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Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche selon le cas: le symbole -*- signifie "A SUIVRE". le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmAs a des taux de reduction diffArents. Lor***'m le document est trop grand pour Atre repw"* t en un seul clichA. il est filmA A partir de Tangie supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 4 S 6 IN 1 / C^r r ■^'^.. ■---/^ 'y^y INTELLECT, THE EMOTIONS, AND THE lORAL NATUfiE. \ \ INTELLECT, THE EMOTlOJiS, Atll} THK MORAL NATURE. i BV EDINBURGH: THOMAS CONSTABLE AND CO LONUON, HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO. MDOCCr-V. — ■ " » II . I. J ■■, « , . n]«S s^ i_ , xr2 I ) ■DTlfBUaOH : T. C0U8TABUI, pb,5„r TO HER HAJSaTT. ■ r CONTENTS. Introijuction, fAGK 1 Mind and Matter, tlie two siib- stances about which philoHophy is conversant, Importance of (h'stinction botweon Matter and Mind, Two classes of philosopliers, ac- cording to the predominance assigned in their systems to Matter or Mint!, Consciousness the only immediate object of cognition, . (."onsciousness the starting-point of philosophy, .... How the mind passes from a state of simple consciousness to the idea of self, ... Descartes' Enthymerae, The Gennan " Ego," . . ' The amount of De-scartes' Enthy- meme. Fichte's formula, . The idea of personal existence, the first idea of the awakening mind, II. Origin of the Idea of Externality, . Dr. Brown's account of this idea,' . Remarks on Dr. Brown's account of this idea, Error of Dr. Brown in denying any peculiar intuition in order to this idea; Special difficulty in regard to the mode of communication between Mind and Matter. . 13 .' \ 14 14 15 16 16 16 17 18 19 21 24 24 27 Vanity of attempting to account for this communication, or explain the mode of it, .... The principle of common sense, Coincidence between Roid, Oswald, and Beattie, and the French phi- losopher, Father Buffer, . III. The Idea of Externality not that of an external world, . Origin of the idea of matter, IV. Muscular resistance as distinguish- ed from tactual. Dr. Brown the first to take notice of this distinction, . Matter, what, as first apprehended by the mind, .... Other properties of matter, Idoaofsul- mce. Substance and quality distinguished. The mind informed of its own ex- istence, and its own qualities, pari passu with its informa- tions respecting matter, This indicates the laws of our being, The idea of Extension, Wliat gives us this idea, The ideas of magnitude and figure. How the infant mind is concerned in the attainment of its first or primitive ideas, ... 28 29 29 30 31 35 35 35 35 35 39 39 40 40 41 41 vi OONTENTH. Magnitude, Kgiire, distance, not ob- jects of sight, ... Illustnitions to show that these ,m- acquired objouts of vision, or con- nected with vision only by a pro- cess of association, . VI. Primary Qualities of Matter, Dr. Brown's view as to the primary qualities, The secondary qualities of matter, Weight, or gravitation, a law ra- ther than a property of matter. Weight but the action of gravi- tation, The centripetal and centrifugal forces the two grand and per- vading agencies in the universe, The secondary qualities of matter but modifications of the primary, according to Locke, . Difference in the child's process of attaining its ideas from this point forward, . . . _ i VII. Idea of Space, ■ ■ . . I Locke's account of this idea, i Reid's account of this idea, . r What space is according to the German metaphysicians, . . .g What, according to Dr. Samuel Clarke, .... 5 Three particulars noticed by Cousin in connexion with this idea, . 5: Has space objectivity ? . . 5( The idea of Time, 5c Locke's account of the idea, . 55 Origin of the idea according to Dr Brown, ..... 60 View of Cousin, . . , _ gj Merit of Locke, according to Cou- sin, in tracing the origin of this idea, gg Though the notion of time derived from succession, not itself suc- cession, . , . . . g4 42 Time absolute, The idea of Eternity, 43 47 47 48 49 40 50 Idea of Power, Origin of the idea, Nature of the idea, • Efficiency denied to power, . ' Barrow, Hobbes, Butler, and fier- keley, quoted by Dugald Stewart ^ as denying eflBcioncy in power, I The doctrine of Malebranche, I Atheism of Hume in denying effi- ; ciency to power, . ' . j Leslie's approbation of Hume's doc- trine, ... I Opposition of the General Assom- j bly of the Church of Scotland to j Leslie's appointment to the Chair I of Mathematics in the Univer- sity of Edinburgh, . Brown's defence of Leslie, . Hume and Brown's views respec- tively, . , . _ Inadmissibility of these views, The views of others, though de- n.ving eflSciency to subordinate cnfises, still consistent with effi- ciency in the Great First Cause, The language of Barrow, Hobbes, Butler, and Berkeley, consistent with the supposition of efficiency ill power, although that efficiency might not be detected, The denial of efficiency in second- ary causes, intended to lead to the Great First Cause, Language of Scripture in reference to God as the supremo and uni- versally controlling power or cause, .... Dr. Reid's view, (note.,) Sir William Hamilton's remarks upon this view, (note,) Whewell quoted, (note,) Classification of the sciences accord- ing to the simple ideas traced, with the ideas of motion and number, Metaphysics a " Prima Philosophia, " TAUK (J4 (!4 (;.'■> 07 (>8 68 »i9 70 70 70 70 70 7;i 7a 75 76 76 76 76 77 78 ■l CONTENTS. vn 65 65 67 68 68 69 70 "0 Whcwell it-KanlB tho Hiinple iileun tt8 forniH of the understanilitiR, . Dr. (JhiilmorB'N stricturo npoii Whowcll, UnroaikN upon iIk^ view which niakiJH the simple ideas forms of tho uiiderBtanding, . VIII. Peculiar character uf the prmary or fundamental ideas, I'rogrcHs olthe mind f.om this stago diflbrent from r.il its previous progress, The pan wliicl- sensation, and the part whici) mind, have, respec- tively, ill our primitive or fun- dament'ti ideas, Sensatio'i, , Tho necessity of an intellectual principle to account for the phe- noaiena of mind, Sonsalion still the first fact or law of mind to Im observed, I'ho question, When does sensation cease, and a purely mental state commence ? . . . Important to mark this, The tendency to forget mind amid the claims of matter, Materialism the result of too great an eng.ossment in mere matter, A materialistic tendency by no means to bo treated as one not possible, . , . _ Mind not an organic result, Importance attached to mind, when spoken of as tho soul in Scripture, 94 Hoctrine of the ancient Epicureans, 94 IX. Classification of philosophers ac- cording to a sensational or ideal- istic tendency, . t'escartes and Gassoudi fom.ders of separate schools of pndosophy, I ho Jrench metaphysicians for the raost part followers of Gassendi, iiocke claimed by this school 78 79 79 82 83 8!' 84 85 87 88 88 88 89 91 92 95 96 1)6 96 False grounds of this claim, OaHHondi and Condillac quoted, Injustice done to Locke ; his real views, . . Views of Malebranche, The Enoyolopretb'sts, Materialism consequent upon sen- satioi alisra, Results )f materialism, PAfll 96 97 97 100 101 101 101 Intellection the antithesis of sensa- , ,^'^°' 102 inteJJoctiou tho action of pure mind, 10.!) The mind generally represented as possessed of certain faculties, . 103 Tlie moro philosophical view of mind, 104 The laws of mind, . . . 105 The principles of mind, . 105 The voluntary actions of mind, . 