frequently the utterance, then ba,
finally pa almost invariably given correctly.
Further, these results were obtained:
Words said to Response.
him.
bitte bis, bits, bit, bets, beest, be, bi, bit-th
(Eng., th)
hart hatt, att, haat.
Fleisch da-ich, daï-s-ch, daï-s-j
ma mö, ma.
In bits appears with perfect distinctness (as already in the fifteenth month)
the very rare ts = z. The "hart" was once only confounded with "haar," and
responded to by grasping at the hair. The bits soon served to add force to the
putting together of the hands in the attitude of begging; it is thus the first
attempt at the employment of a German word to denote a state of his own,
and that the state of desire. The other words said to him, and illustrated by

touching and putting the hands upon objects, could not be given by him in
response. When he was to say "weich" (soft), "kalt" (cold), "nass" (wet), he
turned his head away in repugnance, as formerly. To "nass" he uttered in
reply, once only, na. Smacking, when made for him, was imitated perfectly.
The early morning hours, in which the sensibility of the brain is at its
highest, are the best adapted to such experiments; but these experiments
were not multiplied, in order that the independent development might not
be disturbed.
The progress in the discrimination of words heard, and in the firm retention
of what has been repeatedly heard, is shown particularly in more prompt
obedience, whether in abstaining or in acting.
To the list of objects correctly pointed out upon request are added "leg, nail,
spoon, kettle," and others. It is noteworthy, too, that now, if the syllables pa
and ma, or papaand mamma, are prefixed to the names of the known parts
of the face and head, the child points these out correctly; e. g., to the
question "Where is Mamma-ear," the child responds by taking hold of the
ear of his mother, and to "papa-ear," of that of his father; so with "nose,
eye," etc. But if asked for "mamma-beard," the child is visibly embarrassed,
and finally, when there is a laugh at his hesitation, he laughs too.
The old tricks, "How tall is the child?" and "Where is the little rogue?"
which have not been practiced for months past, have been retained in
memory, for when in the eighty-second week I brought out both questions
with urgency, the child bethought himself for several seconds, motionless,
then suddenly, after the first question, raised both arms. After the other
question he likewise considered for several seconds, and then pointed to his
head as he used to do. His memory for sound-impressions often repeated
and associated with specific movements is consequently good.
In the twentieth month there was an important advance to be recorded in his
manner of repeating what was said to him. Suddenly, on the five hundred
and eighty-fourth day, the child is repeating correctly and without difficulty
words of two syllables that consist either of two like syllables—for the sake
of brevity I will call these like-syllabled—or of syllables the second of
which is the reverse of the first—such I call reverse-syllabled. Thus of the
first class are papa, mama, bebe, baba, neinei, jaja, bobo, bubu; of the

second class, otto, enne, anna; these are very frequently given back quickly
and faultlessly at this period, after the repetition of the single syllables pa,
ma, and others had gone on considerably more surely than before, and the
child had more often tried of himself to imitate what he heard. These
imitations already make sometimes the impression of not being voluntary.
Thus the child once—in the eighty-third week—observed attentively a
redstart in the garden for two full minutes, and then imitated five or six
times, not badly, the piping of the bird, turning round toward me afterward.
It was when he saw me that the child first seemed to be aware that he had
made attempts at imitation at all. For his countenance was like that of one
awaking from sleep, and he could not now be induced to imitate sounds.
After five days the spectacle was repeated. Again the piping of the bird was
reproduced, and in the afternoon the child took a cow, roughly carved out of
wood, of the size of the redstart, made it move back and forth on the table,
upon its feet, and chirped now as he had done at sight of the bird;
imagination was here manifestly much excited. The wooden animal was to
represent the bird, often observed in the garden, and nesting in the veranda;
and the chirping and piping were to represent its voice.
On the other hand, words of unlike syllables, like "Zwieback" (biscuit),
"Butterbrod," are either not given back at all or only in unrecognizable
fashion, in spite of their being pronounced impressively for him. "Trocken"
(dry) yields sometimes tokkĕ, tokko, otto. Words of one syllable also offer
generally great difficulties of articulation: thus "warm" and "weich" become
wāi, "kalt" and "hart" become hatt. Although "bi" and "te" are often rightly
given each by itself, the child can not combine the two, and turns away with
repugnance when he is to reproduce "bi-te." The same thing frequently
happens, still, even with "mamma" and "papa." But the child, when in lively
spirits, very often pronounces of his own accord the syllables "bi" and "te"
together, preferring, indeed, bidth (with English th) and beet to "bitte." In
place of "adjö" (adieu) he gives back adē and adjē. Nor does he succeed in
giving back three syllables; e. g., the child says papa, but not "papagei", and
refuses altogether to repeat "gei" and "pagei." The same is true of "Gut,"
"Nacht," although he of himself holds out his hand for "Gute Nacht."
When others laugh at anything whatsoever, the child laughs regularly with
them, a purely imitative movement.

It is surprising that the reproducing of what is said to him succeeds best
directly after the cold bath in the morning, when the child has been
screaming violently and has even been shivering, or when he is still
screaming and is being rubbed dry, and, as if resigned to his fate, lies almost
without comprehension. The will, it would seem, does not intrude here as a
disturbing force, and echolalia manifests itself in its purity, as in the case of
hypnotics. The little creature is subdued and powerless. But he speedily
recovers himself, and then it is often quite hard to tell whether he will not or
can not say the word that is pronounced to him.
The understanding of single words, especially of single questions and
commands, is considerably more prompt than in the previous month.
Without there being any sort of explanation for it, this extraordinary
understanding is here, manifesting itself particularly when the child is
requested to fetch and carry all sorts of things. He has observed and touched
a great deal, has listened less, except when spoken to. All training in tricks
and performances, an evil in the modern education of children hard to
avoid, was, however, suppressed as far as possible, so that the only new
things were "making a bow" and "kissing the hand." The child practices
both of these toward the end of the month, without direction, at coming and
going. Many new objects, such as window, bed, knife, plate, cigar, his own
teeth and thumbs, are correctly pointed out, if only the corresponding word
is distinctly pronounced. Yet "Ofen" and "oben" are still confounded.
To put into written form the syllables invented by the child independently,
and to get at a sure denotation of objects by them, is exceedingly difficult,
particularly when the syllables are merely whispered as the objects are
touched, which frequently occurs. At the sight of things rolled noisily,
especially of things whirling in a circle, the child would utter rodi, otto,
rojo, and like sounds, in general, very indistinctly. Only one new concept
could with certainty be proved to be associated with a particular sound.
With dā and ndā, frequently uttered on the sudden appearance of a new
object in the field of vision, in a lively manner, loudly and with a peculiarly
demonstrative accent—also with tā and ntā—the child associates, beyond a
doubt, existence, coming, appearing, shooting forth, emerging, in contrast
with the very often softly spoken, whispered atta, f-tu, tuff, which signifies
"away" or "gone." If I cover my head and let the child uncover it, he laughs
after taking off the handkerchief, and says loudly da; if I leave the room, he

says atta or hätta, or ft or t-ta, generally softly; the last of these, or else
hata, he says if he would like to be taken out himself. In the eighty-seventh
week we went away on a journey, and on the railway-train the child, with
an expression of terror or of anxious astonishment, again and again said
attah, but without manifesting the desire for a change of place for himself,
even by stretching out his arms.
Two words only—papa for father, and bät or bit for "bitte," are, besides,
rightly applied of the child's own accord. The prolonged screaming, from
wantonness, of nānānānā, nom-nom, hāhā, lālā, chiefly when running
about, has no definite meaning. The child exercises himself a good deal in
loud outcry, as if he wanted to test the power of his voice. These exercises
evidently give him great pleasure. Still the highest crowing tones are no
longer quite so high and piercing as they were formerly. The vocal cords
have become larger, and can no longer produce such high tones. The
screaming sounds of discontent, which continue to be repeated sometimes
till hoarseness appears, but rarely in the night, have, on the contrary, as is
the case with the shrill sounds of pain, scarcely changed their character, hä-
e, hä-ä-ä-ĕ, ĕ. They are strongest in the bath, during the pouring on of cold
water.
The child, when left to himself, keeps up all the time his loud readings
("Lesestudien"). He "reads" in a monotonous way maps, letters,
newspapers, drawings, spreading them out in the direction he likes, and lies
down on them with his face close to them, or holding the sheet with his
hands close to his face, and, as before, utters especially vowel-sounds.
In the twenty-first month imitative attempts of this kind became more
frequent; but singularly enough the babbling—from the eighty-ninth week
on—became different. Before this time vowels were predominant, now
more consonants are produced. When something is said for the child to
reproduce that presents insuperable difficulties of articulation, then he
moves tongue and lips in a marvelous fashion, and often says ptö-ptö, pt-pt,
and verlapp, also dla-dla, without meaning, no matter what was the form of
the word pronounced to him. In such practice there often appears likewise a
wilfulness, showing itself in inarticulate sounds and the shaking of the head,
even when it is merely the repetition of easy like-syllabled words that is
desired. Hence, in the case of new words, it is more difficult than before, or

is even impossible to determine whether the child will not or whether he
can not reproduce them. Words of unlike syllables are not repeated at all,
not even "bitte." In place of "danke" are heard dang-gee and dank-kee; the
former favorite dakkn is almost never heard. In most of the attempts at
sound imitation, the tendency to the doubling of syllables is worthy of
notice. I say "bi," and the answer is bibi; then I say "te," and the answer is
te-te. If I say "bi-te," the answer is likewise bibi; a single time only, in spite
of daily trial, the answer was bi-te, as if by oversight.
This doubling of syllables, involuntary and surely contrary to the will of the
child, stands in remarkable contrast with the indolence he commonly shows
in reproducing anything said, even when the fault is not to be charged to
teasing, stubbornness, or inability. The child then finds more gratification in
other movements than those of the muscles of speech. The babbling only,
abounding in consonants, yields him great pleasure, particularly when it is
laughed at, although it remains wholly void of meaning as language. Yet
bibi, like bäbä, for "bitte," is correctly used by the child of his own accord.
A new word, and one that gives notice of a considerable advance, is the
term used by the child when hungry and thirsty, for "milk" or "food." He
says, viz., with indescribable longing in his voice, mimi, more rarely than
before mämä and mömöm (page 85). The first appellation was certainly
taken from the often-heard "milk" by imitation, and applied to biscuit and
other kinds of food. If the child, when he has eaten enough, is asked, "Do
you want milk?" he says without direction, neinein; he has thus grasped and
turned to use already the signification of the sound. The same is, perhaps,
true also of "ja." For previously, when I asked the child as he was eating,
"Does it taste good?" he was silent, and I would say, "Say jaja," and this
would be correctly repeated. But in the ninety-first week he, of his own
accord, answers the question with jaja—"yes, yes." This, too, may rest
simply on imitation, without a knowledge of the meaning of the ja, and
without an understanding of the question; yet there is progress in the
recollection of the connection of the sound "schmeckt's" with jaja, the
intermediate links being passed over.
In other cases, too, the strength of the memory for sounds is plainly
manifested. To all questions of an earlier period, "Where is the forehead,
nose, mouth, chin, beard, hair, cheek, eye, ear, shoulder?" the child now at

once pointed correctly in every instance, although he might not have
answered them for anybody even once for two weeks. Only the question,
"Where is the thumb?" made him hesitate. But when the thumb had been
again shown to him (firmly pressed), he knew it, and from that time pointed
it out invariably without delay. To the question, "Where is the eye?" he is
accustomed to shut both eyes quickly at the same time and to open them
again, and then to point to my eye; to the question, "Axel's eye?" he
responds by pointing to his own; to the question, "The other eye?" by
pointing to the one not touched.
In the understanding of what is spoken astonishing progress has been made
—e. g., if I say, "Go, take the hat and lay it on the chair!" the child executes
the order without considering more than one or two seconds. He knows the
meaning of a great number of words that no one has taught him—e. g.,
"whip, stick, match, pen." Objects of this sort are surely distinguished by
the child, for, upon receiving orders, he gets, picks up, brings, lays down,
gives these things each by itself.
This understanding of spoken words is the more surprising, as his repetition
of them continues still to be of a very rudimentary character. With the
exception of some interjections, especially jāĕ as a joyous sound and of
crowing sounds, also screaming sounds, which, however, have become
more rare, the child has but few expressions of his own with a recognizable
meaning; ndä, ndä, da is demonstrative "da" ("there") at new impressions.
Att, att, att, is unintelligible, perhaps indicative of movement.
Attah means "we are off" (upon setting out) and "I want to go" ("ich will
fort"); tatass, tatass is unintelligible, possibly a sound-imitation.
When traveling by rail the child tried several times to imitate the hissing of
the steam of the locomotive.
In the twenty-second month again there are several observations to record,
which show the progress in understanding, the strengthening of the
memory, and the greater facility in articulation. The child executes the
orders given him with surprising accuracy, although the words spoken have
not previously been impressed on him separately. Here, indeed, it is
essential to consider the looks and gestures of those who give the orders;

but the child also does what I request of him without looking at me.
Instances of confusion among the words known to him are also perceptibly
more rare. Once I asked him very distinctly, "Where's the moon?" (Mond),
and for answer the child pointed to his mouth (Mund). But the error was not
repeated.
The strength of the word-memory appears particularly in this, that all the
objects learned are more quickly pointed out on request than they were
previously, and the facility of articulation is perceived in the multiplying of
consonants in the monologues and in the frequent spontaneous utterance of
pss, ps, ptsch (once), and pth (Engl.). The child says, without any occasion,
pa-ptl-dä, pt, and gives a loud greeting from a distance with ha͞ a-ö, with
ada, and ana.
It seemed to me remarkable that the boy began several times without the
least incitement to sing tolerably well. When I expressed my approval of it,
he sprang about, overjoyed. At one time he sang, holding his finger on his
tongue, first rollo, rollo, innumerable times, then mama, mama, mämä,
mama.
The progress in the sound-mechanism is most plainly discerned in the
greater certainty in reproducing what is spoken. Thus, "pst" is correctly
given, and of reverse-syllabled words, very accurately, "anna, otto, alla,
appa, enne"; of unlike-syllabled words, "lina," but still, notwithstanding
many trials, not yet "bitte." For the first time three-syllabled words also,
plainly pronounced to him, were correctly given back, viz., a-mama and a-
pa-pa, as the child names his grandparents. Hitherto the vowels e, i, o, u,
could not be correctly given every time, but "a" could be so given as before.
When the reproduction of any new word that is too hard is requested—e. g.,
"gute Nacht"—the child at this period regularly answers tapĕta, pĕta, pta,
and ptö-ptö, also rateratetat, expressing thereby not merely his inability, but
also, sometimes roguishly, his disinclination to repeat.
Ja ja and nein nein, along with da and bibi (with or without folding of the
hands, for "bitte"), and mimi, continue still to be the only words taken from
the language of adults that are used by the child in the proper sense when he
desires or refuses anything. Apart from these appear inarticulate sounds,
uttered even with the mouth shut. The intense cry of pain, or that produced

by cold or wet or by grief at the departure of the parents (this with the
accompaniment of abundant tears and the drawing of the corners of the
mouth far down), makes the strongest contrast with the crowing for joy,
particularly that at meeting again.
The twenty-third month brought at length the first spoken judgment. The
child was drinking milk, carrying the cup to his mouth with both hands. The
milk was too warm for him, and he set the cup down quickly and said,
loudly and decidedly, looking at me with eyes wide open and with
earnestness, heiss (hot). This single word was to signify "The drink is too
hot!" In the same week, at the end of the ninety-ninth, the child of his own
accord went to the heated stove, took a position before it, looked attentively
at it, and suddenly said with decision, hot (heiss)! Again, a whole
proposition in a syllable. In the sixty-third week for the first time the child
had reproduced the word "hot" pronounced to him. Eight and a half months
were required for the step from the imitative hot to the independent hot as
expressive of his judgment. He progressed more rapidly with the word
"Wasser," which was reproduced as watja, and was called out longingly by
the thirsty child a few weeks afterward. He already distinguishes water and
milk in his own fashion as watja and mimi. Yet mimmi, mömö, and māmā
still signify food in general, and are called out often before meal-times by
the impatient and hungry child. The primitive word atta is likewise
frequently uttered incidentally when anything disappears from the child's
field of vision or when he is himself carried away. The other sound-
utterances of this period proceeding from the child's own impulse are
interesting only as exercises of the apparatus of articulation. Thus, the child
not seldom cries aloud oi or eu (äu); further, unusually loud, ana, and for
himself in play, ida, didl, dadl, dldo-dlda, and in singing tone opojö,
apojopojum aui, heissa. With special pleasure the child, when talking to
himself, said papa, mama, mämä, mimi, momo, of his own accord, but not
"mumu"; on the other hand, e-mama-ma-memama, mi, ma, mö, ma. His
grandparents he now regularly designates by e-papa and e-mama. He
knows very well who is meant when he is asked, "Where is grandmamma?
Grandpapa?" And several days after leaving them, when asked the question,
e. g., on the railway-train, he points out of the window with a troubled look.
The understanding of words heard is, again, in general more easy. The child
for the most part obeys at once when I say, "drink, eat, shut, open, pick it

up, turn around, sit, run!" Only the order "come!" is not so promptly
executed, not, however, on account of lack of understanding, but from
willfulness. That the word-memory is becoming firm is indicated
particularly by the circumstance that now the separate parts of the face and
body are pointed out, even after pretty long intervals, quickly and upon
request, on his own person and that of others. When I asked about his beard,
the child (after having already pointed to my beard), in visible
embarrassment, pointed with his forefinger to the place on his face
corresponding to that where he saw the beard on mine, and moved his
thumb and forefinger several times as if he were holding a hair of the beard
between them and pulling at it, as he had had opportunity to do with mine.
Here, accordingly, memory and imagination came in as supplementary to
satisfy the demand made by the acoustic image.
The greatest progress is to be recorded in this month in regard to the
reproduction of syllables and words. A perfecting of the process is apparent
in the fact that when anything is said for him to repeat, his head is not
turned away in unwillingness so often as before, in case the new word said
to him is too difficult, nor are all sorts of incoherent, complicated sounds
(paterateratte) given forth directly upon the first failure of the attempt at
imitation. Thus, the following words were at this period, without systematic
exercises, incidentally picked up (give, as before, the German pronunciation
to the letters):
Spoken to Reproduced. Spoken to Reproduced.
him. him.
Ohr, Oa(r). Wasser, Wass, Watja.
Tisch, Tiss. Hand, Hann.
Haus, Hausesess. Heiss, Haïss.
Hemd, Hem. Auge, Autschge.
Peitsche, Paitsch, Butter, Buotö.
Paitse.
Eimer, Aïma. Alle, Alla.
Bitte, Bete, Bite. Leier, Laijai.
Blatt, Batn. Mund, Munn.
Tuch, Tuhs. Finger, Finge.

