As one might almost expect, the province of biography also yields its contribution to the problem of psychological types. Chiefly we have to thank the natural science method of Wilhelm Ostwald [1] who was able, by means of a biographical comparison of certain outstanding natural scientists, to establish a typical psychological antithesis, which he termed the classic and romantic types [2] "While the former", says Ostwald, "is characterized by the well-rounded perfection of each individual achievement, and at the same time by a rather withdrawn nature whose personal effect upon his environment is but slight, the romanticist stands out by reason of the very opposite characters. His quality lies not so much in the perfecting of individual work as in the variety and telling originality of numerous achievements that follow each other in rapid succession; in addition, the effect he exercises upon his contemporaries is, as a rule, immediate and impressive ... It must also be pointed out that the rapidity of mental reaction is the decisive criterion of the particular type to which the scientist belongs. Pioneers who possess great reactive rapidity are the 'romantics,' while those with slower mental reactions are the 'classics' (pp. 44 fl.). The classic produces slowly, as a rule, only bringing forth the ripest fruit of his mind relatively late in life" (p. 89). A never-failing characteristic of the classic type, according to Ostwald, is the "absolute need to stand without error or blemish in the public eye" (p. 94). "As a compensation for his lack of personal influence, the classic type is assured an all the more potent effect with his writings" (p. 100).
This effect, however, seems also to be beset with limitations, as the following case, quoted by Ostwald from the biography of Helmholtz, testifies. A propos Helmholtz's mathematical researches concerning the effect of induction-shocks, Du Bois-Raymond writes to the scientist: "You should devote yourself -- and please don't take this amiss -- much more carefully to the problem of how to abstract yourself from your own standpoint of science, so that you may understand the standpoint of one who, as yet, knows nothing about the matter, or what it is you want to discuss." To which Helmholtz replies: "And as to the paper, I really took great pains this time in the presentation of my material, and I imagined that, at last, I might be satisfied with it." Whereat Ostwald observes: "He is quite oblivious of the problem from the reader's point of view, because, true to his 'classic' type, he is writing for himself, i.e. he presents the material in a way that seems to him indisputable, while the rest do not matter at all." What Du Bois-Raymond writes in the same letter to Helmholtz is extremely characteristic: "I have read both the treatise and the summary several times without understanding what you have actually done, or the way you did it. Finally, I myself discovered your method, and I am now gradually beginning to understand your presentation."
For the classic type this case is true to the life, for he seldom or never succeeds "in kindling souls of like nature with his own" (p. 100), a thoroughly typical event, which shows that the influence ascribed to him through writing is, as a rule, largely posthumous, i.e. it appears only in the subsequent discovery of his writings, as in the case of Robert Mayer. Moreover, his writings often seem to lack any convincing, inspiring, or directly personal appeal, since, ultimately, writing is just as much a personal expression as conversation or lecturing. The influence the classic type transmits through writing depends not so much, therefore, upon the externally stimulating qualities of his writings as upon the circumstance that these are all that finally remain of him, and that only from these can the man's actual achievement subsequently be reconstructed. For it seems to be a fact, which is also alluded to in Ostwald's description, that the classic seldom communicates what he is doing and the way he does it, but only what he arrives at, quite regardless of the fact that his public possesses no inkling of his route. It would seem that his way and method of work are of less importance to the classic just because they are most intimately linked up with his personality, which is something he always keeps in the background.
Ostwald compares his two types with the four ancient temperaments (p. 372) with special reference to the peculiarity of slow or rapid reactions, which in his view seems to be fundamental. The slow reaction corresponds with the phlegmatic and the melancholic temperaments, the quick reaction with the sanguine and the choleric. He regards the sanguine and the phlegmatic as the normal middle types, whereas the choleric and the melancholic seem to him morbid exaggerations of the basic character.