106 Imagination, memory, association of ideas, .... The moral and emotional part of our nature a source of ideas, The idiosyncrasies of mind, . Clas'iflcation of the mental pheno- mena. Memory a property of mind,'a8 dis- tinct from the spontaneous action of mind, from the modifying laws of mind, and from the principles of mind, Memory a property by which the past is recalled, Memory, according to Dr. Brown, In what Dr. Brown's view is defec- tive, • • . . Memory necessary to every dis- crimination of an idea, . .^. This process of memory very rapid, 1 1 1 Memory gives identity to our dif- ferent states of mind, or allows us to recognise their identity, . This law allows us to recognise the sources of pain, and the causes of ilaiiger, and secures the preserva- tion of tho sentient being, . Memory gathers tho larger cxperi- 106 106 106 106 107 108 109 109 111 112 112 viii (ONTENTB. onco neceasiiry for the purposoN of intellectual uxistenue, Proverbs owo their ori/iin to the gfttliored experience which me- mory treasures, The scenes which memory por- trays, Peculiar characteristic of memory, Memory will survive the grave, New law of memory in the future world, The surveys of memory in the fu- ture world Imrt|,'ination blends with the opera- tion of memory, Memory furnishes many of its ma- terials to imagination, Different kinds of memory: the question answered,— whether a great memory and an enlarged or philosophic judgment are com- patible? ..... Memory assisted by attention, and that by the interest taken in any given subject, . VAOK 113 114 114 116 115 116 116 116 119 119 XII. By the phenomenon of memory the consciousness of one moment prolonged into the next, . From this is obtained the feeling of personal identity, . Pei-sonal identity. The precise question, . The identity of the body. The identity of the soul, XIII. Identity as a law of mind, . 122 123 123 123 123 127 130 134 Resemblance an H law of mind, . 135 Classification proceeds upon this law i36 The law of contrast. 139 How far there must be resemblances and contrasts in objects and quali- ties as existing in the universe, 142 The boautiftjl effect of the law of contrast, 144 Analogy, 147 A species of resemblance, . 147 The rationale of this law, . 147 The power of detecting analogies the great scientific, and the great poetic, faculty, .... 149 Difleronco Iwtween scientific and poetic analogies, . . .149 Illustrations derived from analogy, 152 Diflerence between resemblance and analogy, . . . .155 166 166 168 169 172 191 206 The law of proportion, . Considered under its diflbrent as- pects, The principles of the mind, . Causality, Qrneralization, .... Deduction, On the respective natures of induc- tion and deduction, . XV. Ideas obtained, . . 214 Review of the process by which these are obtained, . ,214 Classification of the sciences ac- cording to the fundamental and modified ideas, . . . .218 XVI. Association of ideas, . .219 Dr. Prown's secondary laws of as- sociation, 226 Remarks upon Dr. Urown's sixth se- condary law, that "the iulluence of the primary laws of suggestion is greatly modified by original constitutional differences," . 23(1 XVII. Classifications of the intellectual phenomena considered, . 238 The author's view of mind further explicated, .... 244 Controver.sy as to the nature of '(lefts, 248 CONTiSNTH. IX fAoa XVIII. The ».i!ppo8ed faculties of mini! re- solved into the phenomena of mnsation and intellection as ex- piftined in this work, . , 252 Conception, . Abiitrat^tion, . Judgment, . Ileosoning, . Imagination, MM . 30S . 861 . 266 . 869 . 370 THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE EMOTIONS. The emotional nature geherally con- ^ sidored, 279 The first essential condition of emo- *'"». ••.... 291 Illustrated by thu views of the Quietistr, 293 Cheerfulness, .... 294 How cheerfulness is consistent with the existence of evil, . . 295 Cheerfulness distinguished from B^'ety, , . . ,299 Christian serenity, . . 300 Cheerfulness distinguiahed from its semblances 300 Cheerfulness heightened by kind- liness of nature, . . 306 Opposite emotions to cheerfulness, 310 Melancholy, 3J3 Fretfulness, Moroseness, Peevish- ness 323 ^°y 328 Difference between joy and cheer- fulness 328 The opposite emotion to joy, . 335 How each emotion has its counter- part or opposite, . . . 33g ,^°™^ .338 i he emotions their own end : Final causes connected only with the counterpart emotions, . . 341 The emotions which are excited by events, and those which termin- ate on objects, . Delight, . . . . , Wonder, Surprise and astonishment, . Admiration Wonder and admiration subservi- ent to devotion, . , 379 346 348 357 368 372 Wonder becomes worship when God is its object, . . 394 Veneration, Adoration, . . 334 Pi'rposes bubserved by the different aspects of wonder, . . 384 The emotion of the beautiful and the sublime, .... sgg The emotions which terminate on l^eing, 890 I^"^e,. 391 Love in its modified aspects, . 400 Friendship, 412 Patriotism, 413 The antagonism of the emotions considered, . .414 The .intagonistic eniotiuiis to love, 420 Hatred, 421 Anger, resentment, envy, revenge, indignation, .... 424 Hatred more or less in each of these, 424 These characterized as the malevo- lent affections, .... 423 Indignation and resentment distin- guished 428 Relation of anger to indignation and resentment, . . . 435 Purposes subserved by anger, . 437 Classification of the emotions, . 444 Author's classification more speci- fically stated, .... 448 Sympathy 449 Philanthropy, . . . .451 Sympathy with any emotion of an- other 457 Nice offcct of the reciprocal infiu- encc of the emotions, . ,i,5« b X CONTKNTS. PAOE Our eympatliies with the general omotioiis depend upon constitu- tional differences, . , . 450 Sympathy with the aspects of nar t"re 4(51 Generosity, or kindness, and grati- tude, 4g2 Desire, 4^4 Dr. Reid's enumeration of the de- ^••es, 464 PAGB btewart's enumeration, . 4(54 Dr. Brown's enumeration, . . 404 Desire more properly considered as one of the st_.es of our mental constitution, and any object the object of desire as it yields plea- sure, or confers happiness or S0< ..... 464 Transition from the emotional to the moral part of our nature, •. 407 THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE MORAL NATURE. Peculiarity in the moral nature as distinguished from the phenome- nal—the practical reason as dis- tinguished from the speculative, 473 Facts of the mcral nature ultimate, 479 The proprr .ucstion in regard to the moral nature, or in a theoiy of morals, .... 492 The confusion that has arisen from the commingling of different ques- tions, and treating them as ""e- •• ... 483 Right and wrong, 486 A relation appreciable by reason, 489 Yet no reason can be assigned for rightness or wrongness : the re- lation ultimate, , . . 49Q The perception of the relation ac- companied with an emotion, . 490 ■The relation not only the object of perception by a percipient agent, but of moral approbation by a moral agent, . . . . 49Q The relation intrinsic, eternal, and not created or constituted, . 491 The law founded on this relation, though eternal and immutable in itself, still in a high sense the law of God, ... 493 Reasons for the promulgation of the law as a command, . . 497 The law of right is one, . . 599 The law of riglit as resjiects the Decalogue, . , 593 The law of right in its different applications, .... 594 Kant's view of the law of right or . . , of'^uty 507 Error of Kant, . 599 Distinction drawn by Kant be- tween the moral law as a " law of holiness to the Supreme Being," and a " law of duty to every finite intelligent," . . 512 Incorrect idea in respect to duty as obedience to law the foundation of this distinction, . . .512 Source of Kant's Error, , .514 Moral approbation and disapproba- T,,*'""' • • • . .516 1 he moral faculty, or conscience, . 