Papier, Patn, Paï. Pferd, Pfowed,
Fowid.
Fort, Wott. Gute Nag-ch Na.
Nacht,
Vater, Fa-ata. Guten Tatách.
Tag,
Grete, Deete. Morgen, Moigjen.
Karl, Kara. Axel, Akkes, Aje, Eja
The four words, Paitsch or Paitse, Bite, Watja, and Haïss, are uttered now
and then by the child without being said to him, and their use has regard to
the meaning contained in them. His whip and his pail he learned to name
quickly and correctly. His own name, Axel, on the contrary, he designates
by the favorite interjections Aje, Eja. On the whole, variety of articulation is
on the increase as compared with the previous month, but the ability to put
syllables together into words is still but little developed. Thus, e. g., the
child reproduces quite correctly "je," and "ja," and "na." But if any one says
to him "Jena" or "Jana," the answer runs regularly nena or nana, and only
exceptionally, as if by chance, jena. Further, he repeats correctly the
syllables "bi" and "te" when they are given to him, and then also bi-te;
afterward, giving up the correct imitation, he says beti, but can not
reproduce ti-be or tebi. "Bett, Karre, Kuk," are correctly repeated.
Finally, echolalia, not observed of late, appears again. If the child hears
some one speak, he often repeats the last syllable of the sentence just
finished, if the accent were on it—e. g., "What said the man?" man; or
"Who is there?" there? "Nun?" (now) nou (no͞ o). Once the name "Willy"
was called. Immediately the child likewise called ŭilē, with the accent on
the last syllable, and repeated the call during an hour several dozens of
times; nay, even several days later he entertained himself with the
stereotyped repetition. Had not his first echo-play produced great
merriment, doubtless this monotonous repetition would not have been kept
up. In regard to the preference of one or another word the behavior of those
about the child is not merely influential, but is alone decisive. I observed
here, as I had done earlier, that urgent exhortations to repeat a new word
have generally a much worse result than is obtained by leaving the child to
himself. The correct, or at any rate the best, repetitions were those made

when the child was not spoken to. Even adults can imitate others in their
manner of speaking, their dialect, even their voice, much better when not
called upon to do it, but left entirely to their own inclination. The wish or
command of others generates an embarrassment which disturbs the course
of the motor processes. I resolved, consequently, to abandon in the
following month all attempts to induce the child to reproduce sounds, but to
observe so much the more closely what he might say of his own accord.
In the last month of the second year of his life this leaving of him to himself
proved fruitful in results to this extent—that voluntary sound-imitations
gained considerably in frequency and accuracy. Particularly, genuine
echolalia manifested itself more at this period in the repeating of the last
syllables of sentences heard, the meaning of which remained unintelligible
to the child; and of single words, the sense of which became gradually clear
to him by means of accompanying gestures. Thus, the word "Herein!"
(Come in!) was repeated as an empty sound, and then arein, harrein,
haarein, were shouted strenuously toward the door, when the child wanted
to be let in; ab (off) was uttered when a neck-ribbon was to be loosened.
Moigen signified "Guten Morgen!" na, "Gute Nacht!" To the question, "Was
thun wir morgen?" (What shall we do to-morrow?) comes the echo-answer
moigen. In general, by far the greater part of the word-imitations are much
distorted, to strangers often quite unintelligible. Ima and Imam mean
"Emma," dakkngaggngaggn again means "danke," and betti still continues
to signify "bitte." Only with the utmost pains, after the separate syllables
have been frequently pronounced, appear dange͞ e and bitte͞ e. An apple
(Apfel) is regularly named apfele͞ ele͞ e (from Apfelgelée); a biscuit
(Zwieback), wita, then wijak; butter, on the contrary, is often correctly
named. Instead of "Jawohl," the child almost invariably says wolja; for
"Licht" list and lists; for "Wasser," watja still as before; for "pfui" he
repeats, when he has been awkward, ūi, and often adds a pott or putt in
place of "caput." "Gut" is still pronounced ūt or tut, and "fort," okk or ott.
All the defects illustrated by these examples are owing rather to the lack of
flexibility in the apparatus of articulation—even stammering, tit-t-t-t, in
attempting to repeat "Tisch," appears—than to imperfect ability to
apprehend sounds. For the deficiency of articulation shows itself plainly
when a new word is properly used, but pronounced sometimes correctly and
sometimes incorrectly. Thus, the "tsch" hitherto not often achieved

(twentieth month), and the simple "sch" in witschi and wesch, both
signifying "Zwetschen," are imperfect, although both sounds were long ago
well understood as commands to be silent, and Zwetschen (plums) have
been long known to the child. Further, the inability to reproduce anything is
still expressed now and then by raterateratera; the failure to understand,
rather by a peculiar dazed expression of countenance, with an inquiring
look.
With regard to the independent application of all the words repeated, in part
correctly, in part with distortions, a multiplicity of meanings is especially
noteworthy in the separate expressions used by the child. The primitive
word atta, used with uncommon frequency, has now among others the
following significations: "I want to go; he is gone; she is not here; not yet
here; no longer here; there is nothing in it; there is no one there; it is empty;
it is nowhere; out there; go out." To the question "Where have you been?"
the child answers, on coming home, atta, and when he has drunk all there
was in the glass, he likewise says atta. The concept common to all the
interpretations adduced, "gone," seems to be the most comprehensive of all
that are at the child's disposal. If we choose to regard a word like this atta as
having the force of a whole sentence, we may note many such primitive
sentences in this month. Thus, mann means, on one occasion, "A man has
come," then almost every masculine figure is named mann; auff,
accompanied with the offering of a key, signifies the wish for the opening
of a box, and is cried with animation after vain attempts to open a watch.
The concepts "male being" and "open" are thus not only clear, but are
already named with the right words. The distinguishing of men from
women appears for months past very strikingly in this, that the former only
are greeted by reaching out the hand. The manifold meaning of a single
word used as a sentence is shown particularly in the cry of papa, with
gestures and looks corresponding to the different meanings of it. This one
word, when called out to his father, means (1) "Come play with me"; (2)
"Please lift me up"; (3) "Please give me that"; (4) "Help me get up on the
chair"; (5) "I can't," etc.
The greatest progress, however, is indicated by the combination of two
words into a sentence. The first sentence of this sort, spoken on the seven
hundred and seventh day of his life at the sight of the house that was his
home, was haim, mimi, i. e., "I would like to go home and drink milk." The

second was papa, mimi, and others were similar. Contrasted with these first
efforts at the framing of sentences, the earlier meaningless monologues play
only a subordinate part; they become, as if they were the remains of the
period of infancy, gradually rudimentary: thus, pipapapaï, breit, baraï. A
more important fact for the recognition of progress in speaking is that the
words are often confounded, e. g., watja and buotö (for butter). In gestures
also and in all sorts of performances there are bad cases of confusion almost
every day; e. g., the child tries to put on his shoes, holding them with the
heel-end to his toes, and takes hold of the can out of which he pours the
milk into his cup by the lip instead of the handle. He often affirms in place
of denying. His joy is, however, regularly expressed by loud laughing and
very high tones; his grief by an extraordinarily deep depression of the
angles of the mouth and by weeping. Quickly as this expression of
countenance may pass over into a cheerful one—often on a sudden, in
consequence of some new impression—no confusion of these two mimetic
movements takes place.
In the first month of the third year of life the progress is extraordinary, and
it is only in regard to the articulatory mechanism that no important new
actions are to be recorded. The child does not pronounce a perfect "u," or
only by chance. Generally the lips are not enough protruded, so that "u"
becomes "ou"; "Uhr" and "Ohr" often sound almost the same. The "i" also
is frequently mixed with other vowel-sounds, particularly with "e."
Probably the corners of the mouth are not drawn back sufficiently. With
these exceptions the vowels of the German language now offer hardly any
difficulties. Of the consonants, the "sch" and "cht" are often imperfect or
wanting. "Waschtisch" is regularly pronounced waztiz, and "Gute Nacht"
gna.

The sound-imitations of every kind are more manifold, eager, and skillful
than ever before. Once the child even made a serious attempt to reproduce
ten words spoken in close succession, but did not succeed. The attempt
proves all the same that the word-imitation is now far beyond the lower
echo-speech; yet he likes to repeat the last words and syllables of sentences
heard by him even in the following months. Here belongs his saying so
when any object is brought to the place appointed for it. When the
reproduction is defective, the child shows himself to be now much more
amenable to correction. He has become more teachable. At the beginning of
the month he used to say, when he wanted to sit, ette then etse, afterward
itse; but he does not yet in the present month say "setzen" or "sitzen."
Hitherto he could repeat correctly at the utmost two words said for him.
Now he repeats three, and once even four, imperfectly: papa, beene, delle,
means "Papa, Birne, Teller," and is uttered glibly; but "Papa, Birne, Teller,
bitte," or "Papa, Butter, bitte," is not yet repeated correctly, but pata, butte,
betti, and the like; only very seldom, in spite of almost daily trial, papa,
beene, delle, bittee.
Evidence of the progress of the memory, the understanding, and the
articulation, is furnished in the answers the child gave when I asked him, as
I touched various objects, "What is that?" He replied:
Autse, for Auge (eye) Hai, for Haar (hair).
Nana, " Nase (nose) Ulter, " Schulter (shoulder).
Ba, " Backe (back). Aam, " Arm (arm).
Baat, " Bart (beard). Ann, " Hand (hand).
Oë, Oa, " Ohr (ear). Wiër, " Finger (finger).
Opf, " Kopf (head) Daima, " Daumen (thumb).
Tenn, " Kinn (chin). Anu, " Handschuh (glove).
Täne, " Zähne (teeth). Baïn, " Bein (leg).
But not one word has the child himself invented. When a new expression
appears it may be surely traced to what has been heard, as uppe, oppee,
appee, appei, to "Suppe." The name alone by which he calls on his nurse,
wolá, seemed hard to explain. If any one says, "Call Mary," the child
invariably calls wolá. It is probable, as he used to call it wolja, that the
appellation has its origin in the often-heard "ja wohl."

The correct use of single words, picked up, one might say, at random,
increases in a surprising manner. Here belong baden, reiputtse, for
"Reissuppe," la-ock for "Schlafrock," boter for "Butter," Butterbrod, Uhr,
Buch, Billerbooch for "Bilderbuch." In what fashion such words now
incorporated into the child's vocabulary are employed is shown by the
following examples: Tul (for "Stuhl") means—(1) "I should like to be lifted
up on the chair; (2) My chair is gone; (3) I want this chair brought to the
table; (4) This chair doesn't stand right." If the chair or other familiar object
is broken, then it is still styled putt (for "caput," gone to smash); and if the
child has himself broken anything he scolds his own hand, and says oi or
oui, in place of "pfui" (fie)! He wants to write to his grandmother, and asks
for Papier, a daitipf (for "Bleistift," pencil), and says raiwe (for
"schreiben," write).
That misunderstandings occur in such beginnings of speech seems a matter
of course. All that I observed, however, were from the child's standpoint
rational. Some one says, "Schlag das Buch auf" (Open the book, but
meaning literally "Strike upon the book"), and the child strikes upon the
book with his hands without opening it. He does the same when one says,
"Schlag auf das Buch" (Strike upon the book). Or we say, "Will you come?
one, two!" and the child, without being able to count, answers, "Three,
four." He has merely had the sequence 1, 2, 3, 4, said over to him
frequently. But, on the whole, his understanding of words heard,
particularly of commands, has considerably advanced; and how far the
reasoning faculty has developed is now easily seen in his independent
designations for concepts. For example, since his delight at gifts of all sorts
on his birthday, he says burtsa (for Geburtstag, birthday) when he is
delighted by anything whatever. Another instance of childish induction was
the following: The child's hand being slightly hurt, he was told to blow on
his hand and it would be better. He did blow on his hand. In the afternoon
he hit his head against something, and he began at once to blow of his own
accord, supposing that the blowing would have a soothing effect, even
when it did not reach the injured part.
In the forming of sentences considerable progress is to be recorded. Yet
only once has the child joined more than four words in a sentence, and
rarely three. His sentences consisting of two words, which express a fact of
the present or of the immediate past, are often, perhaps generally, quite

unintelligible to strangers. Thus, danna kuha signifies "Aunt has given me
cake"; Kaffee naïn, "There is no coffee here"; and mama etsee or etse is
intelligible only by means of the accompanying gesture as the expression of
the wish, "Mamma, sit by me." Helle pumme signifies the wish to help
(helfen) in pumping, and is uttered at the sight of persons pumping water.
The following sentence consisting of five words is particularly
characteristic of this period, because it exhibits the first attempt to relate a
personal experience. The child dropped his milk-cup and related mimi atta
teppa papa oï, which meant "Milch fort [auf den] Teppich, Papa [sagte]
pfui." (Milk gone [on] carpet, Papa [said] "Fie!") The words adopted by the
child have often a very different meaning from that which they have in the
language of adults, being not entirely misunderstood but peculiarly
interpreted by the imitator. Thus, pronouns, which are not for a long time
yet understood in their true sense, signify objects themselves or their
qualities. Dein bett means "the large bed."
In the twenty-sixth month a large picture-book, with good colored pictures,
was shown to the child by me every day. Then he himself would point out
the separate objects represented, and those unknown to him were named to
him, and then the words were repeated by him. Thus were obtained the
following results:
Said to him. His imitation.
Blasebalg (bellows), ba-a-bats, blasabalitz.
Saugflasche (nursing- augflaze.
bottle),
Kanone (cannon), nanone.
Koffer (trunk), towwer, toffer, pfoffa, poffa, toff-
wa.
Fuchs (fox), fuhts.
Kaffeekanne (coffee-urn), taffeetanne, pfafee-tanne.
Frosch (frog), frotz.
Klingel (bell) linli (learned as ingeling and
linlin).
Besen (broom), bēsann, beedsen, beedsenn
Stiefel (boot), tiefel, stibbell, tihbell, tibl.

Nest (nest), netz.
Storch (stork), toich.
Giesskanne (watering- tietstanne, ihtstanne, ziesstanne.
pot),
Fisch (fish), fiz.
Zuckerhut (sugar-loaf), ukkahut.
Vogel (bird), wodal.
Kuchen (cake), tuche, tuchēn (hitherto kuha).
Licht (light), lihts, lits.
Schlitten (sled), lita, litta.
Tisch (table), tiss.
Nuss (nut), nuhuss, nuss.
Kaffeetopf (coffee-pot), poffee-topf.
Hund (dog), und.
Brief (letter), dief.
Elephant, elafant.
Fledermaus (bat), fleedermauz.
Kamm (comb), damm, lamm, namm.
Schwalbe (swallow), baubee.
Staar (starling), tahr.
Of his own accord the child pointed out with certainty in the picture-book—
häm, hä-em, for Helm (helmet).
hemm
hörz " Hirsch (stag).
tawell " Tafel (table).
lompee, " Lampe (lamp).
lampḗ
lotz " Schloss (castle).
benne " Birne (pear).
torb " Korb (basket).
onne-erm " Sonnenschirm
(parasol).
flatse " Flasche (bottle).

wetsa " Zwetschen
(plums).
clawelier " Clavier (piano).
littl, litzl, " Schlüssel (key).
lützl
löwee " löwe (lion).
ofa " Ofen (stove)
ūă " Uhr (watch).
tint, kint " Kind (child).
naninchä " Kaninchen
(rabbit).
manne " Pfanne (pan).
tomml, " Trommel (drum).
tromml
tuhl " Stuhl (chair).
With these words, the meaning of which the child knows well, though he
does not yet pronounce them perfectly, are to be ranked many more which
have not been taught him, but which he has himself appropriated Thus, tola
for Kohlen (coals), dals for Salz (salt). Other words spontaneously
appropriated are, however, already pronounced correctly and correctly used,
as Papier (paper), Holz (wood), Hut (hat), Wagen (carriage), Teppich
(carpet), Deckel (cover), Milch, Teller (often tellĕ, Frau, Mann, Mäuse.
These cases form the minority, and are striking in the midst of the manifold
mutilations which now constitute the child's speech. Of these mutilations
some are, even to his nearest relatives who are in company with the child
every day, unintelligible or only with great pains to be unriddled. Thus, the
child calls himself Attall instead of Axel; says also rräus Atsl for "heraus
Axel," i. e., "Axel wants to go out." He still says bita for "bitte," and often
mima or mami for Marie; apf for "Apfel." The numerous mutilations of the
words the child undertakes to speak are not all to be traced to defect of
articulation. The "sch" is already perfectly developed in Handschuh; and
yet in other words, as appears from the above examples, it is either simply
left out or has its place supplied by z and ss. Further, it sounds almost like
wantonness when frequently the surd consonant is put in place of the sonant
one or vice versa; when, e. g., puch (for Buch) pücherr is said on the one

hand, and wort instead of "fort" on the other. Here belongs likewise the
peculiar staccato manner of uttering the syllables, e. g., pil-ter-puch (Bilder-
buch—picture-book). At other times is heard a hasty billerbuch or
pillerpuch.
The babbling monologues have become infrequent and more of a play with
words and the syllables of them, e. g., in the frequently repeated papa-ŭ-á-
ŭa.
On the other hand, independent thoughts expressed by words are more and
more multiplied. Here is an example: The child had been extraordinarily
pleased by the Christmas-tree. The candles on it had been lighted for three
evenings. On the third evening, when only one of its many lights was
burning, the child could not leave it, but kept taking a position before it and
saying with earnest tone, gunná-itz-boum, i. e., "Gute nacht, Christbaum!"
The most of his sentences still consist of two words, one of which is often a
verb in the infinitive. Thus, helle mama, helle mami, i. e., "helfen (help)
Mama, Marie!" and bibak tommen, i. e., "der Zwieback soll kommen" (let
the biscuit come); or tsee machen (make c)—on the piano the keys c, d, e,
had often been touched separately by the little fingers accidentally, and the
applause when in response to the question, "Where is c?" the right key was
touched, excited the wish for repetition; roth, drün machen (make red or
green)—the child was instructed by me in the naming of colors; and dekkn
pilen, i. e., "Verstecken spielen" (play hide and seek). In quite short
narratives, too, the verbs appear in the infinitive only. Such accounts of
every-day occurrences—important to the child, however, through their
novelty—are in general falling into the background as compared with the
expression of his wishes in words as in the last-mentioned cases. Both kinds
of initiatory attempts at speaking testify more and more plainly to
awakening intellect, for, in order to use a noun together with a verb in such
a way as to correspond to a wish or to a fact experienced, there must be
added to the imitation of words heard and to the memory of them something
which adapts the sense of them to the outward experiences at the time and
the peculiar circumstances, and associates them with one another. This
something is the intellect. In proportion as it grows, the capacity for being
taught tricks decreases and the child is already ashamed to answer by means
of his former gestures the old questions, "Where is the little rogue?" "How
tall?" etc.