If one glances through the biographies of Humphry Davy and Liebig upon the one hand, and of Robert Mayer and Faraday upon the other, one cannot but perceive that the former are both distinctly "romantic" and sanguinely-choleric, while the latter are just as clearly "classic" and phlegmatically-melancholic. This observation of Ostwald's seems to me entirely convincing, since the four antique temperaments were most probably constructed from the same principle of experience as that upon which Ostwald has also established the classic and romantic types. The four temperaments are obviously differentiated from the standpoint of affectivity, i.e. the manifest affective reactions. This classification is, however, superficial from the psychological standpoint, for it judges exclusively from the outer appearance. According to this ancient division, the man whose behaviour is outwardly peaceful and inconspicuous belongs to the phlegmatic temperament. He passes as 'phlegmatic', and is, thereupon, classified among the phlegmatics. But, in reality, he may conceivably be all this yet no 'phlegmatic', but on the contrary a' deeply sensitive, even passionate, nature, in whom emotion pursues the inward course, wherewith the intensest inner excitement expresses itself through the greatest outward calm.
Jordan's type-conception takes this fact into account. He judges not merely from the surface impression, but from a rather deeper grasp of human nature. Ostwald's fundamental marks of distinction, like the antique temperamental divisions, depend chiefly upon the external impression. His romantic type is characterized by the presence of a quick outward reaction. Whereas the classic type reacts just as quickly maybe, but within.
As one reads the Ostwald biographies, one sees at once that the romantic type corresponds with the extravert, while the classic with the introvert. Humphry Davy and Liebig are perfect examples of the extraverted type, just as Robert Mayer and Faraday are model introverts. The outward reaction is characteristic of the extravert, just as the inner reaction distinguishes the introvert. The extravert has no especial difficulty in his personal manifestations; he asserts his presence almost involuntarily, because in obedience to his whole nature he strives to transvey himself into the object. He easily gives himself to the world about him, and in a form necessarily comprehensible and, therefore, acceptable to his world. The form is, as a rule, pleasing, but, in any case, intelligible, even when it is unpleasing. For, as a result of his quick reaction and discharge, both valuable and worthless contents will be transveyed into the object, winning manners hand-in-hand with forbidding thoughts and affects. But from this quick unloading and transference there is less elaboration of his contents, which are, therefore, easy to understand; so that, even from the mere fleeting apposition of immediate expressions, a shifting succession of images is produced which clearly present to the public eye the ways and means by which the investigator has attained his result.
The introvert, on the other hand, who reacts almost entirely within, does not, as a rule, divest himself of his reactions. (Affect-explosions excepted). He suppresses his reactions, which, however, can be just as quick as those of the extravert. They do not play on the surface -- hence the introvert may easily give the impression of slowness. Since immediate reactions are always strongly personal, the extravert cannot choose but exhibit his personality. The introvert, on the other hand, hides his personality, because he suppresses his immediate reactions. 'Feeling-into' is not his aim, nor the transference of his contents into the object, but rather abstraction from the object. Hence, instead of immediately divesting himself of his .reactions, he prefers to make a long internal elaboration of them, before finally bringing forth a prepared result. His constant effort is to free his result, as far as possible, from personal elements, to present it clearly differentiated from every personal relation. His contents, the matured fruit of prolonged inner labour, emerge into the outer world in the most completely abstracted and depersonalized form. Accordingly, they are also difficult to understand, because the public lacks all knowledge of the preliminary steps, or the kind of route by which the investigator reaches his result. A personal relation to his public is also lacking, because the introvert in suppressing himself shrouds his personality from the public eye. But often enough it is just the personal. relationship which brings about the understanding that was denied to mere intellectual apprehension. This circumstance must constantly be borne in mind when judgment is made upon an introvert's development. As a rule, one is ill-informed about the introvert, because his real self is not visible. His incapacity for immediate outward reactions occludes his personality. Hence, to the public eye, his life provides ample scope for the play of phantastic interpretations and projections, should he ever chance -- by virtue of his achievements -- to become the object of general interest.