524 The power of this principle, . . 528 Its influence upon other states, mental and emotional, . . 529 The relation of consci<)nco to the other principles of our nature, and to action, . . . _ 539 The desires as principles of action, 6.32 The relation of emotion to desire, . 533 The emotions divided into primary and secondary, .... 534 The philosophy of this question- "I'le,-. • ... .534 ihc desires secondary to the emo- tions, . KQK T,, ' , 000 I lie general sources of the desires, 536 Fear the nearest luitagonistic state '" ''««'■'•'' 530 (-'ONTENTS. XI Courage ; its aspects, pliysical and moral, .... Hope, a modification of desire, Hope more peculiarly pertains lo a world in which good and evil are mixed, • . . , Dr. Brown's view of desirableness as simply the relation between the object and the desire, . Indirett refutation of tlie selfish system of morals. Unnecessary to dwell upon the par- ticular desires, . Important to notice the aspect the desires now present in connexion with the character they must have exhibited in an unfallen •state, . . ^ The relation of the desires to law, to conscience, and to moral ob'i- gation, The primal state, ... The passions designated noble. Emulation, . . . _ Distinction between the desire of excellence and the desire of su- periority, . . . _ Harmony between strictly ethical views and the view of our nature and of duty, or obligation, pre- sented in Scripture, . Does the love of our neighbour ex- ist in our nature as fallen ? The desire of esteem, wherein jus- tifiable, ... Distifiot from the desire of fame or praise, • . . . Shame a modification of this desire, 558 A sinful motive or state often very near a moral or good one, . . 559 Hence the necessity of watchfiil- ,^ "«^« 559 llie very thoughts and intents of the heart under tlic inspection of conscience, ... 550 The desires thus cognizable by con- science, 5_r,9 This leads to the consideration,— What part the will has in thnss rAGK 536 537 641 542 543 547 547 553 553 553 553 553 554 550 567 558 states or actions with which mo- ral blame is connected. All moral evil deserving of moral blame. Difficulty, in the case of the desires, not whether, when evil, they de- serve moral blame, but where the blame is due, ... Peculiarity in -the case of "man's moral nature, . Federal representation. Inconceivable in the government of God, that where there was no guilt in any sense, any being could be involved in the evil to which guilt attaches, Evil desire guilty. More directly culpable, if entertained or accom- panied by an act of will, . The relation of will to an act to be considered. The nature of the will. The connexion of the will with our active principles, with action, and with the right and wrong of an action, The state of the desires. The desires, considered as regards their objects, or the sources from which they spring, either moral, c-esthetic, or physical— the last including the appetites, . The physical nature not so much the region of emotion as of feel- ing, and that feeling not so much mental as bodily— the desires belonging to the body, therefore, appetites rather than desires, . Bodily desires which are not ap- petites, .... The moral desires, Benevolent and malevolent desires, 575 Virtuous and vicious desires, . 575 The restlietic desires, . . 575 The physical desires, . .577 The relation of the will to nctioni and the question of the freedom of (ho will, r,7Q »i!o relation iH-lweon judgment, PAOI! 559 560 560 560 560 561 561 561 561 564 566 572 573 573 573 MKHIMi XU CONTENTS. PAOB motive, and desire, causal, or that between cause and effect, . . 579 Is it the same relation between these axidi win f , .581 Activity of the will, . . . 552 The phenomenon of the activity of tlie tcill amid motive influence, seen in other departments besides that of tlie will— causal influence and yet independent action, . 588 Relation of the will to morality, . 597 To morality in the emoticus, or internal states, as well as in the mictions 597 PAQI 606 Dr. Chalmers's view on this sub- ject How did the emotions become guilty? Or, the source of evil motive, and an evil will, . . 609 On the origin of evil, . . .610 Different opinions entertained on this subject, . . . .610 The Manichean doctrine, . .611 Evil regarded as a defect, not posi- tive, 612 How far our minds can go in de- termining the origin of evil, . 612 Practical conclusion, . . . 613 INTKODUCTIOE The precise nature and objects of Metaphysical Science have been much misapprehended, and the science itself in conse- quenee has suffered even in the estimation of those whose IZ • '" T '""P''^"* ^ ^''^^'^^'- Metaphysics with some IS another name for whatever is shadowy, inLlpable obscure. It has been thought that nothing satisLtor^ can be determined and no valuable results arrived at. Some have regarded the metaphysics of one-^ge as chiefly useful in cor- TZ r:'^''' '^^'^ °"^^* ^ ^' «t"di«d' -^cording nhii rV .7 "^"^ ^""'^ ^S^'°«* *h« "^i^^^kes that philosophers have fallen into, or that we may be able to refute their errors. With others it is only as an exercise of intellect Tit i:" f^'t''''^^ °*' '"' ^''"^"^«' *'^^* tl^^ ««i«"ce is useful. It IS m this latter view that Lord Jeffrey regards the science as chiefly valuable. He would recommend it for no other purpose, and he sees no other good that can result from It. Carlyle has the following quarrel with all philosophy •_ « r^n""'-." '"Tf'"'' ^"^ ""'''"'''^ ^^ ^ philosophy," says he, ^ 18 an evil Man is sent hither not to question, but to work ' nS . ' ^""^''^ '*^*'' ^" *^°"ght were but the picture and inspiring symbol of action ; philosophy, except as perfect stote" this writer adds, " can it be avoided, can it be dispensed with ? Man stands as in the centre of nlture ; his A ^ , INTBODUCTION. fraction of iime encircled by eternity, his haadbreadth of space encircled by infinitude : how shall he forbear askin- himself- what am I ; and whence ; and whither ? How, too, except' in slight partial hints, in kind asseveiations and assurances, such as a mother quiets her fretful inquisitive child with, shall he get answer to auch inquiries?" Goethe, in .peaking of the work,- Syst^me de la Nature," which he and some friends had read with great disappointment, and whose barren and sceptical speculations he condemns, says, « If, after all, this book did us any mischief, it was this-that we took a hearty dishke to all philosophy, and especially metaphysics, and re- mained m that dislike; while, on the other hand, we threw ourselves into living knowledge, experience, action, and poetiz- ing, with all the more liveliness and passion." All these views proceed upon the mistake that the mind cannot be a proper subject of study; for if it can, we see no harm m studying its laws and phenomena, as well as those of any other subject of investigation. Is mind alone of all sub- jects the only one that will not submit to our investigation or scrutiny, or that will yield no return to our efforts to analyze or comprehend it ? It is obviously taken for granted that mind escapes our observation, or will not submit to our analysis It IS as If It were some impalpable essence that evaporated as soon as we endeavoured to apply to it our chemical tests, or brought to bear upon it our mentel analysis. Has mind no laws by which It IS regulated ? Does it exhibit no settled facts which may be made the subjecic of observation ? Have we no con- sciousness by which the facts of mind may be marked and recordea ? Must error so unavoidably be fallen into in regard to the phenomena of mind, that every successive age must be employed only in correcting the errors of the preceding ? Is mind not a real existence as much as matter ; and are its laws and phenomena not as worthy of being ascertained as those of the external universe ? Must it only be a^ a mental discipline that we should study that internal substance, which, if it is invisible, IS yet the principle by which we think, which indeed truly constitutes ourselves, and which subjects everything INTRODUCTION. Q else to ite observation ? It is the thinking Being to which all thought 18 amenable, to which thought owes its own being or existence. Blast we think about everything but oureelves P .v^e have somewhere seen it said by Carlyle in his own peculiar way-that he would rather think, than think about thinking There is point here, and there is some degree of satire. There was a sardonic smile, no doubt, upon the countenance of the wnter or speaker as he uttered these words. But in all gravitv and seriousness, is it not interesting to think about mind the processes through which it passes, from darkness to day, from Its first dawn of intelligence to its maturest thought and dis- covery ? But there is more than what is merely interesting. The laws of mmd underlie all philosophy, and it is its forma- tive processes that put its laws even upon matter. A few original Ideas are the roots of all science. Whewell shews this and he founds his classification of the sciences .:■ m these few meas It 18 true that the sciences are independent of the kno^edge of th s: but it is important to see the relation thai our Ideas oear to the actual phenomena of the outer world: and he is the most intelligent philosopher who can determine what part mind has, and what part matter, or the phenomenal world, m the obser^^ed laws and processes of nature. Car- yle has regarded metaphysics as a science of doubt rather than a science of positive knowledge; and in one sense it is so. Doubt, not unbelief---ignorance, not scepticism. A science of ttn^ .T°? '! 'por^n^e-might well seem a contradic tion. But the doubt is the doubt forced upon us by the neces-' Bary limitation to our faculties-the ignorance is the ignorZ necessitated by the liuiits set to our knowledge by the CreZ In another state of being these limits ma^ be remov d or greatly extended, and we may penetrate into the eTsence o things, we may discern the nature of Being-BeingTnd not n.erely phenomena may be unfolded: ontology-not mere Sits tToTiT '? r^: ^^^^ '' ^' ^^«'--^' - "t" mits to ou knowledge it is important to ascertain. The universe, it is as important te know, perhaps, as what may be 4 ^ INTRODUCTION. ascertained or known in the character of phenomena. With the latter we may be practical philosophers, and able to adapt phenomena to their uses, and there may be no limit to the successive development of the laws of matter, and to the appli- IS It more important to know these laws and all thei^ possible the'Sr;"; I 'T ''' '-""^^^°^^ "'^'^^ '--^« them, or ledge of hose hmits first took the shape of scepticism- it arose in that phantom form: philosophy was a shadow po'int- deiv^T'"''^'/'''^*^^"^ ^^^ phenomenal: mattei was denied . time and space were annihilated : power was but a sequence; and in Germany, and M^ith many'ven in our own Tnet? *^>V if ;"•*'' '^"^ "'^^'^ P^"-°Ph^' — es itls a negation of all being save perhaps our own being, and that of God. Or If among German philosophers anything redeems allowed to the phenomenal, making it almost as good as the actual, denying at one moment the actual, and r^sto W Tt the nex, under terms which do not assert it^ existence bus^^ ibe nght state of mind, and that for which true philosophv is valuable, is not scepticism as to the Actual but su Pendi inquiry as to what the Actual is-diffidenc and mystery surely the most appropriate states of mind for the creZ e- everywhere in the vestibule of that divine temple wi;^ enshriL^nTe"^ ""'^' ^^^' ^°*^"^^^^-' where'trs I that vP^l i I 'T" ''°'*""''^' '' «"'y ^thdrawn behind th^t veil which envelops all his works. Hence we find Carlyle himself writing :^« Much as we have said and moumed aboul oriSt : T''^'^" of metaphysics, it was not witu some insight into the use which lies in them. Metanhvsical specu ation, if a necessary evil, is the forerunner of mucS out'thn r^*"""""^' "^^^^ burn itself out, and b irn out thereby the impurities that caused it ; then a^ain wiS struggles painfully, m the outer, thin, and barren domain of INTRODUCTION. r the conscious or mechanical, may then withdraw into its inner sanctuaries, its abysses of mystery and miracle, withdmw deeper than ever mto that domain of the unconscious by nature infinite and inexhaustible ; and creatively work th^re " The unconscious here, with Carlyle, as distinguished from what we suppose must be called the conscious, is where the mind is beyond the region of mere questioning o- inquiry and creates works unconsciously, and brings up though' from the de^ of Its own nature. « From that mystic region," says Carlyle " and from that alone, all wondei., all poesies and rel^ons' and social systems have proceeded: the like wonders, and greater and higher, he slumbering there ; and brooded over by the spirit of the waters, will evolve themselves, and rise like exhalations from the deep." Will the mind eve arrive at that aone? ^ 7''''^'*"'°^*^" self-existent and infinite mind a one? Shall we ever cease to inquire into the phenomenal or cease to wouder at the absolute ?* It is metaphysics at all events that carries us to the absolute, and it is uXbtedly a higher position for the mind to occupy than the inves%atL of he phenomenal .imply. Carlyle withdraws his own depre" ciaory estimate; and there could not be a higher praise of metaphysics than what he has accorded to it. if is the 2nd purpose of metaphysics to bring us to the absolute, aS to Tth: s::: ':ti rr '' ^^-«*^^-^« *^e ph^nomenS tor the sake of the absolute, or to determine the phenomenal and see what is beyond, or look into the « abysses of Zterv thatrsTe" -"^'^^^'^ '^'^^ Purposeof mVysiT nl^ that 18 the service which she performs. There is not a mZ important and higher function'of the mind thirt of wo - der, and we never wonder at the phenomenal merely it is what ,s beyond, what is in, the phenomenon-its TtL the • , It IS this that excites our wonder; and whenever we pass * Wo opposo tlie Absolute to the riienomenal, and wc leavo our readers to determine the natiuc of each ■ that they are to be distinguished seems hard- ly to admit of a doubt. " INTHODUCTION. from the phenomenal, or suspend our minds in wonder at the aw present m it, we are in the domain of a higher philosophy than the mechanical or the simply physical. In the region of mystery and wonder we strive to reach the mind of God- we trj to enter into the arcana of his nature-to see his secret counsels, or the very law of his intelligence ; and failing to do this, we adore, we reverenn ., we admire and praise. We stand outside, when we cannot enter the inner shrine. But metaphysics has to do with the phenomenal as well as what 18 beyond it, or in it. It not only leads us to the unknown, to the actual, and suspends our minds in wonder betore it, but it investigates what may be known : it interro- gates mmd as to its phenomena, and takes the information which mind yields to its own inquiries. Mind may be as much tne subject of observation as matter, not the observation of the senses indeed, but of as sure and competent a power, or witness as the senses. There is not a process that goes on in the mind but 18 known to the mind itseh-intimates its existence, or reveals its nature. Its very existence is the mind's intelligence ot It. _ It intimates itself