But how far from the intellect of the older child is that of the child now two
years and two months old appears from this fact, that the latter has not the
remotest notion of number. He repeats mechanically, many times over, the
words said for him, one, two, three, four, five; but when objects of the same
sort are put before him in groups, he confounds all the numbers with one
another in spite of countless attempts to bring the number 2 into firm
connection with the sound two, etc. Nor does he as yet understand the
meaning of the frequently repeated "danke" (thanks), for, when the child
has poured out milk for himself, he puts down the pitcher and says dankee.
One more remark is to be made about the names of animals. These names
are multiplying in this period, which is an important one in regard to the
genesis of mind. Ask, "What is the animal called?" and the answer runs,
mumu, kikeriki, bauwau, piep-piep, and others. No trace of onomatopoetic
attempts can be discovered here. The child has received the names
pronounced to him by his nurse and has retained them; just so hotto for
"Pferd" (horse), like lingeling for "Klingel" (bell). None the less every
healthy child has a strong inclination to onomatopeia. The cases already
reported prove the fact satisfactorily. The echolalia that still appears now
and then really belongs to this. Inasmuch as in general in every
onomatopoetic attempt we have to do with a sound-imitation or the
reproducing of the oscillations of the tympanum as nearly as possible by
means of the vocal cords, all attempts of the speechless child to speak are
ultimately of onomatopoetic character in the earliest period; but from the
present time on sound-imitation retires before the reasoning activity, which
is now shooting forth vigorously in the childish brain.
In the twenty-seventh month the activity of thought manifests itself already
in various ways. The independent ideas, indeed, move in a narrowly limited
sphere, but their increasing number testifies to the development of the
intellect. Some examples may be given:
The child sees a tall tree felled, and he says as it lies upon the ground, pick
up! Seeing a hole in a dressing-gown, he says, näĕn (sew)! In his play he
sometimes says to himself, dib acht (take care)! To the question, "Did it
taste good?" the child answers while still eating, mekk noch (schmeckt
noch), "It does taste good," thus distinguishing the past in the question from
the present. The development of observation and comparison is indicated

by the circumstance that salt is also called sand. On the other hand, the
feeling of gratitude is as yet quite undeveloped. The child, as in the
previous month, says dankee to himself when, e. g., he has opened his
wardrobe-door alone. The word is thus as yet unintelligible to him, or it is
used in the sense of "so" or "succeeded." His frequent expressions of pity
are striking. When dolls are cut out of paper, the child weeps violently in
the most pitiful manner, for fear that in the cutting a head (Topf) may be
taken off. This behavior calls to mind the cries of arme wiebak (armer
Zwieback—poor biscuit)! when a biscuit is divided, and arme holz (poor
wood)! when a stick of wood is thrown into the stove. Nobody has taught
the child anything of that sort.
The independent observations which he expresses correctly but very briefly
in a form akin to the style of the telegraphic dispatch are now numerous,
e. g.:
Tain milch: There is no milk here.
Lammee aus, lampee aus: The flame, the lamp, is gone out.
Dass la-okk: That is the dressing-gown (Schlafrock).
Diss nicht la-okk: This is not the dressing-gown.
His wishes the child expresses by means of verbs in the infinitive or of
substantives alone. Thus, papa auf-tehen (papa, get up), frü-tükken
(breakfast), aus-taigen (get out), nicht blasen (not blow—in building card-
houses), pieldose aufziehn (wind up the music-box), and biback (I should
like a biscuit). Into these sentences of one, two, and three words there come,
however, single adverbs not before used and indefinite pronouns, like ēēn
and ĕ in tann ēēn nicht or tannĕ nicht, for "kann er nicht" or "kann es
nicht." Butter drauf (butter on it), Mama auch tommen (mamma come, too),
noch mehr (more), blos Wasser (only water), hier (here), are the child's own
imperatives. Schon wieder (again) he does indeed say of his own accord on
fitting occasions; but here he is probably repeating mechanically what he
has heard. In all, the forming of a word that had not been heard as such, or
that had not come from what had been heard through mutilation, has been
surely proved in only a single instance. The child, viz., expressed the wish
(on his seven hundred and ninety-sixth day) to have an apple pared or cut

up, by means of the word messen. He knows a knife (Messer) and names it
rightly, and while he works at the apple with a fork or a spoon or anything
he can get hold of, or merely points at it with his hand, he says repeatedly
messen! Only after instruction did he say Messer neiden (mit dem Messer
schneiden—cut with the knife). Here for the first time a wholly new word is
formed. The concept and the word "knife" ("Messer") and the concept,
"work with the knife," were present, but the word "schneiden" (cut) for the
last was wanting, as also was "schälen" (pare). Hence, both in one were
named messen (for "messern," it may be). The two expressions that used to
be heard many times daily, the name wolà for the nurse Mima (Mary) and
atta, have now almost disappeared. Atta wesen for "draussen gewesen"
(been out) is still used, it is true, but only seldom. In place of it come now
weg, fort, aus, and allall, in the sense of "empty," "finished." The too
comprehensive, too indefinite concept atta has broken up into more limited
and more definite ones. It has become, as it were, differentiated, as in the
embryo the separate tissues are differentiated out of the previously
apparently homogeneous tissue.
In the period of rapid development now attained, the child daily surprises us
afresh by his independent applications of words just heard, although many
are not correctly applied, as tochen haiss (boiling hot), said not only of the
milk, but also of the fire.
When words clearly comprehended are used in a different sense from that in
which adults use them—incorrectly used, the latter would say—there is,
however, no illogical employment of them on the part of the child. For it is
always the fact, as in the last example, that the concept associated with the
word is taken in a more extended sense. The very young child infers a law
from a few, even from two observations, which present some agreement
only in one respect, and that perhaps a quite subordinate respect. He makes
inductions without deliberation. He has heard milk called "boiling hot," he
feels its warmth, and then feels the warmth of the stove, consequently the
stove also is "boiling hot"; and so in other cases. This logical activity, the
inductive process, now prevails. The once favorite monologues, pure,
meaningless exercises of articulation, of voice and of hearing, are, on the
contrary, falling off. The frequent repetition of the same syllable, also of the
same sentence (lampee aus), still survives particularly in animated
expressions of wish, erst essen (first eat), viel milch (much milk), mag-e-

nicht (don't like it). Desire for food and for playthings makes the child
loquacious, much more than dislike does, the latter being more easily
manifested by means of going away, turning around, turning away. The
child can even beg on behalf of his carved figures of animals and men.
Pointing out a puppet, he says tint aïn tikche apfl! Für das kind ein
Stückchen Apfel! (A bit of apple for the child.)
Notwithstanding these manifold signs of a use of words that is beginning to
be independent, the sound and word imitation continues to exist in enlarged
measure. Echolalia has never, perhaps, been more marked, the final words
of sentences heard being repeated with the regularity of a machine. If I say,
"Leg die Feder hin" (Lay the pen down)! there sounds in response a feder
hin. All sorts of tones and noises are imitated with varying success; even the
whistle of the locomotive, an object in which a passionate interest is
displayed; the voices of animals; so also German, French, Italian, and
English words. The French nasal "n" (in bon, orange), however—even in
the following months—as well as the English "th," in there (in spite of the
existence of the right formation in the fifteenth month), is not attained. The
child still laughs regularly when others laugh, and on his part excites
merriment through exact reproduction of separate fragments of a dialogue
that he does not understand, and that does not concern him; e. g., da hastn
(da hast Du ihn) (there you have him), or aha sistĕ (siehst Du) (do you see)?
or um Gottes willen (for God's sake), the accent in these cases being also
imitated with precision. But in his independent use of words the
accentuation varies in irregular fashion. Such an arbitrary variation is bitté
and bi-tĕ. Beti no longer appears.
As a noteworthy deficiency at this period is to be mentioned the feeble
memory for often-prescribed answers to certain questions. To the question
of a stranger, "What is your name?" the child for the first time gave of his
own accord the answer Attsell (Axel), on the eight hundred and tenth day of
his life. On the other hand, improper answers that have been seriously
censured remain fixed in his recollection. The impression is stronger here.
The weakness of memory is still shown most plainly when we try to make
intelligible to the child the numerals one to five. It is a failure. The sensuous
impression that one ball makes is so different from that which two balls
make, the given words one and two sound so differently, that we can not

help wondering how one and two, and likewise three, four, five, are
confounded with one another.
A question has not yet been uttered by the child. The frequent ist das
signifies merely "das ist," or it is the echo of the oft-heard question, "Was
ist das?" and is uttered without the tone of interrogation. The articles are not
used at all yet; at any rate, if used, they are merely imitated without
understanding.
The defects of articulation are now less striking, but only very slowly does
the correct and distinct pronunciation take the place of the erroneous and
indistinct. We still have regularly:
bücher-rank for Bücherschrank (book-
case).
fraï takkee " Fräulein Starke (Miss
Starke).
ērĕ, tseer " Schere (shears).
raïbĕ, " Schreiben (u. Zeichnen)
raiben (write or draw).
nur " Schnur (string).
neiderin " Schneiderin (tailoress).
dsön (also " schön (pretty).
schön)
lafen " schlafen (sleep).
pucken " spucken (spit).
dsehen (also " sehen (see).
sehen)
The sounds "sch" and "sch" in the "st" as well as in the "sp" ("schneiden,
Spiel") are often omitted without any substitute (naidă, taign, piel); more
seldom their place is supplied by "s," as in swer = "schwer" for "müde." Yet
ks, ts are often given with purity in bex, bux, Axl. The last word is often
pronounced Atsĕl and Atsli (heard by him as "Axeli"), very rarely Akkl; in
"Aufziehen" the "z" is almost always correctly reproduced. Further, we still
have

locotiwe for Locomotive. ann- for anknöpfen.
nepf
nepf " Knöpfe nits " nichts
(buttons). (nothing).
"Milch" is now permanently named correctly; no longer mimi, mich;
Wasser, wassa, no longer watja. But "gefährlich" is called fährlich;
"getrunken," trunken.
The twenty-eighth month is characterized by a rapid increase of activity in
the formation of ideas, on the one hand, and by considerably greater
certainty in the use of words, on the other. Ambition is developed and
makes itself known by a frequent laïnee (allein, alone). The child wants to
undertake all sorts of things without help. He asks for various objects
interesting to him, with the words Ding haben (have the thing). That the
faculty of observation and of combination is becoming perfected, is
indicated by the following: The child sees an ox at the slaughter-house and
says mumu (moo-moo); I add "todt" (dead); thereupon comes the response
mumu todt, and after a pause the child says, of his own accord, lachtett
(geschlachtet, slaughtered); then Blut heraus (blood out). The beginning of
self-control is perceived in this, that the child often recollects, of himself,
the strict commands he has received to refrain from this and that. Thus, he
had been accustomed to strike members of the family in fun, and this had
been forbidden him. Now, when the inclination seizes him still to strike, he
says emphatically nicht lagen (schlagen,—not strike), Axel brav (good). In
general the child names himself only by his name, which he also tells to
strangers without being asked. His parents, and these alone, are mostly
named Papa and Mama, but often also by their names.
The following is a proof of independent thinking while the understanding of
language is still imperfect: At breakfast I say, "Axel is breakfasting with
papa, is he not (nicht wahr)?" He replies earnestly, with genuine child-logic,
doch wahr (but he is)!
The earlier appellation swer and wer (schwer—heavy) for müde (tired) is
preserved. This transference, like the other one, locotiwe wassa trinkt, when
the engine is supplied with water, is the intellectual peculium of the child.
The number of such childish conceptions has now become very large. On

the other hand, the words independently formed out of what has been heard
are not numerous:
beisst for gebissen wesen for gewesen (been),
(bitten),
reit " geritten austrinkt " ausgetrunken
(ridden), (drunk up),
esst " gegessen tschulter " Schulter
(eaten), (shoulder),
must be considered as mutilations, not as new formations. The great number
of words correctly pronounced and used continues, on the other hand, to
increase. There are even decided attempts to use single prepositions: Nepfe
(Knöpfe) für Mama (buttons for mamma) may be simple repetition, like
Axel mit Papa; but as utterances of this kind were not formerly repeated by
him, though just as often made in his hearing, the understanding of the "für"
and "mit" must now be awakened. >From this time forth the understanding
of several prepositions and the correct use of them abide. In addition there
come into this period the first applications of the article. However often this
part of speech may have been reproduced from the speech of others, it has
never been said with understanding; but now in the expressions um'n Hals
and für'm Axel (around the neck and for (the) Axel) there lies the beginning
of right use of the article, and, indeed, also in the months immediately
succeeding, almost solely of the definite article.
But more significant psychogenetically than all progress of this kind in the
manipulation of language is the questioning that becomes active in this
month. Although I paid special attention to this point from the beginning, I
first heard the child ask a question of his own accord on the eight hundred
and forty-fifth day of his life. He asked, "Where is Mima?" From that time
on questions were more frequent; but in the time immediately following this
his question was always one relating to something in space. The word
"Where?" continued for a long time to be his only interrogative. He has also
for a long time understood the "Where?" when he heard it. If, e. g., I asked,
"Where is the nose?" without giving any hint by look or otherwise, this
question has for months past been correctly answered by a movement of the
child's arm to his nose. It is true that my question, "What is that?" a much

more frequent one, is likewise answered correctly, although the word
"What?" has never been used by the child.
His cleverness in reproducing even foreign expressions is surprising. The
words pronounced for him by Italians (during a pretty long sojourn on Lake
Garda), e. g., uno, due, tre, are given back without the least German accent.
"Quattro," to be sure, became wattro, but ancora piccolo was absolutely
pure. The imitation of the marching of soldiers, with the frequent cry
batelón eins sŭai (battalion, one, two), already gives him the greatest
pleasure. The imagination that is active in it is to be discerned, however,
rather in gestures than in words. How lively the child's power of
imagination is appears also in the fact that flat figures rudely cut out of
newspaper, to represent glasses and cups, are carried to the mouth like real
ones.
The articulation has again become a little more perfected, but in many
respects it is still a good deal deficient; thus, in regard to the "sch," he says:
abneiden for abschneiden (cut off).
hirn " Stirn (forehead).
verbrochen " versprochen (promised).
lagn " schlagen (strike).
runtergeluckt " heruntergeschluckt
(swallowed).
einteign " einsteigen (get in).
On the other hand, aus-teign (Aussteigen)
(alight).
Other defects of articulation are shown by the following examples:
topf for klopfen (knock).
üffte " lüften (take the air).
leben " kleben (adhere).
viloa, viloja, " Viola.
dummi " Gummi (gum).
The l mouillé can not be at all successfully given at the beginning of this
month (batĕlōn for "bataillon"), and the nasal sounds in "orange" and

"salon" offer insuperable difficulties (up to the second half of the fourth
year). At the end of this month, however, I heard a ganzee bataljohn (j like
English y). "Orange" continued to be, after oraanjee had been given up,
orohsĕ. The softening (mouilliren—nj = ñ) was inconvenient in this case.
Quite correctly named at this period were eye, nose, cheek, tongue, mouth,
ear, beard, hair, arm, thumb, finger.
Meaningless chatter has become much more rare. On the other hand, the
child is in the habit of making all sorts of remarks, especially in the
morning early after waking, for a quarter of an hour at a time and longer
without interruption, these remarks for the most part consisting of a noun
and verb and relating to objects immediately about him. Monologues also
are given in a singing voice, syllables without meaning, often a regular
singing, the child meantime running many times around the table; besides,
his strong voice is not seldom practiced in producing high tones without
any outward occasion; and, finally, it is worthy of note that sometimes in
sleep, evidently when the child has a vivid dream, a scream is uttered.
Talking in his sleep first appeared in his fourth year.
The greatest advance in the twenty-ninth month consists in the employment
of the personal pronoun in place of his own name: bitte gib mir Brod
(please give me bread) was the first sentence in which it appeared. "Ich" (I)
is not yet said, but if I ask "Who is 'me'?" then the child names himself with
his own name, as he does in general. Through this employment, more and
more frequent from this time forth, of the pronoun instead of the proper
name, is gradually introduced the inflection of the verbs he has heard; but at
this time the imperative has its place generally supplied by the infinitive:
Păpă sāgn and Ssooss sitzen. Sentences composed by himself, or heard and
then used by him, like das meckt (schmeckt) sehr gut (that tastes very
good), are rare; yet the discrimination between regular and irregular verbs
has already begun to be made. To be sure, the question "Where have you
been?" is answered with paziren gegeht (goed to walk), and ausgezieht is
said for ausgezogen (drawed out), also geseht (seed) instead of gesehen
(seen); but at the same time frequently eingetigen and ausgetigen, instead of
ein- and aus-geteigt. An interesting, rare misformation was grefessen for
"gefressen." The verbs most frequently used seem to be "haben" (have) and
"kommen" (come), and the forms "hat" and "kommt" are indeed correctly

used sometimes, e. g., viel Rauch kommt heraus (much smoke comes out),
and gleich kommt Kaffee (the coffee is coming). While the infinitives
"haben" and "kommen" are uttered several times a day, the infinitive "sein"
(to be) is never heard; but of this auxiliary verb "ist" and "wesen" are used,
the latter for "gewesen." In every instance where the child expresses a
desire by means of a verb, he simply takes the infinitive; e. g., he hears, as
he sits in the room, the noise of the railway-train at a distance, and he says,
Locotiwe sehen.
Further, numbering begins to be active to a noteworthy degree. Although
the numerals are already well known to the child, he still confounds them
on all occasions, and in view of the absolute failure of the many attempts to
teach the child the significance of the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, one might infer
that he has not yet perceived the difference between, e. g., 3 matches and 4
matches; yet counting is already taking place, though in very unexpected
fashion. The child began, viz., on the eight hundred and seventy-eighth day,
suddenly, of his own accord entirely, to count with his nine-pins, putting
them in a row, saying with each one, eins (one)! eins! eins! eins! afterward
saying eins! noch eins (one more)! noch eins! noch eins! The process of
adding is thus performed without the naming of the sums.
The questioning that appeared in the previous month, the surest sign of
independent thought in the child, is somewhat more plainly manifest; but
"Where" alone serves as the interrogative word, and that in its proper sense:
Where is hat? "Which, who, why, when" are not spoken by the child and
doubtless not understood, for, although succession in time is in many cases
clear to him ("first eat," "then," "now"), yet in many other cases he does not
know how to express distinctions of time; just as in comparing many and
few, large and small objects, the quantity is wrongly given. Thus he says
correctly, when many counters are to be brought together, Zuviel (too
many), but says Zuviel wrongly for Zuwenig (too little) when there is too
little butter on his bread. In this case the Zuviel (too much) sounds almost
like irony, which, of course, is out of the question at his age. "Too much"
and "too little" are confounded in the same way as 5 and 2. Yet, in another
respect the memory has made a considerable gain. Expressions long since
forgotten by those about the child are suddenly without assignable occasion
sometimes uttered again with perfect distinctness, and the child even
applies fitly what he has observed. Thus, he brings matches when he sees

that some one wants to light a candle. I say to him, "Pick up the bread-
crumbs." Upon this the child comes forward, though very slowly, cries out
suddenly, Get broom, recollecting that he has seen the carpet swept, goes
and gets the broom, and sweeps the crumbs away. His memory for the
utterances of animals as they have been made for him is very good. If I ask,
e. g., "What does the duck say?" the answer is Kuak kuak. He has gained
also in certainty in naming the separate parts of a drawing, especially of a
locomotive, so that one chief condition of speech, in the full sense of the
word—memory—may be said to be well developed.
Articulation, on the contrary, makes slow progress. "Hirsch" is called Hirss,
"Schwalbe" Walbe, "Flasche" Flassee. The following are generally correctly
pronounced: Treppe, Fenster, Krug, Kraut, Kuchen, Helm, Besen, Cigarre,
Hut, Giesskanne, Dinte, Buch, Birne. For "barometer, thermometer," he
says mometer, for "Schrauben" raubn, for "frühstücken" (to breakfast) still
often fri-ticken.
In the thirtieth month the independent activity of thought develops more
and more. When the child is playing by himself, e. g., he often says to
himself: Eimerchen ausleeren (make pail empty); Hackemesser (chopping-
knife). Thus his small vocabulary serves him at any rate for making clear
his own ideas. Already his thinking is often a low speaking, yet only in part.
When language fails him, he first considers well. An example: The child
finds it very difficult to turn crosswise or lengthwise one of the nine-pins
which he wants to put into its box, and when I say, "Round the other way!"
he turns it around in such a way that it comes to lie as it did at the
beginning, wrongly. He also pushes the broad side of the cover against the
small end of the box. The child evidently understands the expression
"Round the other way"; but as the expression is ambiguous (the head of the
nine-pin may go to the left, to the right, up, down, back, forward), we can
understand that the pin should be turned now one way and again another
way, and even brought back to its original position. Then appears the child's
own deliberation without words—without any speaking at all, low or loud
—until after frequently repeated packing and unpacking hardly any
hesitation is shown. Many utterances show how easily at this period objects
that have only a slight resemblance to one another or only a few qualities in
common are included in one concept. When a roasted apple is peeled, the
child sees the peel and says (thinking of his boiled milk, which he saw