The observation of Ostwald that "early mental maturity is characteristic of the romantic", needs, therefore, to be somewhat modified. The romantic is certainly able to display his prematurity, but the' classic', although perhaps equally mature, may conceal his products within himself, not designedly of course, but from an inability for immediate expression. As a result of deficient differentiation of feeling, the introvert exhibits a certain awkwardness, a real infantilism in the personal relation, i.e. in that element which the Englishman calls 'personality'. His personal manifestations are so uncertain and vague, and he himself is so sensitive in this respect, that he dares to reveal himself to his circle only with what, in his own eyes, is an apparently finished product. He also prefers to let his product speak for him, instead of personally interceding on its behalf.
The natural result of such an attitude means a considerably delayed appearance upon the world's stage; so frequently is this so, that the introvert might easily be described as late in maturing. Such a superficial judgment, however, wholly ignores the fact that the infantilism of the seemingly early matured and outwardly differentiated extravert is simply within, in his relation to his inner world. In the early matured extravert this fact is only subsequently revealed, in some moral immaturity, for instance, or, as is so often the case, in an astonishing infantilism of thought.
As a rule, the romantic has more favourable opportunities for development and growth than the classic, a fact which Ostwald justly observes. He makes a visible and convincing appearance before his public, allowing his personal importance to be recognized immediately through his external reactions. In this way many valuable relations are quickly established, which enrich his work and give breadth (p. 374) to its development.
The classic, on the other hand, remains hidden; his lack of personal relations limits any extension of his sphere of work, but thereby his activity gains in depth and his labour has lasting value.
Both types possess enthusiasm, but, while that which fills the extravert's heart overflows from his mouth, the introvert's lips are sealed by the enthusiasm that moves him within. Kindling no flame of enthusiasm in the world about him, he even lacks a circle of colleagues of equal calibre. Even had he, too, the impelling desire to impart his knowledge, his laconic expression, as also the mystified lack of comprehension it produces in his public, would deter him from further communications; for it very frequently happens that no one believes he has anything extraordinary to give. His expression, his 'personality' appear commonplace to the superficial judgment, while not infrequently the romantic immediately appears 'interesting' and understands the art of encouraging this impression by every sort of means, whether permissible or not. This differentiated capacity for expression provides a suitable background for impressive ideas, besides being an accommodating assistance in helping the deficient understanding of his public over the interstices of his thinking.
Ostwald's emphasis upon the successful and brilliant academic activities of the romantic is, therefore, entirely expressive of this type. The romantic feels himself into his pupils and knows the right word at the right moment. But the classic is held to his own thoughts and problems, and thus is blind to his pupils' difficulties in understanding. Speaking of the classic Helmholtz, Ostwald remarks (p. 377):
"In spite of his prodigious learning, comprehensive experience, and richly creative mind, he was never a good teacher: his reactions never came instantaneously, but only after a certain lapse of time. Confronted by a pupil's question in the laboratory, he would promise to think it over, and only after several days would he bring the answer; this turned out to be so remote from the situation of the pupil that only in the rarest cases was it possible for the latter to discover any connection between the difficulty he had felt and the well-rounded theory of a general problem subsequently expounded by the teacher. Thus, not only was the immediate help lacking upon which every beginner very largely relies, but also that guidance commensurate with the pupil's personality by which he may gradually develop from the natural dependence of the beginner to the complete mastery of his chosen branch of science. All such defects have their immediate source in the inability of the teacher to react directly as the need of the pupil presents itself, his reactions demanding so much time for their expected and desired operation that their very effect is lost."