by its own presence. We call this consciousness: the mind is conscious of its own states, or as we may say, self-conscious. Then acre is the power of memory by which a past state may be recalled, and may be present by a kind of second consciousness; or the memory of the state is the exact counterpart of the state itself, and this also is the subject of consciousness, or, again, is the mind's intelligence of It. It 18 said now to be the subject of reflection; or this repeated consciousness continues as long as we please, and we are thus said to reflect upon it. Or reflection is the turning of the thought of the mind upon its own states, whether present or repeated : there is not only the state intimating itself-self- reyealing, if we may so speak— but there is the turning of the mind in upon the state: there is something like a mental observation ; and this may be as sure a source of information as the observation of the senses in regard to external pheno- mena, or the outward world. The mind is self-cognizant. Its own arcana are open to its own inspection. It can minutely INTRODUCTION. m observe its most intimate and secret workings : it can mark and record every thought, or feeling, or observation. It can see the exact state-what it is-what it amounts to. Now is not the ramd as worthy of observation as the external world'? Are not ite phenomena as wonderful, and as legitimately a subject ot speculation or investigation as those of matter ? The differ ence seems to be, that the phenomena of mind being so much a part of ourselves, and so much • ae subject of self-consciousness It IS taken for granted that we know them ah-eady, and know them sufficiently, while we can know nothing of matter unless we investigate it, and matter seems therefore more legitimately the object of our observation, the proper subject of study 1 hen the laws of matter cannot be applied unless we investi- gate them and know them ; but we apply the laws of mind whether we have investigated them or not. They operate spontaneously within in spite of ourselves, and all our know- ledge of them hardly improves their own spontaneous action -But 18 knowledge to be valued by its practical utility ? Is knowledge not valuable on its own account ?-and shall we shut ourselves out from all knowledge unless it can render a practical return, or lead to some practical consequences? Then, indeed, our physical philosophers, our economists, our statesmen our observers of nature, are our only true philoso- phers, and their science alone is valuable. And this is the estimate accordingly which the world is disposed to form Macaulay draws a contrast between the practical philosophy of Bacon and its mighty results, and the philosophy of the specu- lative mmds of Greece, however vast their powers, and sublime and admirable in many respects their speculations. But even tried in this way, surely moral speculation, and disquisitions upon mind, will not yield in importance to that philosophy which promises to reduce matter to the power of man, and make us indeed Lords of creation. What although we were- a though we could wield the thunder as we can direct its electric element-although the sea were as obedient to us as n child-although we could apply every law of nature to our use ?-there is in a single moral though; what is intrinsically & INTKODUCTION. more valuable than all nature together, with all its laws and phenomena ; and the immense physical advantages resulting If nnr ' Tr''^"^ \ ^"'"^^^^^ ''' ^'^'^y^ '^ the seiene! tivaf^^d M " T"^ constitution is negleeted or uncul- tivated Man may be too mechanical: he may pursue his phyrucal objects too exclusively : he may have theV too exclu! Bively before him ; and some attention to the being within him-not withm him, but actually himself-might be of use h.8 nature, and makmghim not the mere man of the world, or of matter, but a epintual being capable of holding converse wi h other spiritual bemgs, and moving through the world not Ilv' r' r ,^ f "^''^ '^ '' ^^^ ^^^'•' but as having a destiny above it, and that will not be limited by its duration. are wLr rf^^ ^ r'"'' '' ^' ^"''^°' ^^^ ^'^ phenomena rZ H ^^ "^T''^ '' ^*"^^^^- ^"^ ^"de^d they are 2 while this may not be very formally the case. We are all more or less observers of the phenomena within us : we all take St tutiZ" ^V •"' V'''^' P^^^^^ '"^ -^ --*'^^ fr-- or eon! studtd L. V Tf'"'' ^'' '^' "^^"•i t^ ^' formally studied in order to our being metaphysicians. We are meta- physicians m spite of ourselves: we are philosophers wither we know It or not. Shall we complete our accomUhme tst with half-formed speculations ? Shall we be superficial in our Knowledge, or shall we inquire deeper ? ShaU we observe mo e c osely our mental phenomena ? Shall we make our own mind he subject of study ? An enlightened curiosity would surely lead us to do so. An enlightened wisdom tells us that " The jyroper study of mankind is man;" and man's epirittial nature m what truly, a» we have said con- 1ft r,f ,^ "'*'" '"'°^''^S0 of this ramiiios'iMf ttrough all other kuowlodge, except such as is strictly physical Were perpetually applying l„, of „„, ^y■,,„^^ J„P J "^'^ nmtetu 7 T'"',""""' '" "■''J'"'» -Jl-stitnsthat nuy he „ut of very suhord, nate moment. Their appliealiou in INTBODUeriON. 9 htorataro « constant and direct. Doca not history draw unon the knowledge of them in its delineations of eh«acto IdT.^ ...tement of the principles of action and modesSlV Bit graphy cannot do without this knowledge T„ .!,„ . -.^ ossential-who would sway the n,il1f oti ^ ^"0^!" counsels, or influence their pe™,sio„s. The "*"•„'„ te statesman, by its view,, must know better the laws that will be sa ntary and expedient, and the motives thatlyt ei pccted to prevail in the government of men. The ZmoZ bno to the vanous characters and capacities under his care Poetry takes n.uch from this science. Many of its finest ^u' aons proceed upon the subtlest perception or analj^s tf tw mental states, and owe all their power over us to thi Critt cam .s the application of the mind's law, to the writin- of anil ^r' "="■ ^''^y °°» !» " ori"-^ "ho canTd an author with appreciation. Do we not refer thi, or tral ofTu/n t™ Tu '^ "^ ""-^P^Jence with this or th t tw constitution ? It m the principles of our nature that we briuB That Shakespeare wa, a metaphysician who can doubt » He 1 -T; • *"' ""^ '"'°'' 'he law, of mind, that he waJ acquainted with the phenomena of our spiritual frameworks obvious fr„„ hi, marvellous production,!^ We know not how much of our ,pmtual being we are acquainted with ti 1 wl Zld thTre'be -'"r """'r " ''"'="'"^^- '^'■' ""at"" would there be m knowing this ? The great bu..bear of Calyle he evU which he deprecates-the clseioiis ta^H, ncident to our imperfect knowledge. With a mnr, .,17 ! know ledge there would be the kno°wlcd J*o:r m ntaT™ to Sluink There is surely no harm in inquiry iteelf and if we cannot arrive „t our knowledge in any otli wly 'in" lirv .3 necessary. But the grand fault ,,.„ bin, thutlqiAy hZ 10 INTRODUCTION. beon too much conjuctod i„e„ mind m a suLject, and not as it » Wy. Our inquirie. have Wen too abstract mM h™ been v,e«d too mueh opart from the being noeseie«! rama resides. The most essential part of our nature i» „n body, united to a material organization. The knowledge of mind IS Imng knowledge. It is the knowledge ofhvW^^^^^ not of an abstraction. It is in the concrete that minTouS r r: lid" 't: " -i ^'.'