several hours previous, but which is not now present), Milch auch Haut
(milk skin too). Similar is the expression Kirche läutet (church rings) when
the tower-clock strikes.
The child forms concepts which comprehend a few qualities in unity, and
indeed without designating the concept always by a particular word,
whereas the developed understanding more and more forms concepts with
many qualities and designates them by words. Hence the concepts of the
child have less content and more extent than those of adults. For this reason
they are less distinct also, and are often ephemeral, since they break up into
narrower, more distinct concepts; but they always testify to activity of
thought.
A greater intellectual advance, however, is manifested at this time in the
first intentional use of language in order to bring on a game of hide-and-
seek. A key falls to the floor. The child picks it up quickly, holds it behind
him, and to my question, "Where is the key?" answers nicht mehr da (no
longer there). As I found in the following months no falsehood, in the
proper sense of the word, to record, but rather that the least error, the most
trivial exaggeration, was corrected at once by the child himself, with
peculiarly naïve seriousness, in a little story, with pauses between the
separate words, so, too, in the present case the answer nicht mehr da is no
falsehood, but is to be understood as meaning that the key is no longer to be
seen. The expression of the face was roguish at the time.
The sole interrogative word continues still to be "Where?" e. g., Where is
ball? The demonstratives da (there) and dort (yonder) (dort ist nass—wet)
were more frequently spoken correctly in answer.
The "I" in place of his own name does not yet appear, because this word
does not occur frequently enough in conversation with the child. The bad
custom adults have of designating themselves in their talk with little
children, not as in ordinary conversation by the word "I," but by the proper
name, or as "aunt," "grandma," etc., postpones the time of saying "I" on the
part of children. Me is pretty often used at this period, for the reason that it
is frequently heard at meal-times in "Give me!"
Bitte, liebe Mama, gib mir mehr Suppe (Please, dear mamma, give me more
soup) is, to be sure, learned by heart; but such sentences are at the proper

time and in the proper place modified and even independently applied.
Noch mehr, immer noch mehr, vielleicht, fast (more, more yet, perhaps,
almost), are also expressions often properly employed, the last two,
however, with uncertainty still. Fast gefallen (almost fell) the child says
when he has actually fallen down.
Although declension and conjugation are as yet absolutely lacking, a
transition has become established from the worst form of dysgrammatism to
the beginning of correct diction by means of the more frequent use of the
plural in nouns (Rad, Räder), the more frequent employment of the article
(för dĕ Papa), the not very rare strong inflection (gegangen instead of the
earlier gegeht; genommen instead of the earlier genehmt). To be sure, the
infinitive still stands in the place of the participle and the imperative in by
far the great majority of cases. The auxiliaries are often omitted or
employed in strange misformations, e. g., "Where have you been?" Answer,
paziren gewarent [something like they wented 'alk] (wir waren spazieren,
spazieren gewesen).
In articulation no perceptible progress is to be recorded. The objects known
from the picture-book are indeed for the most part rightly named, but new
ones often have their names very much distorted—e. g., "Violine" is
persistently called wiloïne. The "sch" is occasionally given correctly, but s-
trümpfe, auf-s-tehen is the rule. The answer that has been learned to the
question, "How old are you?" "Seit November zwei Jahre," is given wember
wai jahr. The way in which the child learns the correct pronunciation is in
general twofold: 1. Through frequent hearing of the correct words, since no
one speaks as he himself does; thus, e. g., genommen took the place of
genehmt without instruction. 2. Through having the words frequently
pronounced on purpose for him to imitate with the utmost attention. Thus,
e. g., the child up to this time always said Locotiwe and Locopotiwe. I
exhorted him a few times earnestly to say "Locomotive." The result was
Loco-loco-loco-mo-tiwe, and then Locomotiwe, with exact copying of the
accent with which I spoke. Singing also is imitated.
His memory for words that denote objects is very good; but when
expressions designating something not very apparent to the senses are to be
learned, he easily fails. Thus, the left and the right foot or arm, the left and
the right cheek or hand, are very often correctly named, but often falsely.

The difference between left and right can not be exactly described,
explained, or made imaginable to the child.
In the thirty-first month two new questions make their appearance: The
child asks, Welches Papier nehmen? (What paper take?) after he has
obtained permission to make marks with the pencil, i. e., to raiben (write
and draw), and Was kost die Trommel? (What does the drum cost?)
Now the indefinite article appears oftener; it is distinctly audible in Halt n
biss-chen Wasser! More surprising are individual new formations, which
disappear, however, soon after their rise; thus, the comparative of "hoch."
The child says with perfect distinctness hocher bauen (build higher) in
playing with wooden blocks; he thus forms of himself the most natural
comparative, like the participle gegebt for "gegeben." In place of "Uhr-
schlüssel" (watch-key) he says Slüssl-Uhr (key-watch), thus placing the
principal thing first.
He makes use of the strange expression heitgestern in place of "heute" (to-
day), and in place of "gestern" (yesterday). The two latter taken singly are
confounded with each other for a long time yet.
Sentence-forming is still very imperfect: is smoke means "that is smoke"
and "there is smoke"; and kommt Locomotiwe stands for "da kommt eine
oder die Locomotive" (There comes a, or the, engine). At sight of the bath-
tub, however, the child says six times in quick succession Da kommt kalt
Wasser rein, Marie (Cold water is to go in here, Mary). He frequently
makes remarks on matters of fact, e. g., warm out there. If he has broken a
flower-pot, a bandbox, a glass, he says regularly, of his own accord,
Frederick glue again, and he reports faithfully every little fault to his
parents. But when a plaything or an object interesting to him vexes him, he
says, peevishly, stupid thing, e. g., to the carpet, which he can not lift; and
he does not linger long over one play. His occupation must be changed very
often.
The imitations are now again becoming less frequent than in the past
months, and expressions not understood are repeated rather for the
amusement of the family than unconsciously; thus, Ach Gott (Oh God!) and
wirklich grossartig (truly grand). Yet the child sometimes sings in his sleep,
several seconds at a time, evidently dreaming.

The pronunciation of the "sch," even in the favorite succession of words,
Ganzes Batalljohn marss (for "marsch") eins, zwei, is imperfect, and
although no person of those about him pronounces the "st" in "Stall, stehen"
otherwise than as "scht," the child keeps persistently to S-tall, s-tehen. The
pronunciation "scht" began in the last six months of the fourth year of his
life, and in the forty-sixth month it completely crowded out the "st," which
seems the more remarkable as the child was taken care of by a Mecklenburg
woman from the beginning of the fourth year.
In the thirty-second month the "I" began to displace his own name. Mir (gib
mir) and mich (bitte heb mich herauf, please lift me up) had already
appeared in the twenty-ninth to the thirty-first month; ich komme gleich,
Geld möcht ich haben (I am coming directly, I should like money), are new
acquirements. If he is asked "Who is I?" the answer is, der Axel. But he still
speaks in the third person frequently; e. g., the child says, speaking of
himself, da ist er wieder (here he is again), Axel auch haben (Axel have,
too), and mag-ĕ nicht, thus designating himself at this period in fourfold
fashion, by I, he, Axel, and by the omission of all pronouns and names.
Although bitte setz mich auf den Stuhl (Please put me on the chair) is
learned from hearing it said for him, yet the correct application of the
sentence, which he makes of himself daily from this time on, must be
regarded as an important advance. The same is true of the forming of
clauses, which is now beginning to take place, as in Weiss nicht, wo es ist
(Don't know where it is). New also is the separation of the particle in
compound verbs, as in fällt immer um (keeps tumbling over).
Longer and longer names and sentences are spoken with perfect
distinctness, but the influence of the dialect of the neighborhood is
occasionally perceptible. His nurse is the one who talks most with him. She
is from the Schwarzwald, and from her comes the omission of the "n" at the
end of words, as in Kännche, trocke. Besides, the confounding of the surd,
"p," with the sonant, "b" (putter), is so frequent that it may well be taken
from the Thuringian dialect, like the confounding of "eu" and "ei" (heit).
The only German sounds that still present great difficulties are "sch" and
"chts" (in "nichts").
The memory of the child has indeed improved, but it has become somewhat
fastidious. Only that which seems interesting and intelligible to the child

impresses itself permanently; on the other hand, useless and unintelligible
verses learned by rote, that persons have taught him, though seldom, for
fun, are forgotten after a few days.
In the thirty-third month the strength of memory already mentioned for
certain experiences shows itself in many characteristic remarks. Thus the
child, again absent from home with his parents for some weeks, says almost
every evening, gleich blasen die Soldaten (the soldiers, i. e., the band, will
play directly), although no soldier is to be seen in the country far and wide.
But at home the music was actually to be heard every evening.
At sight of a cock in his picture-book the child says, slowly, Das ist der
Hahn—kommt immer—das ganze Stück fortnehmt—von der Hand—und
laüft fort ("That is the cock—keeps coming—takes away the whole piece—
out of the hand—and runs off"). This narrative—the longest yet given, by
the way—has reference to the feeding of the fowls, on which occasion the
cock had really carried off a piece of bread. The doings of animals in
general excited the attention of the child greatly. He is capable even of
forgetting to eat, in order to observe assiduously the movements of a fly.
Jetzt geht in die Zeitung—geht in die Milch! Fort Thier! Geh fort! Unter
den Kaffee! (Now he is going into the newspaper—going into the milk!
Away, creature! go away! into the coffee!) His interest is very keen for other
moving objects also, particularly locomotives.
How little clearness there is in his conceptions of animal and machine,
however, appears from the fact that both are addressed in the same way.
When his father's brother comes, the child says, turning to his father, neuer
(new) Papa; he has not, therefore, the slightest idea of that which the word
"father" signifies. Naturally he can have none. Yet selfhood (Ichheit) has
come forth at this period in considerably sharper manifestation. He cries,
Das Ding haben! das will ich, das will ich, das will ich, das Spiel möcht ich
haben! (Have the thing! I want it, I should like the game.) To be sure, when
one says "komm, ich knöpfs dir zu" (come, I will button it for you), the
child comes, and says, as an echo, ich knöpfs dir zu (I will button it for
you), evidently meaning, "Button it for me"! He also confounds zu viel (too
much) with zu wenig (too little), nie (never) with immer (always), heute (to-
day) with gestern (yesterday); on the contrary, the words und, sondern,
noch, mehr, nur, bis, wo (and, but, still, more, only, till, where) are always

used correctly. The most striking mistakes are those of conjugation, which
is still quite erroneous (e. g., getrinkt and getrunkt along with getrunken),
and of articulation, the "sch" (dsen for "schön") being only seldom pure,
mostly given as "s" or "ts." "Toast" is called Toos and Dose.
After the first thousand days of his life had passed, the observation of him
was continued daily, but not the record in writing. Some particulars
belonging to the following months may be noted:
Many expressions accidentally heard by the child that excited the
merriment of the family when once repeated by him, were rehearsed times
without number in a laughing, roguish, obtrusive manner, thus, du liebe
Zeit. The child also calls out the name of his nurse, Marie, often without
meaning, over and over again, even in the night. He calls others also by this
name in manifest distraction of mind, often making the correction himself
when he perceives the mistake.
More and more seldom does the child speak of himself in the third person,
and then he calls himself by his name, never saying "he" any more. Usually
he speaks of himself as "I," especially "I will, I will have that, I can not."
Gradually, too, he uses Du in address, e. g., Was für hübsen Rock hast Du
(What a handsome coat you have)! Here the manner of using the "Was" is
also new.
On the ten hundred and twenty-eighth day warum (why?) was first used in a
question. I was watching with the closest attention for the first appearance
of this word. The sentence ran, Warum nach Hause gehen? ich will nicht
nach Hause (Why go home? I don't want to go home). When a wheel
creaked on the carriage, the child asked, Was macht nur so (What makes
that)? Both questions show that at last the instinct of causality, which
manifested itself more than a year before in a kind of activity of inquiry, in
experimenting, and even earlier (in the twelfth week) in giving attention to
things, is expressed in language; but the questioning is often repeated in a
senseless way till it reaches the point of weariness. Warum wird das Holz
gesnitten? (for "gesägt"—Why is the wood sawed?) Warum macht der
Frödrich die [Blumen] Töpfe rein? (Why does Frederick clean the flower-
pots?) are examples of childish questions, which when they receive an
answer, and indeed whatever answer, are followed by fresh questions just as

idle (from the standpoint of adults); but they testify plainly to a far-reaching
independent activity of thought. So with the frequent question, Wie macht
man das nur? (How is that done?)
It is to be said, further, that I found the endeavor impracticable to ascertain
the order of succession in which the child uses the different interrogative
words. It depends wholly on the company about him at what time first this
or that turn of expression or question is repeated and then used
independently. "Why" is heard by him, as a rule, less often than "What?"
and "How?" and "Which?" Still, it seems remarkable that I did not once
hear the child say "When?" until the close of the third year. The sense of
space is, to be sure, but little developed at that time, but the sense of time
still less. The use of the word "forgotten" (ich habe vergessen) and of "I
shall" (do this or that) is exceedingly rare.
The articulation was speedily perfected; yet there was no success at all in
the repetition of French nasal sounds. In spite of much pains "salon"
remained salo, "orange" orose; and the French "je" also presented
insuperable difficulties. Of German sounds, "sch" alone was seldom correct.
It was still represented by s; for example, in sloss for "Schloss," ssooss for
"Schooss."
His fondness for singing increases, and indeed all sorts of meaningless
syllables are repeated with pleasure again and again, much as in the period
of infancy, only more distinctly; but, just as at that time, they can not all be
represented on paper or even be correctly reproduced by adults. For a
considerable time he was fond of ē-la, ē-la, la, la, la, la, in higher and
higher pitch, and with unequal intervals, lálla-lálla, lilalula. In this it was
certainly more the joy over the increasing compass and power of his voice
that stimulated him to repetition than it was the sound of the syllables; yet
in the thirty-sixth month he showed great pleasure in his singing, of which
peculiar, though not very pleasing, melodies were characteristic. The
singing over of songs sung to him was but very imperfectly successful. On
the other hand, the copying of the manner of speaking, of accent, cadence,
and ring of the voices of adults was surprising, although echolalia proper
almost ceased or appeared again only from time to time.

Grammatical errors are already becoming more rare. A stubborn fault in
declension is the putting of am in place of dem and der, e. g., das am Mama
geben. Long sentences are formed correctly, but slowly and with pauses,
without errors, e. g., die Blume—ist ganz durstig—möcht auch n bischen
Wasser haben (The flower is quite thirsty—would like a little water). If I
ask now, "From whom have you learned that?" the answer comes regularly,
das hab ich alleine gelernt (I learned it alone). In general the child wants to
manage for himself without assistance, to pull, push, mount, climb, water
flowers, crying out repeatedly and passionately, ich möcht ganz alleine (I
want to [do it] all alone). In spite of this independence and these ambitious
inclinations, there seldom appears an invention of his own in language.
Here belongs, e. g., the remark of the child, das Bett ist zu holzhart (the bed
is too wooden-hard), after having hit himself against the bed-post. Further,
to the question, "Do you like to sleep in the large room?" he answered, O ja
ganz lieberich gern; and when I asked, "Who, pray, speaks so?" the answer
came very slowly, with deliberation and with pauses, nicht-nicht-nicht-
nicht-nicht-niemand (not—nobody).
How far advanced is the use of the participles, which are hard to master, is
shown by the sentence, die Milch ist schon heiss gemacht worden (the milk
has already been made hot).
The child's manner of speaking when he was three years old approximated
more and more rapidly to that of the family through continued listening to
them and imitation of them, so that I gave up recording it; besides, the
abundant—some may think too abundant—material already presented
supplies facts enough to support the foundations of the history of the
development of speech in the child as I have attempted to set it forth. A
systematic, thorough-going investigation requires the combined labor of
many, who must all strive to answer the same questions—questions which
in this chronological survey are, in regard to one single individual, in part
answered, but in part could merely be proposed.
To observe the child every day during the first thousand days of his life, in
order to trace the historical development of speech, was possible only
through self-control, much patience, and great expenditure of time; but such
observations are necessary, from the physiological, the psychological, the

linguistic, and the pedagogic point of view, and nothing can supply their
place.
In order to secure for them the highest degree of trustworthiness, I have
adhered strictly, without exception, to the following rules:
1. I have not adopted a single observation of the accuracy of which I was
not myself most positively convinced. Least of all can one rely on the
reports of nurses, attendants, and other persons not practiced in scientific
observing. I have often, merely by a brief, quiet cross-examination, brought
such persons to see for themselves the erroneous character of their
statements, particularly in case these were made in order to prove how
"knowing" the infants were. On the other hand, I owe to the mother of my
child, who has by nature a talent for observation such as is given to few, a
great many communications concerning his mental development which
have been easily verified by myself.
2. Every observation must immediately be entered in writing in a diary that
is always lying ready. If this is not done, details of the observations are
often forgotten; a thing easily conceivable, because these details in
themselves are in many ways uninteresting—especially the meaningless
articulations—and they acquire value only in connection with others.
3. In conducting the observations every artificial strain upon the child is to
be avoided, and the effort is to be made as often as possible to observe
without the child's noticing the observer at all.
4. All training of the one-year-old and of the two-year-old child must be, so
far as possible, prevented. I have in this respect been so far successful that
my child was not until late acquainted with such tricks as children are
taught, and was not vexed with the learning by heart of songs, etc., which
he was not capable of understanding. Still, as the record shows, not all
unnecessary training could be avoided. The earlier a little child is
constrained to perform ceremonious and other conventional actions, the
meaning of which is unknown to him, so much the earlier does he lose the
poetic naturalness which, at any rate, is but brief and never comes again;
and so much the more difficult becomes the observation of his
unadulterated mental development.

5. Every interruption of one's observation for more than a day demands the
substitution of another observer, and, after taking up the work again, a
verification of what has been perceived and noted down in the interval.
6. Three times, at least, every day the same child is to be observed, and
everything incidentally noticed is to be put upon paper, no less than that
which is methodically ascertained with reference to definite questions.
In accordance with these directions, tested by myself, all my own
observations in this book, and particularly those of this chapter, were
conducted. Comparison with the statements of others can alone give them a
general importance.
What has been furnished by earlier observers in regard to children's learning
to speak is, however, not extensive. I have collected some data in an
appendix.

CHAPTER XIX.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE FEELING OF SELF, THE
"I"-FEELING.

