e 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