^r ''''^-^ "^^-^ '^'^^''^^^^ Zli \T\- """"^ ""^''^ "-^""^^'^ "« ^ith the spiritual world, and allies us to spiritual existences of a still hiVher nature than our own. It is true we speak of m'nd fn the abstract, and n studying our own minds we a^ ISy nl mind ,, 1 believe in many of its propertieUa„g'2 mmd, nay the Divine Mind itself. But does that rendfr it the less bang? On the contrary, does it not shew its suner oTstr^'Tor^^ 'r? ^^'^^^^ it the t::!!^^ Z-f^f • . 3 ^^'' '^ ^'''''' ^ ^^^^'•^^ ite phenomena to mark Its intuitions, to follow its processes, and to attend to i^ h^ghe emofonal and momi nature, is surely worthy of anv Knowjeage idle— to repudiate it, or to r ndervalue it as nnt h T\i °T'';''«''-" ^''^ '"" ^^'■•™^» in phi osophizTnZ the highly Ideal and the low sensation«l-a„,«,jrat fault action, or of bang acted upon, instead of viewing it as BeL of a°fl:iH ^** " ■' "«"■'''•' '■''^'' tatlill « Mf W ^' ,' !*™°*' ™*"'=<'' '««' ™ ""'io" within ite If. Were mind viewed in the way we have indi.,t«l Z id eZd'/trr'ft °°^ '^ "*"" '"' ™'"' "■"• --'^-5 Tt o,^„ij iu , , ■'^ t^naracter that it does possess with manv It would then bo the study of the laws of ^iritnal hehu, and that spiritual being in the eireumstances in which the mSd of INTRODUCTION. j t man iH found-linked to a nmterial organization, and oxpatiat- And tl.en tho mental or iutelJectual strictly would not be rnr:::^/TH''^ ^t-^*^^*^ ^^ oumaturiLthei::;!.' and moral They are all parts of the same spiritual subst^tnce How.hould tue knowledge of this not be living knowledge ? The knowledge of external nature, indeed, is more livelyTfor whatever aj. peals to the senses affects us in a more lively man ner than what belongs to n.ind; and in the action 'ofTe there is that without ourselves, which, awakening our interest retems ,t with a vividness which the processes 'of mindrn: not lay claim to. It is a law of our nature, too, that by society we multiply ourselves, or diffuse our beiig; 'we stamp our nature upon others and upon the univei^e; we give ou ourselves; and the knowledge pertaining to exiernal'nlre to experience, and to action, therefore, may be distinguished ^ hvmg knowledge; and experien^. and action may seem pr" ferable to speculation or philosoph v ; but this does not by anv means justify the contrast which Goethe has drawn between philosophy, especially metaphysics, and the living knowledge experience, and action, to which he gave himself iS recoil from' the former. The knowledge of mind a. a concrete, in all ite phenomena or workings, must ever be living knowledge-most properly deserves the name,-while it is tht materialiorThat of which It IS the knowledge is the material-of the very life experience and action which are so preferred. It is the mind's qualities after all that go into the web of life. It is thosTvery paenomeca, the knowledge of which is despised, which make up experience and action. Did we not throw o^r m ndHuI scene be ?-what would experience and action be ? Man was created for action, but knowledge is not opposed have some effect m enabling us to act aright. Reliction is the grand succedaneum here-the siiccedaneiim, now thrthe power of acting rightly has been lost; and doe not Ret o^^ m a pecuhHr way call us to the knowledge of ourselves ?Des 12 INTUODUOTION. it not call us to exercises in which all mir ar^i^Ai i u are involved, and in re^^a to ^Lt^?: I" Sp^^rS th«e phenomena should be known-that we ^^CIX J«em between a merely mental e.erc« and an emolLnS and spmtual or moral, to see where these meet, and X are the,r distmgmslung characlerirtics ? The great subi^ ^f s^es 7.7"""^. 7-*d ""h right i«:;o„ ^'o^' TJT'JJ """t- J"<'8°'™'». the emotions, and the Will And what ,s our higher spiritual being eonccrne<< with b„ the emotrons ? And the mutual aetion^f all the nartof o^ sp.r:tual framework is necessary to be t»ken into CuntT THE PHILOSOPHY OF INTELLECT. I. MiKD and Matter are the two BuistanceB about which all phitaophy ,s ooaver™t. These two substance, may be ,^d to dmde the un.verse. But what do we mean by a ™fe w It m a very la,ge assertion, that these two substances div de the unrnrse. What is meant by a substance? A suhstlnce as the notion js suggested to us, according to a process which 41^ n wh,ch qual,to8 mhere, or which exhibits those phenomena and laws wh.ch it is the business of philosophy I Z7kZ s that wh,eh «,te* under certain gmlities, t?Je «mlme^ bemg the only proper object of observation. But it islmZ «ble to make the term more intelligible than it is to evZ m.nd ; and we can, with all safety, even .t this stage, supZ m,ul are the two substances which divide the universe All hat exists, all that we observe, is either matter or Jnd b longs « a quality to the one or the other. But whTt h' tt d^ mcfon, again, between these two substances ? wt et statutes or marks the boundary betwixt them? But it i „„ no™ -rts Vh ""'TZ "■"• ^""^^ l'"™ - — - knowS' i^^^,""^ W»")"lM-ct in kind. How do we Know this ? How do we anive at this distinction ? a dwL't " T^**' importance just to mark that there is such 8 distraction. In „,„ philosophical inquiries we set out wft m 14 INTELLECT, mmmm thYdeaWio philo»phor account Lt^^r .r^^T^lt ence of matter altogether anrl lini,i fU + -i. • "'^ real ty „r at least, that all we can know assuredly to S h r:r^x^irtT:::Lr.=H:f£^^ assigned to matter or mind tha ,.r«] • • ^ ^^' ® ^rv..-; -11 1 , *"® predominance in their Rvs^pm which we ascribp f a «,; a • • ^^ *"® phenomena tains to It, and to mmd all that appertains to it ^^ it cannot be denied that consciousness, or the subieof nfn I know that anything else exists fl,of fi '^. '*™' -"^^ do mvRPlf ? T I. ^ . ' *"^* *"®''^ ^s anyth ng without my elf ? I have sensations, impressions, ideas : how doTknol thattheseareanythingmorethansensati;ns,impre:sTon;id^^^^ INTELLECT. 15 How do I know that the world which I call external is really external, and is not a mere idea, or a bundle of impressions or ideas ? The first state of that existence which I call myself is one of simple consciousness. May not every other state as well be referable to consciousness only, and intimate no exist- ence beyond itself? It will be apparent, therefore, that consciousness must be the starting-point of philosophy: we must go up to it as the head and source of all our know- ledge; for even those principles which are perceived by pure reason, and are first truths of the mind, are known only as they are the subjects of consciousness. Now, what is consciousness? What is that first or earliest source of our knowledge ? It is so simple, perhaps, as to be incapable of definition. It is the mind sensible of its own acts or states, or states which we ascribe to a subject, mmA— mental states, self-cognizant, miimating their own existence. If we mistake "not, this is Dr. Brown's view of consciousness. « Sensation," he says IS not the object of consciousness different from itself, but a particular sensation is the consciousness of the moment • as a particular hope, or fear, or grief, or resentment, or simple remembrance, may be the actual consciousness of the next moment. In short," says Dr. Brown, «if the mind of man and all the changes which take place in it from the first feel- mg with which life commenced, to the last with which it closes could be made visible to any other thinking being, a certain series of feelmgs alone, that is, a certain number of successive states of the mmd, would be distinguishable in it, forming in- deed, a variety of sensations, and thoughts, and passions as momentary states of the mind, but all of them existing indivi- dually and successively to each other." In the passage from which our quotation is taken, Dr. Brown is exposing the error . I' 1 , "' ^^^^r\g consciousness a separate faculty of the mind, although even Dr. Reid