Before the child is in a condition to recognize as belonging to him the parts
of his body that he can feel and see, he must have had a great number of
experiences, which are for the most part associated with painful feelings.
How little is gained for the development of the notion of the "I" by means
of the first movements of the hands, which the infant early carries to the
mouth, and which must give him, when he sucks them, a different feeling
from that given by sucking the finger of another person, or other suitable
objects, appears from the fact that, e. g., my child for months tugged at his
fingers as if he wanted to pull them off, and struck his own head with his
hand by way of experiment. At the close of the first year he had a fancy for
striking hard substances against his teeth, and made a regular play of
gnashing the teeth. When on the four hundred and ninth day he stood up
straight in bed, holding on to the railing of it with his hands, he bit himself
on his bare arm, and that the upper arm, so that he immediately cried out
with pain. The marks of the incisors were to be seen long afterward. The
child did not a second time bite himself in the arm, but only bit his fingers,
and inadvertently his tongue.
The same child, who likes to hold a biscuit to the mouth of any member of
the family to whom he is favorably disposed, offered the biscuit in the same
way, entirely of his own accord, to his own foot—sitting on the floor,
holding the biscuit in a waiting attitude to his toes—and this strange freak
was repeated many times in the twenty-third month. The child amused
himself with it.
Thus, at a time when the attention to what is around is already very far
developed, one's own person may not be distinguished from the

environment. Vierordt thinks that a discrimination between the general
feelings [i. e., those caused by bodily states] and the sensations that pertain
to the external world exists in the third month. From my observations I can
not agree with him; for, although the division may begin thus early, yet it
does not become complete until much later. In the ninth month the feet are
still eagerly felt of by the little hands, though not so eagerly as before, and
the toes are carried to the mouth like a new plaything. Nay, even in the
nineteenth month it is not yet clear how much belongs to one's own body.
The child had lost a shoe. I said, "Give the shoe." He stooped, seized it, and
gave it to me. Then, when I said to the child, as he was standing upright on
the floor, "Give the foot," in the expectation that he would hold it out,
stretch it toward me, he grasped at it with both hands, and labored hard to
get it and hand it to me.
How little he understands, even after the first year of his life has passed, the
difference between the parts of his own body and foreign objects is shown
also in some strange experiments that the child conducted quite
independently. He sits by me at the table and strikes very often and rapidly
with his hands successive blows upon the table, at first gently, then hard;
then, with the right hand alone, hard; next, suddenly strikes himself with the
same hand on the mouth; then he holds his hand to his mouth for a while,
strikes the table again with the right hand, and then on a sudden strikes his
own head (above the ear). The whole performance gave exactly the
impression of his having for the first time noticed that it is one thing to
strike oneself, one's own hard head, and another thing to strike a foreign
hard object (forty-first week). Even in the thirteenth month the child often
raps his head with his hand to try the effect, and seems surprised at the
hardness of the head. In the sixteenth month he used not unfrequently to set
the left thumb against the left side of the head, and at the same time the
right thumb against the right side of the head, above the ears, with the
fingers spread, and to push at the same time, putting on a strange,
wondering expression of face, with wide-open eyes. This movement is not
imitated and not inherited, but invented. The child is doubtless making
experiments by means of it upon the holding of the head, head-shaking,
resistance of his own body, perhaps also upon the management of the head,
as at every thump of the thumbs against the temporal bones a dull sound
was heard. The objectivity of the fingers was found out not much before

this time by involuntary, painful biting of them, for as late as the fifteenth
month the child bit his finger so that he cried out with pain. Pain is the most
efficient teacher in the learning of the difference between subjective and
objective.
Another important factor is the perception of a change produced by ones
own activity in all sorts of familiar objects that can be taken hold of in the
neighborhood; and the most remarkable day, from a psychogenetic point of
view, in any case an extremely significant day in the life of the infant, is the
one in which he first experiences the connection of a movement executed by
himself with a sense-impression following upon it. The noise that comes
from the tearing and crumpling of paper is as yet unknown to the child. He
discovers (in the fifth month) the fact that he himself in tearing paper into
smaller and smaller pieces has again and again the new sound-sensation,
and he repeats the experiment day by day and with a strain of exertion until
this connection has lost the charm of novelty. At present there is not,
indeed, as yet any clear insight into the nexus of cause; but the child has
now had the experience that he can himself be the cause of a combined
perception of sight and sound regularly, to the extent that when he tears
paper there appears, on the one hand, the lessening in size; on the other
hand, the noise. The patience with which this occupation—from the forty-
fifth to the fifty-fifth week especially—is continued with pleasure is
explained by the gratification at being a cause, at the perception that so
striking a transformation as that of the newspaper into fragments has been
effected by means of his own activity. Other occupations of this sort, which
are taken up again and again with a persistency incomprehensible to an
adult, are the shaking of a bunch of keys, the opening and closing of a box
or purse (thirteenth month); the pulling out and emptying, and then the
filling and pushing in, of a table-drawer; the heaping up and the strewing
about of garden-mold or gravel; the turning of the leaves of a book
(thirteenth to nineteenth month); digging and scraping in the sand; the
carrying of footstools hither and thither; the placing of shells, stones, or
buttons in rows (twenty-first month); pouring water into and out of bottles,
cups, watering-pots (thirty-first to thirty-third months); and, in the case of
my boy, the throwing of stones into the water. A little girl in the eleventh
month found her chief pleasure in "rummaging" with trifles in drawers and
little boxes. Her sister "played" with all sorts of things, taking an interest in

dolls and pictures in the tenth month (Frau von Strümpell). Here, too, the
eagerness and seriousness with which such apparently aimless movements
are performed is remarkable. The satisfaction they afford must be very
great, and it probably has its basis in the feeling of his own power generated
by the movements originated by the child himself (changes of place, of
position, of form) and in the proud feeling of being a cause.
This is not mere playing, although it is so called; it is experimenting. The
child that at first merely played like a cat, being amused with color, form,
and movement, has become a causative being. Herewith the development of
the "I"-feeling enters upon a new phase; but it is not yet perfected. Vanity
and ambition come in for the further development of it. Above all, it is
attention to the parts of his own body and the articles of his dress, the
nearest of all objects to the child's eye, that helps along the separation in
thought of the child's body from all other objects.
I therefore made special observation of the directing of his look toward his
own body and toward the mirror. In regard to the first I took note, among
other facts, of the following:
17th week.—In the seizing movements, as yet imperfect, the gaze is fixed
partly on the object, partly on his own hand, especially if the hand has once
seized successfully.
18th week.—The very attentive regarding of the fingers in seizing is
surprising, and is to be observed daily.
23d week.—When the infant, who often throws his hands about at random
in the air, accidentally gets hold of one hand with the other, he regards
attentively both his hands, which are often by chance folded.
24th week.—In the same way the child fixes his gaze for several minutes
alternately upon a glove held by himself in his hands and upon his own
fingers that hold it.
32d week.—The child, lying on his back, looks very frequently at his legs
stretched up vertically, especially at his feet, as if they were something
foreign to him.

35th week.—In every situation in which he can do so, the child tries to
grasp a foot with both hands and carry it to his mouth, often with success.
This monkey-like movement seems to afford him special pleasure.
36th week.—His own hands and feet are no more so frequently observed by
him without special occasion. Other new objects attract his gaze and are
seized.
39th week.—The same as before. In the bath, however, the child sometimes
looks at and feels of his own skin in various places, evidently taking
pleasure in doing so. Sometimes he directs his gaze to his legs, which are
bent and extended in a very lively manner in the most manifold variety of
positions.
55th week.—The child looks for a long time attentively at a person eating,
and follows with his gaze every movement; grasps at the person's face, and
then, after striking himself on the head, fixes his gaze on his own hands. He
is fond of playing with the fingers of the persons in the family, and delights
in the bendings and extensions, evidently comparing them with those of his
own fingers.
62d week.—Playing with his own fingers (at which he looks with a
protracted gaze) as if he would pull them off. Again, one hand is pressed
down by the other flat upon the table until it hurts, as if the hand were a
wholly foreign plaything, and it is still looked at wonderingly sometimes.
From this time forth the gazing at the parts of his own body was perceptibly
lessened. The child knew them as to their form, and gradually learned to
distinguish them from foreign objects as parts belonging to him; but in this
he by no means arrives at the point of considering, "The hand is mine, the
thing seized is not," or "The leg belongs to me," and the like; but because
all the visible parts of the child's body, on account of very frequently
repeated observation, no longer excite the optic center so strongly and
therefore appear no longer interesting—because the experiences of touch
combined with visual perceptions always recur in the same manner—the
child has gradually become accustomed to them and overlooks them when
making use of his hands and feet. He no longer represents them to himself
separately, as he did before, whereas every new object felt, seen, or heard, is
very interesting to him and is separately represented in idea. Thus arises the

definite separation of object and subject in the child's intellect. In the
beginning the child is new to himself, namely, to the representational
apparatus that gets its development only after birth; later, after he has
become acquainted with himself, after he, namely, his body, has lost the
charm of novelty for him, i. e., for the representational apparatus in his
brain, a dim feeling of the "I" exists, and by means of further abstraction the
concept of the "I" is formed.
The progress of the intellect in the act of looking into the mirror confirms
this conclusion drawn from the above observations.
For the behavior of the child toward his image in the glass shows
unmistakably the gradual growth of the consciousness of self out of a
condition in which objective and subjective changes are not yet
distinguished from each other.
Among the subjective changes is, without doubt, the smiling at the image in
the tenth week, which was probably occasioned merely by the brightness
(Sigismund). Another boy in the twenty-seventh week looked at himself in
the glass with a smile (Sigismund).
Darwin recorded of one of his sons, that in the fifth month he repeatedly
smiled at his father's image and his own in a mirror and took them for real
objects; but he was surprised that his father's voice sounded from behind
him (the child). "Like all infants, he much enjoyed thus looking at himself,
and in less than two months perfectly understood that it was an image, for if
I made quite silently any odd grimace, he would suddenly turn round to
look at me. He was, however, puzzled at the age of seven months, when,
being out of doors, he saw me on the inside of a large plate-glass window,
and seemed in doubt whether or not it was an image. Another of my infants,
a little girl, was not nearly so acute, and seemed quite perplexed at the
image of a person in a mirror approaching her from behind. The higher apes
which I tried with a small looking-glass behaved differently. They placed
their hands behind the glass, and in doing so showed their sense; but, far
from taking pleasure in looking at themselves, they got angry and would
look no more." The first-mentioned child, at the age of not quite nine
months, associated his own name with his image in the looking-glass, and
when called by name would turn toward the glass even when at some

distance from it. He gave to "Ah!" which he used at first when recognizing
any person or his own image in a mirror, an exclamatory sound such as
adults employ when surprised. Thus Darwin reports.
My boy gave me occasion for the following observations:
In the eleventh week he does not see himself in the glass. If I knock on the
glass, he turns his head in the direction of the sound. His image does not,
however, make the slightest impression upon him.
In the fourteenth and fifteenth weeks he looks at his image with utter
indifference. His gaze is directed to the eyes in the image without any
expression of pleasure or displeasure.
In the sixteenth week the reflected image is still either ignored or looked at
without interest.
Near the beginning of the seventeenth week (on the one hundred and
thirteenth day) the child for the first time regards his image in the glass with
unmistakable attention, and indeed with the same expression with which he
is accustomed to fix his gaze on a strange face seen for the first time. The
impression appears to awaken neither displeasure nor pleasure; the
perception seems now for the first time to be distinct. Three days later the
child for the first time undoubtedly laughed at his image.
When, in the twenty-fourth week, I held the child again before the glass, he
saw my image, became very attentive, and suddenly turned round toward
me, manifestly convincing himself that I stood near him.
In the twenty-fifth week he for the first time stretched out his hand toward
his own image. He therefore regarded it as capable of being seized.
In the twenty-sixth week the child is delighted at seeing me in the glass. He
turns round toward me, and evidently compares the original with the image.
In the thirty-fifth week the child gayly and with interest grasps at his image
in the glass, and is surprised when his hand comes against the smooth
surface.
In the forty-first to the forty-fourth week, the same. The reflected image is
regularly greeted with a laugh, and is then grasped at.

All these observations were made before a very large stationary mirror.
In the fifty-seventh week, however, I held a small hand-mirror close to the
face of the child. He looked at his image and then passed his hand behind
the glass and moved the hand hither and thither as if searching. Then he
took the mirror himself and looked at it and felt of it on both sides. When
after several minutes I held the mirror before him again, precisely the same
performance was repeated. It accords with what was observed by Darwin in
the case of anthropoid apes mentioned above (p. 197).
In the fifty-eighth week I showed to the child his photograph, cabinet-size,
in a frame under glass. He first turned the picture round as he had turned the
hand-mirror. Although the photographic image was much smaller than the
reflected one, it seemed to be equally esteemed. On the same day (four
hundred and second) I held the hand-mirror before the boy again, pointing
out to him his image in it; but he at once turned away obstinately (again like
the intelligent animal).
Here the incomprehensible—in the literal sense—was disturbing. But very
soon came the insight which is wanting to the quadrumana, for in the
sixtieth week the child saw his mother in the mirror, and to the question,
"Where is mamma?" he pointed to the image in the mirror and then turned
round, laughing, to his mother. Now, as he had before this time behaved
roguishly, there is no doubt that at this time, after fourteen months, original
and image were distinguished with certainty as such, especially as his own
photograph no longer excited wonder.
Nevertheless, the child, in the sixty-first week, is still trying to feel of his
own image in the glass, and he licks the glass in which he sees it, and, in the
sixty-sixth week, also strikes against it with his hand.
In the following week for the first time I saw the child make grimaces
before the glass. He laughed as he did it. I stood behind him and called him
by name. He turned around directly, although he saw me plainly in the
glass. He evidently knew that the voice did not come from the image.
In the sixty-ninth week signs of vanity are perceived. The child looks at
himself in the glass with pleasure and often. If we put anything on his head

and say, "Pretty," his expression changes. He is gratified in a strange and
peculiar fashion; his eyebrows are raised, and the eyes are opened wide.
In the twenty-first month the child puts some lace or embroidered stuff
about him, lets it hang down from his shoulders, looks round behind at the
train, advancing, stopping, eagerly throwing it into fresh folds. Here there is
a mixture of apish imitation with vanity.
As the child had, moreover, even in the seventeenth month, been fond of
placing himself before the glass and making all sorts of faces, the
experiments with the mirror were no longer continued.
They show the transition from the infant's condition previous to the
development of the ego, when he can not yet see distinctly, to the condition
of the developed ego, who consciously distinguishes himself from his
image in the glass and from other persons and their images. Yet for a long
time after this step there exists a certain lack of clearness in regard to
names. In the twenty-first month the child laughs at his image in the glass
and points to it when I ask, "Where is Axel?" and at my image when asked,
"Where is papa?" But, being asked with emphasis, the child turns round to
me with a look of doubt. I once brought a large mirror near the child's bed
in the evening after he had gone to sleep, so that he might perceive himself
directly upon waking. He saw his image immediately after waking, seemed
very much surprised at it, gazed fixedly at it, and when at last I asked,
"Where is Axel?" he pointed not to himself but to the image (six hundred
and twentieth day). In the thirty-first month it still afforded him great
pleasure to gaze at his image in the glass. The child would laugh at it
persistently and heartily.
Animals show great variety of behavior in this respect, as is well known. A
pair of Turkish ducks, that I used to see every day for weeks, always kept
themselves apart from other ducks. When the female died, the drake, to my
surprise, betook himself by preference to a cellar-window that was covered
on the inside and gave strong reflections, and he would stand with his head
before this for hours every day. He saw his image there, and thought
perhaps that it was his lost companion.
A kitten before which I held a small mirror must surely have taken the
image for a second living cat, for she went behind the glass and around it

when it was conveniently placed.
Many animals, on the contrary, are afraid of their reflected image, and run
away from it.
In like manner little children are sometimes frightened by the discovery of
their own shadows. My child exhibited signs of fear at his shadow the first
time he saw it; but in his fourth year he was pleased with it, and to the
question, "Where does the shadow come from?" he answered, to our
surprise, "From the sun" (fortieth month).
More important for the development of the child's ego than are the
observation of the shadow and of the image in the glass is the learning of
speech, for it is not until words are used that the higher concepts are first
marked off from one another, and this is the case with the concept of the
ego. Yet the wide-spread view, that the "I"-feeling first appears with the
beginning of the use of the word "I," is wholly incorrect. Many headstrong
children have a strongly marked "I"-feeling without calling themselves by
anything but their names, because their relatives in speaking with them do
not call themselves "I," but "papa, mamma, uncle, O mamma," etc., so that
the opportunity early to hear and to appropriate the words "I" and "mine" is
rare. Others hear these words often, to be sure, especially from children
somewhat older, and use them, yet do not understand them, but add to them
their own names. Thus, a girl of two and a half years, named Ilse, used to
say, Ilse mein Tuhl (Ilse, my chair), instead of "mein Stuhl" (Bardeleben).
My boy of two and three fourths years repeated the "I" he heard, meaning
by it "you." In the twenty-ninth month mir (me) was indeed said by him,
but not "ich" (I), (p. 171). Soon, however, he named himself no more, as he
had done in the twenty-third and even in the twenty-eighth month (pp. 147-
167), by his first name. In the thirty-third month especially came das will
ich! das möcht ich! (I wish that, I should like that) (p. 183). The fourfold
designation of his own person in the thirty-second month (p. 180)—by his
name, by "I," by "he," and by the omission of all pronouns—was only a
brief transition-stage, as was also the misunderstanding of the "dein" (your)
which for a time (p. 156) meant "gross" (large).
These observations plainly show that the "I"-feeling is not first awakened
by the learning of words, for this feeling, according to the facts given

above, is present much earlier; but by means of speech the conceptual
distinction of the "I," the self, the mine, is first made exact; the
development, not the origin, of the "I"-feeling is simply favored.
How obscure the "I"-concept is even after learning the use of the personal
pronouns is shown by the utterance of the four-year-old daughter of
Lindner, named Olga, die hat mich nass gemacht (she has made me wet),
when she meant that she herself had done it; and du sollst mir doch folgen,
Olga (but you must follow me, Olga), the latter expression, indeed, being
merely said after some one else. In her is noteworthy, too, the confounding
of the possessives "his" and "her," e. g., dem Papa ihr Buch auf der Mama
seinen Platz gelegt (her book, papa's, laid in his place, mamma's) (Lindner);
and yet in these forms of speech there is an advance in the differentiation of
the concepts.
All children are known to be late in beginning to speak about themselves, of
what they wish to become, or of that which they can do better than others
can, and the like. The ego has become an experience of consciousness long
before this.
All these progressive steps, which in the individual can be traced only with
great pains, form, as it were, converging lines that culminate in the fully
developed feeling of the personality as exclusive, as distinct from the outer
world.
Thus much the purely physiological view can admit without hesitation; but
a further unification or indivisibility or unbroken permanence of the child's
ego, it can not reconcile with the facts, perfectly well established by me,
that are presented in this chapter.
For what is the significance of the fact, that "to the child his feet, hands,
teeth, seem a plaything foreign to himself"? and that "the child bit his own
arm as he was accustomed to bite objects with which he was not
acquainted"? "Seem" to what part of the child? What is that which bites in
the child as in the very young chick that seizes its own toe with its bill and
bites it as if it were the toe of its neighbor or a grain of millet? Evidently the
"subject" in the head is a different one from that in the trunk. The ego of the
brain is other than the ego of the spinal marrow (the "spinal-marrow-soul"
of Pflüger). The one speaks, sees, hears, tastes, smells, and feels; the other

merely feels, and at the beginning, so long as brain and spinal marrow have
only a loose organic connection and no functional connection at all with
each other, the two egos are absolutely isolated from each other. Newly-
born children with no brain, who lived for hours and days, as I myself saw
in a case of rare interest, could suck, cry, move the limbs, and feel (for they
stopped crying and took to sucking when something they could suck was
put into their mouths when they were hungry). On the other hand, if a
human being could be born with a brain but without a spinal marrow and
could live, it would not be able to move its limbs. When a normal babe,
therefore, plays with its feet or bites itself in the arm as it would bite a
biscuit, we have in this a proof that the brain with its perceptive apparatus is
independent of the spinal marrow. And the fact that acephalic new-born
human beings and animal embryos deprived of brain, as Soltmann and I
found, move their limbs just as sound ones do, cry just as they do, suck and
respond to reflexes, proves that the functions of the spinal marrow
(inclusive of the optic thalami, the corpora quadrigemina and the cervical
marrow) are independent of the cerebral hemispheres (together with the
corpus striatum, according to Soltmann).
Now, however, the brainless living child that sucks, cries, moves arms and
legs, and distinguishes pleasure from displeasure, has indisputably an
individuality, an ego. We must, then, of necessity admit two egos in the
child that has both cerebrum and spinal marrow, and that represents to
himself his arm as good to taste of, as something to like. But, if two, why
not several? At the beginning, when the centers of sight, hearing, smell, and
taste, in the brain are still imperfectly developed, each of these perceives for
itself, the perceptions in the different departments of sense having as yet no
connection at all with one another. The case is like that of the spinal
marrow, which at first does not communicate, or only very imperfectly
communicates, to the brain that which it feels, e. g., the effect of the prick
of a needle, for the newly born do not generally react upon that. Only by
means of very frequent coincidences of unlike sense-impressions, in
tasting-and-touching, seeing-and-feeling, seeing-and-hearing, seeing-and-
smelling, tasting-and-smelling, hearing-and-touching, are the intercentral
connecting fibers developed, and then first can the various representational
centers, these "I"-makers, as it were, contribute, as in the case of the

