STUDIES OF CHILDHOOD. 657 



The case of destructive cruelty is somewhat different. Let me 

 give a well- observed instance. A little boy of two years and two 

 months, " after nearly killing a fly on the window pane, seemed 

 surprised and disturbed, looking round for an explanation, then 

 gave it himself: 'Mr. Fy dom (gone) to by by'; but he would 

 not touch it or another fly again a doubt evidently remained, 

 and he continued uneasy about it." Here we have, I think, the 

 instinctive attitude of a child toward the outcome of its destruc- 

 tive impulse. And this destructive impulse, which as we know 

 becomes more clearly destructive when experience has taught 

 what result follows, is not necessarily cruel in the sense of in- 

 cluding an idea of the animal's suffering. Animal movement, 

 especially that of tiny things, has something exciting and pro- 

 voking about it. The child's own activity, and the love of power 

 which is bound up with it, impel him to arrest the movement. 

 This is the meaning, I suspect, of the fascination of the fly on the 

 window pane, and other small capturable creatures, as later on of 

 birds. The cat's prolonged chase of the mouse, into which some- 

 thing of a dramatic make-believe enters, owes its zest to a like 

 delight in the realization of the captor's power. 



Along with this love of power there goes often something of a 

 child's fierce, untamable curiosity. A boy of four, finding that 

 his mother was shocked at hearing him express a wish to see a 

 pigeon which a dog had just killed, remarked : " Is it rude to look 

 at a dead pigeon ? I want to see where its blood is." I am dis- 

 posed to think that the crushing of flies and moths and the pull- 

 ing of worms to pieces, and so forth, are prompted by this curi- 

 osity. The child wants to see where the blood is, what the bones 

 are like, how the wings are fastened in, and so forth. 



A like combination of love of power and of curiosity seems to 

 underlie other directions of childish destructiveness, as the break- 

 ing of toys and the pulling of flowers to pieces. In certain cases, 



as in C 's destruction of a whole garden of peonies, the love of 



power or effect overtops and outlives the curiosity, becoming a 

 sort of savage greed.* 



I think, then, that we may give the little child the benefit of 

 the doubt, and not assign its rough handling of sentient things to 

 a wish to inflict pain, or even to an indifference to pain of which 

 he is clearly aware. Wanton activity, the curiosity of the experi- 

 menter, and delight in realizing one's power and producing an 

 effect, seem sufficient to explain most of the alleged cruelty of the 



* Ruskin tells us that when a child he pulled flowers to pieces " in no morbid curiosity, 

 but in admiring wonder " (Praeterita, 88). Goethe gives an amusing account of his whole- 

 sale throwing of crockery out of the window, inspired by the delight of watching the droll 

 way in which it was smashed on the pavement. 