says of it, « It is an operation ot the understanding of its own kind, and cannot be logically defined. Dr. Reid means, it is so simple that it cannot be analyzed ; for a logical definition consists in giving all the parts of a whole into which that whole may oe analyzed or divided 16 INTELLECT, But why Is consciousness so simole Imf i state of the mind itself at fJT ' ' ''^"'' '*^«J"«t th« feeling or thought beT g 1 entTTf ^' ^"^ ««'^«^^*'- «^- be thus the prim% soulTaTl kl /^ ^"* ^^«-"-ess which that vvhich we cal mnJ ^'^"^^^^S^-^he first state in be this simple state of th nL ^r a'"'^' '"' '' conscio..ness or, feeling itself present to the' mLTT "T *"" " ^'^^^^^'^ existence, how do we come to pass ^ ^^^°*'^^«°g its own ness to anything withou^u seTes na^ to' ^^ate of conscious- of which consciousness is a stte ? K Tf ^'^'^^ ^« *^^* exist ? or how do I know th.ff "" ^' ^ ^°°^ '^at I sciousness is my first stal how dV^^ ft' '^^^ ^'°"- personal existence ? It is obvil= / ,*° '^^^^^ *^^ ^^^^ of awakening, or being lessa, ^ """''-^l ^^ consciousness personal existence PerhanTn J "''°"^P^^'«^ ^y, the idea of sciousness than the idea of n '''"^ '"^ ^ ^^ ^ ^*^*« ^^^ eon- I^et it be remarked it not T'f T^*'"^^ ^' ^-^^^^ned. awakened, but the idel of existencf S/' ""' ^^ ^'^* ^^^^ ^ my existence as a person That r '"^.'''^ ''^^*^"^^' ^"^ be, enters the soul a SIup!. ""' ^^"*'''^^ *^^* ^ ^ay from, or is immedi^tdy ctn ea ^n^'^'T *° '^ ^"^^P^^^^' consciousness. This if f h? ^ . T""' ^^'^ ^''^ Pawning of which is yet to b! id ti h Sh t 'fl ''' ^"*° '''' ^'^^^'^^ and all intelli-rence tC i^ ^ V "'^ ^' *^ ^^^^'^^ •'^» %ht ingly, is the fir^ ttruthlL f' f ^'T' ^ ^"'«*^"««> accofd- which he lays down itl tl f f "° ^''^' '''' «-* *™th mind itself,' C^,,,?,; ^J^ ^^^T^^ ^ '--ement of the famous enthymeme his bZ .1 !' ''"^"^^'' *'^^* ^^er this assault, as iavolvfug "w n.;'^"^ ^' ^^'^^^^ ^-ersal i"g what is styled in LoSe!;^-"''^'""^'^^ the very position to whiSil I \^-''" ^""''P"'" ^* ^« ^et «tarting.point in her most ^Ts^^eZ T""^" " ''' '''^' ;f the «e^o" or the "me" !f tfe P? '^'"'■^- ^^^ ^^^^ "eogito, ergo sum" of ZesoaLf ThTr '"'•'""' ''^^ ^^^ says, « the me asserts itself "TJ • . ^f™^" philosopher --tence." It is, in otW Ldf " ./;: '^ " I am conscious of ou^-declares iteelf " It fXt /'.^''''J^^ existence speaks " '« .)"st the Idea of personal existence INTELLECT. 17 in the innermost recesses of the soul, and ut its earliest dawn of consciousness. The idea of existence, of course, is a simpler idea than that oi personal existence, but we do not seem to obtain the one without the other. The idea of existence comes with that of personal existence. Wt say that this latter idea necessarily accompanies .he first act of consciousness, or at least a very early stage of consciousness. It is that with which I>escartes set out in his philosophy, and he traces it to the very source from which, in these remarks, we have obtained It. For his cogito," I think, is just a state of consciousness and went for nothing more with Descartes himself This great philosopher has been charged, as we have already hinted with a logical fallacy in his famous argument, with assuming the very existence which is proved. "I think, therefore I am-" -the / 18 already supposed in the "I think:" in other words, the yam;' or existence, is already supposed; and there IS no need for proving it; or a conclusion to prove it is not only superfluous, but is in truth no conclusion at all Des- cartes, however, obviously meant no more than that conscious- ness infers existence. I know I exist because I am conscious. Although he has put the matter in a logical form he did not mean a logical argument, and he asserts this in reply to the objoctions taken to his so-called enthymeme. Cousin has shewn triumphantly that he did not mean an argument at all and that he was sensible that the truth « I exist," was one mdependent of all argument. « Je peuse, done j'existe," are his own words, as given by Cousin, « est en vdrite particuliere qm sintroduit dans I'esprit sans le secours d'une autre plus generale, et indepen' ' """"""' "■'"''' '"^''"^ .no. gone... .J^X'Z^l:^ Si^l^""''^^^'"""'"^ "* "^ "-'^ 18 INTELLECT. I subtlest of German luinds, constructs his whole system of philosophy. His formula is nothing more or less than " I am conscioua of existence," or, " I am conscious;" and the idea of existence necessarily accompanies this state of simple conscious- ness. The " me," in thn peculiar phraseology of Germany, begins to feel itself, to awaken into a state of personal con- sciousness. There is something interesting, it must be con- fessed, in the way in which the Germans put the subject, and they have undoubtedly the merit of making a more rigid demand for consciousness as the grand stand-point, as they call it, or starting-point of all metaphysical inquiry. " The me" is just a more rigid way of denoting personality ; and " the, me asserts itself," is certainly a novel, and therefore striking, way of expressing the first dawning of personal consciousness. In whatever way the truth is announced, it is interesting to contemplate this earliest stage of the mind's operations— the first glimmer of light, so to speak, in the caverns of an im- mortal spirit's being and dateless existence— the feeblest twinkle of that ray that shoots across the soul's awakening, or yet imawakened powers. We cannot trace historically the })rogress or development of ideas— we can but infer from the nature of mind itself, or the knowledge that we now have of its laws and operations, what must have been that development, that pro- gress. Self-consciousness, or the idea of personal -existence, must have been the very earliest stage of development, the first idea, probably, that pierced the intellectual night, or awoke the intellectual morning. II. The mind thus awakened, the idea of its own personality, or of personal existence, once obtained, the mind would probably ^or a time be occupied with this idea :— it would not bo imme- diately let go, and every subsecjuent feeling or impression would be referred to this persoJialifi/— this personal self. It would now be the centre of reference— whether in the case of external or internal impressions— impressions from without, or INTELLECT. 19 impressions from within. All would be judged of from this point of reference— this stand-point of the German philosophy. Every feeling of internal consciousness would be referred to self, as belonging to self, to the « me." By and by, however, feelmgs of a peculiar kind would be experienced. The senses would not only convey sensations to this internal Being— but sensations so modified as at last to awaken the idea of sowe- thing distinct from self, something that was not seZ/- and hence the idea of externality. The «nternal feelings were now such that the idea of something external is awakened. The mind receives the idea or impression of externality. It is im- possible, perhaps, to trace minutely how this idea is awakened ; but that it is awakened at a veiy early stage of Being is un- doubted. At least, of the idea of an external world, not all the eflForts of philosophers could deprive us; although they might endeavour to rob us of an external world itself, and have accordingly attempted to reason us into the persuasion that there is no such thing. This was the gigantic, we should rather say Quixotic, effort of Berkeley and Hume ; and it is what most of the German philosophers of the present, and recent, times, althongli by a diflFerent process, not only essay, but, as it seems to themselves, triumphantly accomplish. They arrive