ordinary formation of concepts, to the formation of the corporate "I," which
is quite abstract.
This abstract "I"-concept, that belongs only to the adult, thinking human
being, comes into existence in exactly the same way that other concepts do,
viz., by means of the individual ideas from which it results, as e. g., the
forest exists only when the trees exist. The subordinate "I's," that preside
over the separate sense-departments, are in the little child not yet blended
together, because in him the organic connections are still lacking; which,
being translated into the language of psychology, means that he lacks the
necessary power of abstraction. The co-excitations of the sensory centers,
that are as yet impressed with too few memory-images, can not yet take
place on occasion of a single excitation, the cerebral connecting fibers
being as yet too scanty.
These co-excitations of parts of the brain functionally different, on occasion
of excitation of a part of the brain that has previously often been excited
together with those, form the physiological foundation of the psychical
phenomenon of the formation of concepts in general, and so of the
formation of the "I"-concept. For the special ideas of all departments of
sense have in all beings possessed of all the senses—or of four senses, or of
three—the common quality of coming into existence only under conditions
of time, space, and causality. This common property presupposes similar
processes in every separate sense-center of the highest rank. Excitations of
one of these centers easily effect similar co-excitations of centers that have
often been excited together with them through objective impressions, and it
is this similar co-excitement extending itself over the cerebral centers of all
the nerves of sense that evokes the composite idea of the "I."
According to this view, therefore, the "I" can not exist as a unit, as
undivided, as uninterrupted; it exists only when the separate departments of
sense are active with their egos, out of which the "I" is abstracted; e. g., it
disappears in dreamless sleep. In the waking condition it has continued
existence only where the centro-sensory excitations are most strongly in
force; i. e., where the attention is on the strain.
Still less, however, is the "I" an aggregate. For this presupposes the
exchangeability of the component parts. The seeing ego, however, can just

as little have its place made good by a substitute as can the hearing one, the
tasting one, etc. The sum-total of the separate leaves, blossoms, stalks,
roots, of the plant does not, by a great deal, constitute the plant. The parts
must be joined together in a special manner. So, likewise, it is not enough to
add together the characteristics common to the separate sense-
representations in order to obtain from these the regulating and controlling
"I." Rather there results from the increasing number and manifoldness of
the sense-impressions a continually increasing growth of the gray substance
of the child's cerebrum, a rapid increase of the intercentral connecting
fibers, and through this a readier co-excitement—association, so called—
which unites feeling with willing and thinking in the child.
This union is the "I," the sentient and emotive, the desiring and willing, the
perceiving and thinking "I."

CHAPTER XX.

SUMMARY OF RESULTS.

Of all the facts that have been established by me through the observation of
the child in the first years of his life, the formation of concepts without
language is most opposed to the traditional doctrines, and it is just this on
which I lay the greatest stress.
It has been demonstrated that the human being, at the very beginning of his
life, not only distinguishes pleasure and discomfort, but may also have
single, distinct sensations. He behaves on the first day differently, when the
appropriate sense-impressions exist, from what he does when they are
lacking. The first effect of these feelings, these few sensations, is the
association of their traces, left behind in the central nervous system, with
inborn movements. Those traces or central impressions develop gradually
the personal memory. These movements are the point of departure for the
primitive activity of the intellect, which separates the sensations both in
time and in space. When the number of the memory-images, of distinct
sensations, on the one hand, on the other, of the movements that have been
associated with them—e. g., "sweet" and "sucking"—has become larger,
then a firmer association of sensation-and-movement-memories, i. e., of
excitations of sensory and motor ganglionic cells takes place, so that
excitement of the one brings with it co-excitement of the other. Sucking
awakens the recollection of the sweet taste; the sweet taste of itself causes
sucking. This succession is already a separation in time of two sensations
(the sweet and the motor sensation in sucking). The separation in space
requires the recollection of two sensations, each with one movement; the
distinction between sucking at the left breast and sucking at the right is
made after one trial. With this, the first act of the intellect is performed, the
first perception made, i. e., a sensation first localized in time and space. The
motor sensation of sucking has come, like the sweet taste, after a similar

one, and it has come between two unlike relations in space that were
distinguished. By means of multiplied perceptions (e. g., luminous fields
not well defined, but yet defined) and multiplied movements with
sensations of touch, the perception, after considerable time, acquires an
object; i. e., the intellect, which already allowed nothing bright to appear
without boundary-lines, and thus allowed nothing bright to appear except in
space (whereas at the beginning brightness, as was the case even later with
sound, had no limitation, no demarcation), begins to assign a cause for that
which is perceived. Hereby perception is raised to representation. The
often-felt, localized, sweet, warm, white wetness, which is associated with
sucking, now forms an idea, and one of the earliest ideas. When, now, this
idea has often arisen, the separate perceptions that have been necessary to
its formation are united more and more firmly. Then, when one of these
latter appears for itself, the memory-images of the others will also appear,
through co-excitement of the ganglionic cells concerned; but this means
simply that the concept is now in existence. For the concept has its origin in
the union of attributes. Attributes are perceived, and the memory-images of
them, that is, accordingly, memory-images of separate perceptions, are so
firmly associated that, where only one appears in the midst of entirely new
impressions, the concept yet emerges, because all the other images appear
along with it. Language is not required for this. Up to this point, those born
deaf behave exactly like infants that have all the senses, and like some
animals that form concepts.
These few first ideas, namely, the individual ideas, or sense-intuitions that
are generated by the first perceptions, and the simple general ideas (of a
lower order), or concepts, arising out of these—the concepts of the child as
yet without language, of microcephali also, of deaf-mutes, and of the higher
animals—have now this peculiarity, that they have all been formed exactly
in this way by the parents and the grandparents and the representatives of
the successive generations (such notions as those of "food," "breast"). These
concepts are not innate; because no idea can be innate, for the reason that
several peripheral impressions are necessary for the formation of even a
single perception. They are, however, inherited. Just as the teeth and the
beard are not usually innate in man, but come and grow like those of the
parents and are already implanted, piece for piece, in the new-born child,
and are thus hereditary, so the first ideas of the infant, his first concepts,

which arise unconsciously, without volition and without the possibility of
inhibition, in every individual in the same way, must be called hereditary.
Different as are the teeth from the germs of teeth in the newly-born, so
different are the man's concepts, clear, sharply defined by words, from the
child's ill-defined, obscure concepts, which arise quite independently of all
language (of word, look, or gesture).
In this wise the old doctrine of "innate ideas" becomes clear. Ideas or
thoughts are themselves either representations or combinations of
representations. They thus presuppose perceptions, and can not accordingly
be innate, but may some of them be inherited, those, viz., which at first, by
virtue of the likeness between the brain of the child and that of the parent,
and of the similarity between the external circumstances of the beginnings
of life in child and parent, always arise in the same manner.
The principal thing is the innate aptitude to perceive things and to form
ideas, i. e., the innate intellect. By aptitude (Anlage), however, can be
understood nothing else at present than a manner of reacting, a sort of
capability or excitability, impressed upon the central organs of the nervous
system after repeated association of nervous excitations (through a great
many generations in the same way).
The brain comes into the world provided with a great number of
impressions upon it. Some of these are quite obscure, some few are distinct.
Each ancestor has added his own to those previously existing. Among these
impressions, finally, the useless ones must soon be obliterated by those that
are useful. On the other hand, deep impressions will, like wounds, leave
behind scars, which abide longer; and very frequently used paths of
connection between different portions of the brain and spinal marrow and
the organs of sense are easier to travel even at birth (instinctive and
reflexive processes).
Now, of all the higher functions of the brain, the ordering one, which
compares the simple, pure sensations, the original experiences, and first sets
them in an order of succession, viz., arranges them in time, then puts them
side by side and one above another, and, not till later, one behind another,
viz., arranges them in space—this function is one of the oldest. This
ordering of the sense-impressions is an activity of the intellect that has

nothing to do with speech, and the capacity for it is, as Immanuel Kant
discovered, present in man "as he now is" (Kant) before the activity of the
senses begins; but without this activity it can not assert itself.
Now, I maintain, and in doing so I take my stand upon the facts published in
this book, that just as little as the intellect of the child not yet able to speak
has need of words or looks or gestures, or any symbol whatever, in order to
arrange in time and space the sense-impressions, so little does that intellect
require those means in order to form concepts and to perform logical
operations; and in this fundamental fact I see the material for bridging over
the only great gulf that separates the child from the brute animal.
That even physiologists deny that there is any passage from one to the other
is shown by Vierordt in his "Physiology of Infancy" (1877).
The fundamental fact that a genuinely logical activity of the brain goes on
without language of any sort, in the adult man who has the faculty of
speech, was discovered by Helmholtz. The logical functions called by him
"unconscious inferences" begin, as I think I have shown by many
observations in the newly-born, immediately with the activity of the senses.
Perception in the third dimension of space is a particularly clear example of
this sort of logical activity without words, because it is developed slowly.
In place of the expression "unconscious," which, because it has caused
much mischief, still prevents the term "unconscious inferences" from being
naturalized in the physiology of the senses and the theory of perception, it
would be advisable, since "instinctive" and "intuitive" are still more easily
misunderstood, to say "wordless." Wordless ideas, wordless concepts,
wordless judgments, wordless inferences, may be inherited. To these belong
such as our progenitors often experienced at the beginning of life, such as
not only come into existence without the participation of any medium of
language whatever, but also are never even willed (intended, deliberate,
voluntary), and can not under any circumstances be set aside or altered,
whether to be corrected or falsified. An inherited defect can not be put
aside, and neither can the inherited intellect. When the outer angle at the
right of the eye is pressed upon, a light appears in the closed eye at the left,
not at the right; not at the place touched. This optical illusion, which was
known even in Newton's day, this wordless inductive inference, is

hereditary and incorrigible; and, on the other hand, the hereditary wordless
concept of food can neither be prevented from arising nor be set aside nor
be formed otherwise than it was formed by our ancestors.
Innate, to make it once more prominent, is the faculty (the capacity, the
aptitude, the potential function) of forming concepts, and some of the first
concepts are hereditary. New (not hereditary) concepts arise only after new
perceptions, i. e., after experiences that associate themselves with the
primitive ones by means of new connecting paths in the brain, and they
begin in fact before the learning of speech.
A chick just out of the shell possesses the capacity to lay eggs—the organs
necessary—in fact the future eggs are inborn in the creature; but only after
some time does it lay eggs, and these are in every respect similar to the first
eggs of its mother. Indeed, the chicks that come from these eggs resemble
those of the mother herself; thus the eggs have hereditary properties. New
eggs originate only by crossing, by external influences of all sorts,
influences, therefore, of experience.
So, too, the new-born child possesses the capacity of forming concepts. The
organs necessary for that are inborn in him, but not till after some time does
he form concepts, and these are in all nations and at all times quite similar
to the first concepts formed by the child's mother. Indeed, the inferences
that attach themselves to the first concepts will resemble those which were
developed in the mother or will be identical with them; these concepts have,
then, hereditary properties. New concepts originate only through
experience. They originate in great numbers in every child that learns to
speak.
If the fact that children utterly ignorant of speech, even those born deaf,
already perform logical operations with perfect correctness, proves the
intellect to be independent of language, yet searching observation of the
child that is learning to speak shows that only by means of verbal language
can the intellect give precision to its primitive indistinct concepts and
thereby develop itself further, connecting ideas appropriately with the
circumstances in which the child lives.
It is a settled fact, however, that many ideas must already be formed in
order to make possible the acquirement of speech. The existence of ideas is

a necessary condition of learning to speak.
The greatest intellectual advance in this field consists in this, that the
specific method of the human race is discovered by the speechless child—
the method of expressing ideas aloud and articulately, i. e., by means of
expirations of breath along with various positions of the larynx and the
mouth and various movements of the tongue. No child invents this method,
it is transmitted; but each individual child discovers that by means of
sounds thus originating one can make known his ideas and thereby induce
feelings of pleasure and do away with discomfort. Therefore he applies
himself to this process of himself, without instruction, provided only that he
grows up among speaking people; and even where hearing, which serves as
a means of intercourse with them, is wanting from birth, a life rich in ideas
and an intelligence of a high order may be developed, provided that written
signs of sound supply the place of sounds heard. These signs, however, can
be learned only by means of instruction. The way in which writing is
learned is the same as the way in which the alalic child learns to speak.
Both rest upon imitation.
I have shown that the first firm association of an idea with a syllable or with
a word-like combination of syllables, takes place exclusively through
imitation; but a union of this sort being once established, the child then
freely invents new combinations, although to a much more limited extent
than is commonly assumed. No one brings with him into the world a genius
of such quality that it would be capable of inventing articulate speech. It is
difficult enough to comprehend that imitation suffices for the child to learn
a language.
What organic conditions are required for the imitation of sounds and for
learning to speak I have endeavored to ascertain by means of a systematic
collection, resting on the best pathological investigations, of all the
disturbances of speech thus far observed in adults; and the daily observation
of a sound child, who was kept away from all training as far as possible, as
well as the frequent observation of other children, has brought me to the
following important result:
That every known form of disturbance of speech in adults finds its perfect
counterpart in the child that is learning to speak.

The child can not yet speak correctly, because his impressive, central, and
expressive organs of speech are not yet completely developed. The adult
patient can no longer speak correctly, because those parts are no longer
complete or capable of performing their functions. The parallelism is
perfect even to individual cases, if children of various ages are carefully
observed in regard to their acquirement of speech. As to facts of a more
general nature, we arrive, then, at the three following:
1. The normal infant understands spoken language much earlier than he can
himself produce through imitation the sounds, syllables, and words he
hears.
2. The normal child, however, before he begins to speak or to imitate
correctly the sounds of language, forms of his own accord all or nearly all
the sounds that occur in his future speech and very many others besides,
and delights in doing it.
3. The order of succession in which the sounds of speech are produced by
the infant is different with different individuals, and consequently is not
determined by the principle of the least effort. It is dependent upon several
factors—brain, teeth, size of the tongue, acuteness of hearing, motility, and
others. Only in the later, intentional, sound-formations and attempts at
speaking does that principle come under consideration.
In the acquirement of every complicated muscular movement, dancing, e.
g., the difficult combinations which make a greater strain on the activity of
the will are in like manner acquired last.
Heredity plays no part in this, for every child can learn to master perfectly
any language, provided he hears from birth only the one to be learned. The
plasticity of the inborn organs of speech is thus in the earliest childhood
very great.
To follow farther the influence that the use of speech as a means of
understanding has upon the intellectual development of the child lies
outside the problem dealt with in this book. Let me, in conclusion, simply
give a brief estimate of the questioning-activity that makes its appearance
very early after the first attempts at speech, and also add a few remarks on
the development of the "I"-feeling.

The child's questioning as a means of his culture is almost universally
underrated. The interest in causality that unfolds itself more and more
vigorously with the learning of speech, the asking why, which is often
almost unendurable to parents and educators, is fully justified, and ought
not, as unfortunately is too often the case, to be unheeded, purposely left
unanswered, purposely answered falsely. I have from the beginning given to
my boy, to the best of my knowledge invariably, an answer to his questions
intelligible to him and not contrary to truth, and have noticed that in
consequence at a later period, in the fifth and the sixth and especially in the
seventh year, the questions prove to be more and more intelligent, because
the previous answers are retained. If, on the contrary, we do not answer at
all, or if we answer with jests and false tales, it is not to be wondered at that
a child even of superior endowments puts foolish and absurd questions and
thinks illogically—a thing that rarely occurs where questions are rightly
answered and fitting instruction is given, to say nothing of rearing the child
to superstition. The only legend in which I allow my boy to have firm faith
is that of the stork that brings new babes, and what goes along with that.
With regard to the development of the "I"—feeling the following holds
good:
This feeling does not awake on the day when the child uses for the first time
the word "I" instead of his own name—the date of such use varies
according as those about it name themselves and the child by the proper
name and not by the pronoun for a longer or a shorter period; but the "I" is
separated from the "not-I" after a long series of experiences, chiefly of a
painful sort, as these observations have made clear, through the becoming
accustomed to the parts of one's own body. These, which at first are foreign
objects, affect the child's organs of sense always in the same manner, and
thereby become uninteresting after they have lost the charm of novelty.
Now, his own body is that to which the attractive objective impressions
(i. e., the world) are referred, and with the production by him of new
impressions, with the changes wrought by him (in the experimenting which
is called "playing"), with the experience of being-a-cause, is developed
more and more in the child the feeling of self. With this he raises himself
higher and higher above the dependent condition of the animal, so that at
last the difference, not recognizable at all before birth and hardly
recognizable at the beginning after birth, between animal and human being

attains a magnitude dangerous for the latter, attains it, above all, by means
of language.
But if it is necessary for the child to appropriate to himself as completely as
possible this highest privilege of the human race and through this to
overcome the animal nature of his first period; if his development requires
the stripping off of the remains of the animal and the unfolding of the
responsible "I"—then it will conduce to the highest satisfaction of the
thinking man, at the summit of his experience of life, to go back in thought
to his earliest childhood, for that period teaches him plainly that he himself
has his origin in nature, is intimately related to all other living creatures.
However far he gets in his development, he is ever groping vainly in the
dark for a door into another world; but the very fact of his reflecting upon
the possibility of such a door shows how high the developed human being
towers above all his fellow-beings.
The key to the understanding of the great enigma, how these extremes are
connected, is furnished in the history of the development of the mind of the
child.

APPENDIXES.

A.

COMPARATIVE OBSERVATIONS CONCERNING THE
ACQUIREMENT
OF SPEECH BY GERMAN AND FOREIGN CHILDREN.

Among the earlier as among the later statements concerning the
acquirement of speech, there are several that have been put forth by writers
on the subject without a sufficient basis of observed facts. Not only Buffon,
but also Taine and his successors, have, from a few individual cases,
deduced general propositions which are not of general application.
Good observations were first supplied in Germany by Berthold Sigismund
in his pamphlet, "Kind und Welt" ("The Child and the World") (1856); but
his observations were scanty.
He noted, as the first articulate sounds made by a child from Thüringen
(Rudolstadt), ma, ba, bu, appa, ange, anne, brrr, arrr: these were made
about the middle of the first three months.
Sigismund is of the opinion that this first lisping, or babbling, consists in
the production of syllables with only two sounds, of which the consonant is
most often the first; that the first consonants distinctly pronounced are
labials; that the lips, brought into activity by sucking, are the first organs of
articulation; but this conjecture lacks general confirmation.
In the second three months (in the case of one child in the twenty-third
week, with other healthy children considerably earlier) were heard, for the
first time, the loud and high crowing-sounds, uttered by the child
spontaneously, jubilantly, with lively movements of the limbs that showed
the waxing power of the muscles: the child seemed to take pleasure in
making the sounds. The utterance of syllables, on the other hand, is at this
period often discontinued for weeks at a time.