Ostwald's explanation of this as the result of the slowness of the introvert's reaction seems to me inadequate. There is no sort of proof that Helmholtz possessed a low reactive rapidity. He merely reacted inwardly rather than outwardly. Because the pupil was not felt-into, as it were, the latter's need was dark to him. His attitude is wholly bent upon his thoughts; hence instead of the personal wish of the pupil, he reacts to the thoughts the pupil's question has excited in himself, and this he does so rapidly and fundamentally that he at once divines a further connection which, at the moment, he is incapable of appraising and rendering back in an abstract and finely elaborated form. This is not because his thinking is too slow, but because it is objectively impossible to seize in a moment the entire dimensions of the problem divined and give it a ready formula. Naturally, not observing that the pupil has no inkling of such a problem he firmly believes he has an important problem to deal with, and not merely an extremely simple and, to him, trivial piece of advice which could be given in a moment, if only he could allow himself to see what the pupil was waiting for to enable him to get on with his work. But as an introvert he has not felt-into the other's psychology; he has only felt-into his own theoretical problems, his inner world, where he goes on spinning the threads of the theoretical problem taken from the pupil -- threads which are certainly germane to the probleri1 but not to the pupil's momentary need. Naturally, from the academic standpoint, this peculiar attitude of the introverted teacher is very unsuitable, quite apart from the unfavourable personal impression it engenders. He gives an impression of slowness, singularity, even thick-headedness; on which account he is very often under-estimated, not only by the larger public but also by his own smaller circle of colleagues, until one day his work and ideas are eventually followed up, elaborated, and translated by later investigators.
Gauss, the mathematician, had such a distaste for teaching that he informed each individual student who reported himself that, in all probability, his course of lectures would not take place, hoping by this means to unburden himself of the necessity of giving them. That teaching was so painful to him, .as Ostwald justly observes, lay in the "necessity of pronouncing definite scientific results in his lectures without having previously established and elaborated every detail of the text. To be obliged to communicate his results to others without such elaboration may have felt to him as though he were exhibiting himself before strangers in his night-shirt" (p. 380). With this observation Ostwald touches a very essential point, namely the above-mentioned disinclination of the introvert, for any part of himself, other than quite impersonal communications, to reach the surrounding world.
Ostwald emphasizes the fact that, as a rule, the romantic is compelled to bring his career to. a close at a comparatively early stage on account of increasing exhaustion. He is also disposed to attribute this fact to his greater reactive rapidity. Since this concept of mental reactive rapidity is, in my view, still remote from the region of scientific fact, and since no proof is, as yet, forthcoming, neither is it susceptible of proof that the external reaction takes place more rapidly than the internal, it seems to me that the earlier exhaustion of the extraverted discoverer must be essentially related to the external reaction peculiar to his type. He begins to publish very early, becomes rapidly famous, and soon develops an intensive activity, both academically and as a publicist; he cultivates personal relationships among a very wide circle of friends and acquaintances and, in addition to all this, he takes an unusual interest in the development of his pupils. The introverted pioneer begins to publish later; his works succeed one another at longer intervals, and are mostly sparing in expression; repetitions of a theme are avoided, except where something entirely new can be brought into them. The pithy and laconic style of his scientific communications, which frequently omit all information concerning the way he has traversed or the material elaborated, hinders any general understanding or acceptance of his works; and so he remains unknown. His distaste for teaching does not bring him pupils; he is so little known that any relations with a larger circle of acquaintances is precluded; as a rule, therefore, he lives a retired life, not from necessity merely but also from choice. Thus he escapes the danger of spending himself too lavishly. His inner reactions lead him constantly back to the circumscribed tracts of his research activities; these in themselves are very exacting, proving as time goes on so deeply exhausting as to permit of no incidental expenditure of energy on behalf of acquaintances or pupils. There is the additional circumstance that the manifest success of the romantic is also a vitalizing and invigorating factor, but this is very often denied the classic, so that he is forced to seek his only satisfaction in the perfecting of his work of research. In the light of these considerations, the relatively premature exhaustion of the romantic genius seems to me to depend more upon the external reaction than upon the higher reactive rapidity.
Ostwald does not regard his type division as absolute, in the sense that every investigator can be shown forthwith to belong to one or other type. He is, however, of the opinion "that the really great men" can generally be included quite definitely in one or other end-group, while the "average people" much more frequently represent the middle position in respect to reactive rapidity (pp. 372 ff.). In conclusion, I would like to observe that the Ostwald biographies contain material which though partial, has a very valuable bearing on the psychology of the types, and strikingly exhibits the coincidence of the romantic with the extraverted type, and the classic with the introverted.
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Notes:
1. Ostwald, Grosse Manner, iii, iv (Leipzig, 1910);
2. l.c., p. 44.