In the third quarter of the first year, the lisping or stammering was more
frequent. New sounds were added: bä, fbu, fu; and the following were
among those that were repeated without cessation, bäbäbä, dädädä; also
adad, eded.
In the next three months the child manifested his satisfaction in any object
by the independent sound ei, ei. The first imitations of sounds, proved to be
such, were made after the age of eleven months. But it is more significant,
for our comprehension of the process of learning to speak, that long before
the boy tried to imitate words or gestures, viz., at the age of nine months, he
distinguished accurately the words "father, mother, light, window, moon,
lane"; for he looked, or pointed, at the object designated, as soon as one of
these words was spoken.
And when, finally, imitation began, musical tones, e. g., F, C, were imitated
sooner than the spoken sounds, although the former were an octave higher.
And the ei, ei was repeated in pretty nearly the same tone or accent in
which it had been pronounced for the child. Sneezing was not imitated till
after fourteen months. The first word imitated by the child of his own
accord (after fourteen months) was the cry "Neuback" (fresh-bake), as it
resounded from the street; it was given back by the child, unsolicited, as ei-
a. As late as the sixteenth month he replied to the word papa, just as he did
to the word Ida, only with atta; yet he had in the mean time learned to
understand "lantern, piano, stove, bird, nine-pin, pot"—in all, more than
twenty words—and to indicate by a look the objects named; he had also
learned to make the new imperfect sounds pujéh, pujéh, tupe tupe téh,
ämmäm, atta, ho.
In the seventeenth month came in place of these sounds the babbled
syllables mäm, mam, mad-am, a-dam, das; in the case of other children,
syllables different from these. Children often say several syllables in quick
succession, "then suddenly stop as if they were thinking of something new
—actually strain, as if they must exert themselves to bring their organs to
utterance, until at last a new sound issues, and then this is repeated like the
clack of a mill." Along with this appears the frequent doubling of syllables,
as in papa, mama.

The boy, at twenty months, told his father the following, with pretty long
pauses and animated gestures: atten—beene—titten—bach—eine—puff—
anna, i. e., "Wir waren im Garten, haben Beeren und Kirschen gegessen,
und in den Bach Steine geworfen; dann kam Anna" (we were in the garden,
ate berries and cherries, and threw stones into the brook; then Anna came).
The observations of Sigismund are remarkable for their objectivity, their
clearness of exposition, and their accuracy, and they agree with mine, as
may easily be seen, in many respects perfectly. Unfortunately, this excellent
observer (long since deceased) did not finish his work. The first part only
has appeared. Moreover, the statements as to the date of the first imitations
(see pp. 83, 108, 109, 118, 121) are not wholly in accord with one another.
I. E. Löbisch, likewise a physician, in his "Entwickelungsgeschichte der
Seele des Kindes" ("History of the Development of the Mind of the Child,"
Vienna, 1851, p. 68), says: "Naturally the first sound formed in the mouth,
which is more or less open, while the other organs of speech are inactive, is
the sound resembling a, which approximates sometimes more, sometimes
less, nearly to the e and the o.[D]
"Of the consonants the first are those formed by closing and opening the
lips: m, b, p; these are at first indistinct and not decidedly differentiated till
later; then the m naturally goes not only before the a but also after it; b and
p for a long time merely commence a syllable, and rarely close one until
other consonants also have been formed. A child soon says pa, but certainly
does not say ab until he can already pronounce other consonants also (p.
79).
"The order in which the sounds are produced by the child is the following:
Of the vowels, first a, e, o, u, of course not well distinguished from a at the
beginning; the last vowel is i. Of the consonants, m is the first, and it passes
by way of the w into b and p. But here we may express our astonishment
that so many writers on the subject of the order of succession of the
consonants in the development of speech have assigned so late a date to the
formation of the w; Schwarz puts it even after t, and before r and s. Then
come d, t; then l and n; n is easily combined with d when it precedes d; next
f and the gutturals h, ch, g, k, the g and k often confounded with d and t. S
and r are regarded as nearly simultaneous in their appearance; the gutturals

as coming later, the latest of them being ch. Still, there is a difference in this
respect in different children. For many produce a sound resembling r among
the first consonant sounds; so too ä, ö, ü; the diphthongs proper do not
come till the last."
These statements of Löbisch, going, as they do, far beyond pure
observation, can not all be regarded as having general validity. For most
German children, at least, even those first adduced can scarcely claim to be
well founded.
H. Taine (in the supplement to his book on "Intelligence," which appeared
in a German translation in 1880) noted, as expressions used by a French
child in the fifteenth month, papa, maman, tété (nurse, evidently a word
taken from the word têter, "to nurse or suck at the breast"), oua-oua (dog, in
all probability a word said for the child to repeat), koko (cock, no doubt
from coq-coq, which had been said for the child), dada (horse, carriage,
indicating other objects also, no doubt; a demonstrative word, as it is with
many German children). Tem was uttered without meaning for two weeks;
then it signified "give, take, look, pay attention." I suspect that we have here
a mutilation of the strongly accentuated tiens, which had probably been
often heard. As early as the fourteenth month, ham signified "I want to eat"
(hamm, then am, might have had its origin in the echo of faim, as-tu faim?
(are you hungry?)). At the age of three and a half months this child formed
only vowels, according to the account; at twelve months she twittered and
uttered first m-m, then kraaau, papa, with varying intonation, but spoke no
word with a recognizable meaning. In the tenth month there was an
understanding of some questions. For the child, when asked "Where is
grandpapa?" smiled at the portrait of the grandfather, but not at the one of
the grandmother, which was not so good a likeness. In the eleventh month,
at the question "Where is mamma?" the child would turn toward her
mother, and in like manner toward the father at the question, "papa"?
A second child observed by Taine made utterances that had intellectual
significance in the seventh week, for the first time. Up to the age of five
months ah, gue, gre (French) were heard; in the seventh month, also ata,
ada.

In his reflections, attached to these and a few other observations of his own,
Taine rightly emphasizes the great power of generalization and the
peculiarity the very young child had of associating with words it had heard
other notions than those common with us; but he ascribes too much to the
child's inventive genius. The child guesses more than it discovers, and the
very cases adduced (hamm, tem), on which he lays great weight, may be
traced, as I remarked above parenthetically, to something heard by the
child; this fact he seems to have himself quite overlooked. It is true, that in
the acquirement of speech one word may have several different meanings in
succession, as is especially the case with the word bébé (corresponding to
the English word baby), almost universal with French children; it is not true
that a child without imitation of sounds invents a word with a fixed
meaning, and that, with no help or suggestion from members of the family,
it employs its imperfectly uttered syllables (Lallsylben) consistently for
designating its ideas.
Among the notes of Wyma concerning an English child ("The Mental
Development of the Infant of To-day," in the "Journal of Psychological
Medicine and Mental Pathology," vii, Part I, pp. 62-69, London, April,
1881), the following, relating to the acquisition of speech, are to be
mentioned:
At five months the child began to use a kind of language, consisting of six
words, to indicate a desire or intention. Ning signified desire for milk, and
was employed for that up to the age of two years. (The word may possibly
have been derived from the word milk,[E] frequently heard.) At nine months
the child made use of the words pretty things for animals; at ten months it
formed many small sentences.
The child practiced itself in speaking, even without direct imitation of
words just spoken, for at the age of two years it began to say over a number
of nursery rhymes that nobody in the house knew, and that could not have
been learned from other children, because the child had no intercourse with
such. At a later period the child declared that the rhymes had been learned
from a former nurse, whom it had not seen for nearly three months. Thus
the articulation was perfecting itself for weeks before it was understood.
The exercises of the child sounded like careless reading aloud.

The book of Prof. Ludwig Strümpell, of Leipsic, "Psychologische
Pädagogik" (Leipsic, 1880, 368 pages), contains an appendix, "Notizen
über die geistige Entwickelung eines weiblichen Kindes während der ersten
zwei Lebensjahre" ("Notes on the Mental Development of a Female Child
during the First Two Years of Life"); in this are many observations that
relate to the learning of speech. These are from the years 1846 and 1847.
In the tenth week, ah! ah! was an utterance of joy; in the thirteenth, the
child sings, all alone; in the nineteenth comes the guttural utterance, grrr,
but no consonant is assigned to this period. In the first half-year are heard
distinctly, in the order given, ei, aga, eigei, ja, ede, dede, eds, edss, emme,
meme, nene, nein. In the eighth month, there is unmistakable understanding
of what is said; e. g., "Where is the tick-tack?" In the ninth, am, amme, ap,
pap, are said; she sings vowels that are sung for her. In the eleventh month,
imitation of sounds is frequent, kiss, kiss; at sight of the tea-kettle, ssi, ssi;
she knows all the people in the house; calls the birds by the strange name
tibu. Echolalia. In the fourteenth month, needles are called tick (stich =
prick or stitch). To the question, "Where is Emmy?" the child points,
correctly, to herself; says distinctly, Kopf (head), Buch (book), roth (red),
Tante (aunt), gut (good), Mann (man), Baum (tree); calls the eye (Auge) ok,
Pruscinsky prrti, the dog uf, uf. In the seventeenth month, simple sentences
are spoken; she speaks to herself. In the nineteenth month, she calls herself
by her name, and counts twei, drei, ümpf, exe, ibene, atte, neune (zwei, drei,
fünf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun—2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9); in the twenty-second
month, she talks a good deal to herself, and makes very rapid progress in
the correct use of words and the formation of sentences.
From the diary kept by Frau von Strümpell concerning this daughter and a
sister of this one, and kindly placed at my disposal in the original, I take the
following notes: In the eighth month, mamma, in the tenth, papa, without
meaning. In the eleventh month, the child's understanding of what is said to
her is surprising, and so is her imitation. To "Guten Tag" (good-day) she
responds, tata; to "Adieu," adaa. A book, which the child likes to turn the
leaves of, she calls ade (for a b c). The first certain association of a sound
learned with a concept seems to be that of the ee, which has often been said
to her, with wet, or with what is forbidden. Amme am om, "Amme komm"
(nurse come) (both imitative), is most frequently repeated, papa seldom.
The r guttural, or rattled, is imperfectly imitated. In the thirteenth month,

the little girl says, tippa tappa, when she wants to be carried, and responds
te te to "steh! steh" (stop)! She now calls the book a-be-te (for a b c).
Pigeons she calls kurru; men, in the picture-book, mann mann. When some
one asked, "Where is the brush?" the child made the motion of brushing. To
the questions, "Where is your ear, your tooth, nose, hand, your fingers,
mamma's ear, papa's nose?" etc., she points correctly to the object. On her
mother's coming into the room, mamam; her father's, papap. When the
nurse is gone, amme om, amme am. The mother asked some one, "Do you
hear?" and the child looked at her and took hold of her own ears. To the
question, "How do we eat?" she makes the motion of eating. She says nein
when she means to refuse. "Dank" (thank) is pronounced dakkn. "Bitte" (I
beg, or please) is correctly pronounced. She understands the meaning of
spoon, dress, mirror, mouth, plate, drink, and many other words, and likes
to hear stories, especially when they contain the words already known to
her. In the fifteenth month "Mathilde" is given by her as tilda and tida. At
sight of a faded bouquet she said blom (for Blume, flower). She says
everything that is said to her, though imperfectly; produces the most varied
articulate sounds; says ta, papa, ta when she hands anything to a person;
calls the foot (Fuss) pss, lisping and thrusting out the tongue. She often says
omama and opapa. In the seventeenth month, Ring is called ning, Wagen
(carriage), uagen, Sophie, dsofi, Olga, olla krank (ill), kank, Pflaume
(plum), pluma, satt (satisfied, as to hunger), datt, Hände-waschen (washing
the hands), ander-uaschen, Schuh and Tuch (shoe and cloth), tu, Strumpf
(stocking), tumpf, Hut (hat), ut, Suppe (soup), duppe. Mama kum bild dat
bank, is for "Mama komm, ich habe das Bilderbuch, erzähle mir dazu
etwas, dort setz' Dich zu mir" (M., come, I have the picture-book; tell me
something in it; sit there by me). In the eighteenth month, "Where is
Omama?" is answered with im garten; "How are Omama and Opapa?" with
sund (for gesund, well); "What is Omama doing?" with näht (she is
sewing). The black Apollo is called pollo wurz (schwarz, black).
The sister of this child, in the tenth month, applied the word mama to her
mother, pap pap and papap to her father, but was less sure in this; tjē-tē
were favorite syllables. When asked, "Where is Tick-tack?" she looks at the
clock on the wall. A piercing scream is an utterance of joy. In the fifteenth
month, Apapa is her word for grandfather, and is roguishly used for
grandmother. She says aben for "haben" (have), tatta for "Tante" (aunt),

apa (for uppa) means "I want to go up." Her imitation of what is said is
very imperfect, but her understanding of it is surprising. In the nineteenth
month she makes much use of her hands in gesture instead of speaking.
Kuker is her word for "Zucker" (sugar), bildebu for "Bilderbuch" (picture-
book). But she habitually calls a book omama or opapa (from the letters of
her grandparents). Clara is pronounced clala, Christine, titine. In the
twentieth month, her mother, after telling her a story, asked, "Who, pray, is
this, I?" and the child replied, "Mamma" "And who is that, you?" "Bertha,
Bertha" (the child's name) was the answer. At this period she said, Bertha
will; also paren (for fahren, drive), pallen (fallen, fall), bot, (Brot, bread),
atig (artig, good, well-behaved), mal (noch einmal, once more), muna
(Mund, mouth), aujen (Augen, eyes), ol (Ohr, ear), tirn (Stirn, forehead),
wanne (Wange, cheek, and Wanne, bath-tub), aua (August), dute (gute)
mama, päsche (Equipage), wasar tinken (Wasser trinken, drink water) dabel
(Gabel, fork), lüssel (Schlüssel, key), is nits (ist nichts, is nothing), mula
(Milch, milk), ass (heiss, hot).
Another remarkable observation is the following from the fifteenth month.
It reminds one of the behavior of hypnotized adults. On her grandmother's
birthday the child said some rhymes that she did not easily remember (there
were six short verses, thirty-four words). One night soon after the birthday
festival the little girl said off the verses, "almost for the first time without
any stumbling, in her sleep."
From this we see how much more quickly in regard to articulation and
independent use of words both these girls (the first of whom weighed only
six pounds at birth) learned to speak than did Sigismund's boy, my own boy,
and others.
Darwin observed (A Biographical Sketch of an Infant in "Mind, a Quarterly
Review of Psychology and Philosophy," July, 1877, pp. 285-294) in a son
of his, on the forty-seventh day of his life, a formation of sounds without
meaning. The child took pleasure in it. The sounds soon became manifold.
In the sixth month he uttered the sound da without any meaning; but in the
fifth he probably began to try to imitate sounds. In the tenth month the
imitation of sounds was unmistakable. In the twelfth he could readily
imitate all sorts of actions, such as shaking his head and saying "Ah." He
also understood intonations, gestures, several words, and short sentences.

When exactly seven months old, the child associated his nurse with her
name, so that when it was called out he would look round for her. In the
thirteenth month the boy used gestures to explain his wishes; for instance,
he picked up a bit of paper and gave it to his father, pointing to the fire, as
he had often seen and liked to see paper burned. At exactly the age of a year
he called food mum, which also signified "Give me food," and he used this
word instead of beginning to cry as formerly. This word with affixes
signified particular things to eat; thus shu-mum signified sugar, and a little
later licorice was called black-shu-mum. When asking for food by the word
mum he gave to it a very strongly marked tone of longing (Darwin says an
"interrogatory sound," which should mean the same thing). It is remarkable
that my child also, and in the tenth week for the first time, said mömm when
he was hungry, and that a child observed by Fritz Schultze (Dresden) said
mäm-mäm. Probably the syllable has its origin from the primitive syllable
ma and from hearing the word "mamma" when placed at the breast of the
mother.
Of the facts communicated by the physiologist Vierordt concerning the
language of the child ("Deutsche Revue" of January, 1879, Berlin, pp. 29-
46) should be mentioned this, that a babe in its second month expressed
pleasure by the vowel a, the opposite feeling by ä. This is true of many
other children also. In the third and fourth months the following syllables
were recognizable: mam, ämma, fu, pfu, ess, äng, angka, acha, erra, hab. A
lisping babe said, countless times, hab, hob, ha. These syllables coincide in
part with those given by other observers. The pf and ss only have not been
heard by me at this age, and I doubt whether f, for which teeth are needed,
was produced with purity so early. In the second and third years a child
pronounced the following words: beb (for bös, naughty); bebe (Besen,
beesann, broom); webbe (Wasser, watja, water); wewe (Löwe, löwee, lion);
ewebau (Elephant, elafant); webenau (Fledermaus, lebamaunz, bat);
babaube (Blasebalg, ba-abats, bellows); ade (Hase, hare); emele (Schemel,
footstool); gigod (Schildkröte, tortoise).
These examples illustrate very well the mogilalia and paralalia that exist in
every child, but with differences in each individual. Sigmatism and
parasigmatism and paralambdacism are strongly marked. At the same time
the influence of dialect is perceptible (Tübingen). The pronunciations given
in parentheses in the above instances were regularly used by my boy in his

twenty-sixth month when he saw the pictures of the objects named in his
picture-book. (In Jena.) One would not suppose beforehand that watja and
webbe have the same meaning. >From the ten examples may be seen,
further, that f, l, r, s, t present more difficulties of articulation than b, w, m,
g, and d; but neither must this be made a general conclusion. The w (on
account of the teeth) regularly comes later than the b, m, and r.
In the third year Vierordt noted down the following narration. I put in
brackets the words omitted by the child:
id. mama ... papa [Es] ist [eine] mama [und ein] papa gewesen
gäge
unn die habe wai und diese haben zwei Kinder gehabt,
didi gabt
unn, didi ... und [die] Kinder [sind in den] Wald [gegangen]
waud.
unn habe ohd und haben Holz geholt;
duh
na ... an e dann [sind sie] an ein Zuckerhäuschen gegangen
gugeeide guju
unn habe gäg und haben gegessen;
no ad die egg dann hat die Hexe gesagt:
gag
näg näg neidi "Nucker, Nucker Neisle
wie. immi. eidi wer [krabbelt] mir am Haüsle?"
no habe die didi dann haben die Kinder gesagt:
gag
die wid, de immi ["Der Wind, der Wind, das himmlische Kind"] Der
immi wid Wind, der himmlische, himmlische Wind.

(There were once a mama and a papa, and they had two children. And the
children went into the woods and fetched wood. Then they came to a little
sugar house and ate. Then the witch said: "Nucker, Nucker Neisle, who is
crawling in my little house?" Then the children said: "The wind, the wind,
the heavenly child"—The wind, the heavenly, heavenly wind.)
I told the same story to my boy for the first time when he was two years and
eighteen days old. He repeated, with an effort:
Ess ets aine mama unn ain papa edam (wesen).
unn (unt) diesa abn wais (twai) kinna (tinder) ghatf (dehappt).
unn die kinna sint (dsint) in den walt tegang (gangen).
unn-daben (habn) holz (olz) gehōl (ohlt).
dann sint (dsint) sie an ain utsom-händom (zuke-häussn) zezan (gangn).
unn (unt) habn (abn) ge ... (dessen).
dann hatt die hetse (hekksee) dsa (tsakt).
nanuck (nuke nuke) nana nainle (naisle).
wer ... (drabbelt) mir am häultje (äusle).
dann baben (habn) die ... (tinder) ze-a (dsagt).
der wiĕds (wind) ... (der fint).
dsēr wenn daz (das) himmelä (immlis) khint (tint).
Where the periods are, his attempts were all vain. At any rate, he would say
pta-pta as he usually did in fruitless efforts at imitating sounds. Just two
months after these first attempts, the same child recited for me the narrative,
using the expressions in the parentheses; this indicated a distinct progress in
articulation. A year after the first attempt, he easily repeated the whole, with
only a single error. He still said himmelä, and then himmliss, for
"himmlische."

A third boy (Düsseldorf) repeated the narrative much better, as early as his
twenty-fifth month. He made only the following errors, which were noted
by his mother, and kindly communicated by her to me:
gewesa for gewesen fai for zwei
gehat " gehabt kinner " kinder
gehat } " gesagt wlad " Wald
gehakt } hol-l-l-t " Holz
gegannen " gegangen uckerhäussen " Zuckerhäuschen
hamen " haben hekes " Hexe
hind hie " sind sie neissel " neisle
kabbell " krabbelt häussel " Häusle
himmli- " himmlische
he
The ss between two vowels was imperfect, reminding one of the English
"th" and the German "sch" and "s." The child could not at this time be
brought to learn by heart.
We see, from these three versions, how unequal the capacity for articulation
is in its development, and how varied it is in regard to the omission of
difficult consonants and the substitution of others in place of them, as well
as in regard to transposition, e. g., in wand, walt, wlad (Wald), wenn, wid,
wiĕds, fint (Wind)—and this even in the same individual.
As no one thus far has instituted comparisons of this sort, one more
example may be given. The verses taught by Sigismund to his child (for
whom I use the sign S) of twenty-one months, were often repeated by my
boy (A), of twenty-five months, to me, and by the boy from Düsseldorf (D),
in his twenty-fifth month, to his mother:
S A D

21st month 25th month 27th month 25th month
Guter tute tuten tuter guter
Mond bohnd monn mond Mund
Du gehst du tehz du gehts du dehst du gehs
so stille so tinne so tilte so tille ho tille

durch die duch die durch die durch die durch die
Abendwolken aten-bonten aben-woltn abendwolkn abehtwolken
him in in in hin
gehst so tehz so gehts so dehst so gehs so
traurig tautech (atich) treuja trauig terauhig
und ich und ich unn ich und ich und ich
fühle büne felam fühle fühle
dass ich dass ich dess ich dass ich dass ich
ohne Ruhe one ule ohno ruhge ohne ruhe ohni ruhe
bin bin bin bin bin
Guter tute hotten tuter guter
Mond bohnd mohn mond mond
du darfst du atz du dafp du darfst du darf
es wissen es bitten es witsen es wissen es wissen
weil du so bein du so leil du so weil du so weil du ho
verschwiegen bieten wereidsam verwiegen werwiegen
bist bitz bits bist bits
warum amum wa-um warum wahum
meine meine meine meinhe meine
Thränen tänen tänen thränen tänen
fliessen bieten flietjam fliessen fliessen
und mein und mein und mein und mein und mein
Herz so ätz so hetz so erst so hetz ho
traurig ist atich iz treutjam its trauig ist taudig ist
Errors 24 26 13 18
The errors are very unlike, and are characteristic for each child. The fact
that in the case of A the errors diminished by half within two months is to
be explained by frequency of recitation. I may add that the inclination to
recite was so often lacking that a good deal of pains was required to bring
the child to it.
From the vocabulary of the second year of the child's life, according to the
observations of Sigismund and myself, the following words of frequent use
are also worthy of notice:

{ Vater Mutter Anna Milch Kuh Pferd
{ (father) (mother) (milk) (cow) (horse)
S.{ atte amme anne minne muh hotto
{ ätte ämme dodo
{ tate ämmäm päd
{ fatte mämme
matte

{ va-ata mama anna mimi mumuh otto
P.{ papa mukuh pfowed
fowid

Vogel Mund Nase Ohr Haare Finger Da
(bird) (mouth) (nose) (ear) (hair) (there)
S. piep-piep mund ase ohn ale finne da
P. piep, pipiep mum nane o-a ha-i {finge da
{wi-er

Adieu Guten Tag Fort Ja Nein
(good-day) (away) (yes) (no)
S. adé tag fot ja nein
P. adjee tatach wott ja; jaja neinein
Grossmutter Kuk Zucker Karl Grete
(grandmother) (sugar)
{ tosutte o-tute zucke all ete
S.{ abutte
{ osmutte

P.{ a-mama kuk ucka kara dete
{ e-mama
Sigismund noticed the following names of animals (in imitation of words
given to the children): bä, put, gikgak, wäkwäk, huhu, ihz (Hinz). I did not
find these with my child. Sigismund likewise observed baie-baie for Wiege
(cradle), which my child was not acquainted with; päpä for verborgen

(hidden); eichönten for Eichhörnchen (squirrel); äpften for Äpfelchen (little
apple); mädsen and mädis for Mädchen (girl); atatt for Bernhard; hundis for
Hundchen, the Thüringian form of Hündchen (little dog); pot for Topf (pot);
dot for dort (yonder). On the other hand, both children used wehweh for
Schmerz (pain); caput for zerbrochen (broken to pieces); schoos, sooss for
"auf den Schooss möcht ich" (I want to get up in the lap); auf for "hinauf
möchte ich gehoben werden" (I want to be taken up); toich for Storch
(stork); tul for Stuhl (chair). A third child in my presence called his
grandmother mama-mama, i. e., twice-mamma, in distinction from the
mother. This, however, does not necessarily imply a gift for invention, as
the expression "Mamma's Mamma" may have been used of the
grandmother in speaking to the child.
Other children of the same age do very much the same. The boy D, though
he repeated cleverly what was said, was not good at naming objects when
he was expected to do this of himself. He would say, e. g., pilla for Spiegel
(mirror). At this same period (twenty-five months) he could not yet give the
softened or liquid sound of consonants (mouilliren). He said n and i and a
very plainly, and also i-a, but not nja, and not once "ja"; but, on the
contrary, always turned away angrily when his father or I, or others,
required it of him. But as late as the twenty-eighth month echolalia was
present in the highest degree in this very vigorous and intelligent child, for
he would at times repeat mechanically the last word of every sentence
spoken in his hearing, and even a single word, e. g., when some one asked
"Warum?" (why) he likewise said warum without answering the question,
and he continued to do it for days again and again in a vacant way, with and
without the tone of interrogation (which he did not understand). From this
we see again plainly that the imitation of sounds is independent of the
understanding of them, but is dependent on the functions of articulation.
These functions are discussed by themselves in the work of Prof. Fritz
Schultze, of Dresden, "Die Sprache des Kindes" ("The Language of the
Child," Leipsic, 1880, 44 pp.). The author defends in this the "principle of
the least effort." He thinks the child begins with the sounds that are made
with the least physiological effort, and proceeds gradually to the more
difficult sounds, i. e., those which require more "labor of nerve and
muscle." This "law" is nothing else than the "loi du moindre effort" which is
to be traced back to Maupertuis, and which was long ago applied to the

beginnings of articulation in children: e. g., by Buffon in 1749 ("Œuvres
complètes," Paris, 1844, iv, pp. 68, 69), and, in spite of Littré, again quite
recently by B. Perez[F] ("Les trois premières Années de l'Enfant," Paris,
1878, pp. 228-230, seq.) But this supposed "law" is opposed by many facts
which have been presented in this chapter and the preceding one. The
impossibility of determining the degree of "physiological effort" required
for each separate sound in the child, moreover, is well known. Besides,
every sound may be produced with very unequal expenditure of force; but
the facts referred to are enough for refutation of the theory. According to
Schultze, e. g., the vowels ought, in the process of development of the
child's speech, to appear in the following order, separated in time by long
intervals: 1. Ä; 2. A; 3. U; 4. O; 5. E; 6. I; 7. Ö; 8. Ü. It is correct that ä is
one of the vowels that may be first plainly distinguished; but neither is it the
first vowel audible—on the contrary, the first audible vowel is indistinct,
and imperfectly articulated vowels are the first—nor can we admit that ä is
produced with less of effort than is a. The reverse is the case. Further, ö is
said to present "enormous difficulties," and hence has the place next to the
last; but I have often heard the ö, short and long, perfectly pure in the
second month, long before the i, and that not in my child alone. From the
observations upon the latter, the order of succession appears to be the
following: Indeterminate vowels, u, ä, a, ö, o, ai, ao, i, e, ü, oeu (French
sound in cœur), au, oi. Thus, for the above eight vowels, instead of 1, 2, 3,
4, 5, 6, 7, 8, the order 3, 1, 2, 7, 4, 6, 5, 8, so that only i and ü keep their
place. But other children give a varying order, and these differences in the
order of succession of vowels as well as of consonants will certainly not be
referred to the "influence of heredity." Two factors of quite another sort are,
on the contrary, to be taken into account here in the case of every normal
child without exception, apart from the unavoidable errors in every assigned
order growing out of incomplete observation. In the earliest period and
when the babbling monologues begin, the cavity of the mouth takes on an
infinitely manifold variety of forms—the lips, tongue, lower jaw, larynx,
are moved, and in a greater variety of ways than ever afterward. At the
same time there is expiration, often loud expiration, and thus originates
entirely at random sometimes one sound, sometimes another. The child
hears sounds and tones new to him, hears his own voice, takes pleasure in
it, and delights in making sounds, as he does in moving his limbs in the
bath. It is natural that he should find more pleasure in some sounds, in

others less. The first are more frequently made by him on account of the
motor memories that are associated with the acoustic memories, and an
observer does not hear the others at all if he observes the child only from
time to time. In fact, however, almost all simple sounds, even the most
difficult, are formed in purity before they are used in speaking in the first
eight months—most frequently those that give the child pleasure, that
satisfy his desires, or lessen his discomfort. It is not to be forgotten that
even the ä, which requires effort on account of the drawing back and
spreading out of the tongue, diminishes discomfort. The fretful babe feels
better when he cries u-ä than when he keeps silent. The second factor is
determined by the surroundings of the child. Those sounds which the child
distinctly hears he will be able to imitate correctly sooner than he will other
sounds: but he will be in condition to hear most correctly, first of all, the
sounds that are most frequent, just because these most frequently excite the
auditory nerve and its tract in the brain; secondly, among these sounds that
are acoustically most sharply defined, viz., first the vowels, then the
resonants (m, n, ng); last, the compound "friction-sounds" (fl, schl). But it is
only in part that the surroundings determine this order of succession for the
sounds. Another thing that partly determines and modifies this order is the
child's own unwearied practice in forming consonant-sounds. He hears his
own voice now better than he did at an earlier period when he was forming
vowels only. He most easily retains and repeats, among the infinitely
manifold consonants that are produced by loud expiration, those which have
been distinctly heard by him. This is owing to the association of the motor
and the acoustic memory-image in the brain. These are the most frequent in
his speech. Not until later does the mechanical difficulty of articulation
exert an influence, and this comes in at the learning of the compound
sounds. Hence there can not be any chronological order of succession of
sounds that holds good universally in the language of the child, because
each language has a different order in regard to the frequency of appearance
of the sounds; but heredity can have no influence here, because every child
of average gifts, though it may hear from its birth a language unknown to its
ancestors, if it hears no other, yet learns to speak this language perfectly.
What is hereditary is the great plasticity of the entire apparatus of speech,
the voice, and with it a number of sounds that are not acquired, as m. An
essential reason for the defective formation of sounds in children born deaf

is the fact that they do not hear their own voice. This defect may also be
hereditary.
The treatise of F. Schultze contains, besides, many good remarks upon the
technique of the language of the child, but, as they are of inferior
psychogenetic interest, they need not be particularly mentioned here. Others
of them are only partially confirmed by the observations, as is shown by a
comparison with what follows.
Gustav Lindner ("Twelfth Annual Report of the Lehrer-seminars at
Zschopau," 1882, p. 13) heard from his daughter, in her ninth week, arra or
ärrä, which was uttered for months. Also äckn appeared early. The principle
of the least effort Lindner finds to be almost absolutely refuted by his
observations. He rightly remarks that the frequent repetitions of the same
groups of sounds, in the babbling monologues, are due in part to a kind of
pleasure in success, such as urges adults also to repeat their successful
efforts. Thus his child used to imitate the reading of the newspaper (in the
second half-year) by degattegattegatte. In the eleventh and twelfth months
the following were utterances of hers in repeating words heard: ómama, oia
(Rosa), batta (Bertha), ächard (Richard), wiwi (Friedchen), agga (Martha),
olla olla (Olga, her own name). Milch (milk) she called mimi, Stuhl (chair)
tuhl, Laterne (lantern), katonne, the whistle of an engine in a neighboring
factory, wuh (prolonged, onomatopoetic), Paul, gouch, danke (thank you),
dagn or dagni, Baum (tree), maum. Another child substituted u for i and e,
saying hund for "Kind," and uluwant for "Elephant"; thus, ein fomme hund
lass wäde much for "ein frommes Kind lass werden mich" (let me become a
pious child). Lindner's child, however, called "werden" not wäde but wegen;
and "turnen" she called tung, "blau" balau. At the end of the second year no
sound in the German language presented difficulties to the child. Her
pronunciation was, however, still incorrect, for the correct pronunciation of
the separate sounds does not by any means carry with it the pronunciation
of them in their combinations. This remark of Lindner's is directly to the
point, and is also confirmed, as I find, by the first attempts of the child of
four years to read a word after having learned the separate letters. The
learning of the correct pronunciation is also delayed by the child's
preference of his original incorrect pronunciation, to which he is
accustomed, and which is encouraged by imitations of it on the part of his
relatives. Lindner illustrates this by good examples. His child continued to

say mimela after "Kamilla" was easy for him. Not till the family stopped
saying it did "Kamilla" take its place. At the age of three and a half years
the child still said gebhalten for "behalten" and vervloren for "verloren," as
well as gebhüte for "behüte." "Grosspapa" was called successively opapa,
gropapa, grosspapa. Grossmama had a corresponding development.
"Fleisch" (meat) was first called jeich, then leisch; "Kartoffeln" (potatoes)
kaffom, then kaftoffeln; "Zschopau" sopau, schodau, tschopau;
"Sparbüchse" (savings-box) babichse, spabichse, spassbüchse,
sparzbüchse; "Häring" (herring, also gold-fish) hänging. A sound out of the
second syllable goes into the first. The first question, isn das? from "Was ist
denn das?" (what is that, pray?) was noticed in the twentieth month; the
interrogative word was? (what) in the twenty-second month. Wo? (where)
and Wohin? (whither) had the same meaning (that of the French où?), and
this as late as in the fourth year. The word "Ich" (I) made its appearance in
the thirtieth month. As to verbs, it is to be mentioned that, with the child at
two years of age, before the use of the tenses there came the special word
denoting activity in general: thus he said, when looking at a head of Christ
by Guido Reni, thut beten, instead of "betet" ("does pray," instead of
"prays"). The verb "sein" (be) was very much distorted: Warum warst du
nicht fleissig gebist? (gebist for gewesen) (why have you not been
industrious?). (Cf., pp. 172, 177.) He inflected bin, binst (for bist), bint (ist),
binn (sind), bint (sind and seid), binn (sind). Further, wir isn (wir sind, we
are), and nun sei ich ruhig (sei for bin) (now I am quiet), and ich habe nicht
ruhig geseit (habe for "bin" and geseit for "gewesen") (I have not been
quiet), are worthy of note, because they show how strong an influence in
the formation of words during the transition period is exerted by the forms
most frequently heard—here the imperative. The child used first of all the
imperative; last the subjunctive. The superlative and comparative were not
used by this child until the fourth year.
The observations of Lindner (edited anew in the periodical "Kosmos" for
1882) are among the best we have.
In the case of four brothers and sisters, whose mother, Frau Dr. Friedemann,
of Berlin, has most kindly placed at my disposal trustworthy observations
concerning them, the first articulate sounds heard were ärä, hägä, äche, and
a deep guttural, rattling or snarling sound (Schnarren); but the last was
heard from only one of the children.

The above syllables contain three consonants (r, h, ch) that are declared by
many, wrongly, to be very late in their appearance. These children in their
first attempts at speaking often left out the first consonant of a word
pronounced for them, or else substituted for it the one last heard, as if their
memory were not equal to the retaining of the sounds heard first: e. g., in
the fifteenth month they would say tĕ, t for Hut (hat), Lale for Rosalie; in
the twenty-fourth, kanke for danke (thank you), kecke for Decke (covering),
kucker for Zucker (sugar), huch, huche for Schuh, Schuhe (shoe, shoes),
fifteenth month. In the last two cases comes in, to explain the omission, also
the mechanical difficulty of the Z and Sch. The oldest of these children, a
girl, when a year old, used to say, when she refused anything, ateta, with a
shake of the head. She knew her own image in the glass, and pointed at it,
saying täte (for Käte). In the following table the Roman figures stand for
the month; F1, F2, F3, F4, for the four children in the order of their ages. No
further explanation will be needed:
VIII. papa distinctly (F1); dada, da, deda, first syllables (F4); derta for
Bertha (F1).

X. dada, name for all possible objects (F2); papa (F3); ada, mama, detta
(F4).

XII. puppe (doll) correctly; täte for Käte (F1); ida, papa, tata for Tante
(aunt); täte (F4).

XIII. mama, detta for Bertha; wauwau (F2); lala (F4).

XIV. ba for baden (bathe) (F2).

XV. hia for Ida; ate for artig (well-behaved); da for danke; bappen for
essen (eat); piep; ja, nein (yes, no) correctly (F1).

XVI. ei (egg) correctly; feisch for Fleisch (meat); waffer for Wasser (water);
wuffe for Suppe (F1); tatte for Tante; tittak; Hut (F3).

XIX. at for Katze (cat); duh for Kuh (cow); wān for Schwan (swan); nine
for Kaninchen (rabbit); betta for Blätter (leaves); butta for Butterblume

(buttercup); fiedemann for Friedemann; täti for Käti (F1); gad for gerade
(straight); kumm for krumm (crooked) (F3).

XX. fidat for Zwieback (biscuit); tierdatten for Thiergarten (zoölogical
garden); waden for wagen (carriage); nähnaden for Nähnadel (needle);
wewette for serviette (napkin); teid for Kleid (dress); weife for Seife (soap);
famm for Schwamm (sponge); tonnat for Konrad; potne for Portemonnaie;
hauf for herauf (up here); hunta for herunter (down here); hiba papa for
lieber (dear) papa (F1); tü for Thür (door); bau for bauen (build); teta for
Käte; manna for Amanda; tafor guten Tag (good-day); ku for Kugel (ball)
(F2); appudich for Apfelmuss (apple-sauce); mich for Milch (milk); ule
pomm for Ulrich komm (Ulrich come); ku for Kuchen (cake); lilte for
Mathilde (F3).

XXI. teine for Steine (stones); bimelein for Blümelein (little flowers);
mamase for Mamachen (little mama); tettern for klettern (climb); Papa
weint nis (Papa doesn't cry), first sentence (F1); Mamase, Täte artig—Tuss
(means Mamachen, Käte ist wieder artig, gib ihr einen Kuss) (Mamma,
darling, Katy is good again, give her a kiss) (F1); Amanda's Hut, Mamases
Hirm (for Schirm) (Amanda's hat, mamma's umbrella), first use of the
genitive case (F1); Mein Buch (my book); dein Ball (thy ball) (F1); das? for
was ist das? (what is that?) in the tone of interrogation (F1) dida for Ida;
lala for Rosalie; fadi for Fahne (flag); büda for Brüderchen (little brother);
hu-e for Schuhe (shoes); mai maich, for meine Milch (my milk) (F2).

XXII. kusch for Kuss (kiss); sch generally used instead of s for months (F3).

XXIII. koka for Cacao; batt for Bett (bed); emmu for Hellmuth (light-
heartedness); nanna mommom (Bon-bon); papa, appel for Papa, bitte einen
Apfel (Papa, please, an apple) (F2); petscher for Schwester (sister); till for
still; bils for Milch; hiba vata for lieber Vater (dear father) (F3).

XXIV. pija eine for eine Fliege (a fly); pipik for Musik. Sentences begin to
be formed (F3).

XXV. pater for Vater (father); appelsine for Apfelsine (orange) (F2).