at the conclusion, they think, by the most absolute demonstration. So did Berkeley, so did Hume, granting them their premises. But with so much of truth in their reasoning— starting with a right principle, they erred in not admitting what was equally a principle, and should have been recognised,— viz., that autho- rity is due to all the depositions of consciousness ; and that thoug^x consciousness is strictly the court of appeal in all our questions, and mind is therefore ultimate in the judgment, or in the question, we are not warranted to reject any plain inti- mation of consciousness ; while mind may undoubtedly testify of wliat is diverse from itself, as well as of what is itself, or of Its own nature, if God has so connected the two as to act and react upon each other. Consciousness is a simple feeUng and Its testimony to self, or to a being in which that consciou'sness resides, is no more direct than its testimony to what is not "— <*tw«i«ff«r»b«, 20 INTKLLECT. self: the feehng in eithe:- case ia but a feeling, and the ground of a conviction. The question as to the existence of an exter- nal world depends altogether upon the constitution of that miPd which, as being ultimate in the question, is thought to deny the existence of an external world, or at least to render it impossible that we can ever attain to the knowledge of its existence. The full discussion of this point, however, does not belong to this ptage of our inquiry. The idea of something external to self, then, has been awakened. The exact process of this we have not stated. Ihat this idea should arise, however, very soon after the idea of self, it is natural to suppose. The very consciousness that would awaken the one idea, would negatively testify of the other. The feeling of .e^/ would testify of what was not self. IhQ positive supposes the negative. If there v.ere feelin-s or impressions which awakened the idea of self, every other would ot course be referred to something else, and hence something external It must have been by the simplest process possible that the idea of something different from self, something not selt, something external, arose. Extemaliiy was next in order, or process of time, to personality. They were co-rela- tives-that IS, if there was anything distinct from, and exter- nal to self. And the idea of an external xoorld being one of our Ideas or impressions, as much as that of self, or of our per- sonal existence, it must have been something distinct from and external to self, that awakened it. Everything pertaining to self would, by an unerring consciousness, be referred to it • and whatever did not pertain to it would be excluded, or would by an unerring alchemy be rejected, and consequently referred to something else. Self being the centre of reference, everythino- that did not crystallize with it, or belong to it, would fall off We do not, of course, maintain that the infant mind would ake notice of all this-would mark the process going on within It. Wo; but the mind acquires its ideas although the process IS not marked by which they are attained. The infant does not need to be a philosopher, or a metaphysician. But it goes through processes which even the profoundest metaphysinian i INTELLECT. 21 and wisest philosopher may attend to with interest. The little prattler, not yet out of its mother's arms, which has not yet even learned to prattle, is going through those processes which It IS the most difficult part of the metaphysician's work to ascertam or learn. The most difficult question in philosophy— that very one with which we are engaged-depends upon operations almost too early to trace. We would question the infant itself in vain. We would ask in vain how it has already marked a world external to itself-how it already sees that world, and knows it, if not in the fond mother whose existence 18 as yet almost one with its own-yet in the thousand objects \/hich solicit Its notice, and perhaps call forth its infant pas- sions. So early is the idea of an external world-^Aa^ idea disputed hy phUosophers-aihxmQd. There is a time when the infant seems to lie passive, taking in its lessons, receiving perhaps those very ideas which we do our utmost to trace • but soon the notion of an external world seems to be gained' the little philosopher has first been strengthened in the idea of Its own existence: it has come to bo a believer in its own existence, for it has felt its own wants ; it is not long till an external world, too, dawns upon it, and now it can look with understanding when before it only looked with mystery and Its gaze is not only with a half intelligent smile, but 'with mtelligence beaming from every feature, expressive of anger or joy, gratification or disappointment, aversion or love It is now a denizen of this world, for it has recognised it I it has been made free of it: it is now one of ourselves, and it is left to learn Its other lessons as it best may, having learned this much, that there is a world upon which it has been ushered, and whose fights and conflicts it must, in common with its elder fellow-combatants, sustain. Dr Brown supposes the following to be the process by which the idea of an external world is arrived at :— " The infant stretches out his arm for the first time, by that volition, without H known object, which is either a mere ins met, or very near akin to one : This motion is accompanied witii a certain feeling,-ho repeats the volition which moves 22 INTKLLE(JT. his arm fifty or one thousand times, and the same progress of feehng takes place during the muscular action. In this ~. peated progro^ he feels the truth of that intuitive proposition which, m the whole course of the life that awaits him, is to bo the source of all his expectations, and the guide of all his actions -the simple proposition, that what has been as an antecedent will be followed by what has been as a consequent. At length he stretches out his arm again, and, instead of the accustomed progression, there arises, in the resistance of some object opposed to him, a feeling of a very different kind, which It he persevere in his voluntary effort, increases gradually to severe pam, before he has half completed the usual progress. There IS a difference, therefore, which we may, without any absurdity, suppose to astonish the little reasoner • for the ex l)ectation of similar consequents, from similar antecedents is observable even in his earliest actions, and is probably the result of an original law of mind, as universal as that which renders certain sensations of sight and sound the immediate resuxt of certain affections of our eye or ear. To any being who IS thus impressed with belief of similarities of sequence a different consequent necessarily implies a difference of the antecedent. In the case at present supposed, however the infant, who as yet knows nothing but himself, is conscious of no previous difference; and the feeling of resistance seems to him, herefore, something unknown, which has its cause in something that is not hi.-nself. " I am aware that the application, to an inflmt, of a process reasomng expressed in terms of such grave and formal 1 lulosophic nomenclature, has some chance of appearing ridi- ^ilous. But the reasoning itself is very different from the terms employed to express it, and is truly as simple and natural as the terms, which our language obliges us to employ 1.J expressing it, are abstract and artificial. The infant how- ever, in his belief of similarity of antecedents and consequents and of the necessity, therefore, of a new antecedent, where the consequent IS different, has the reasoning but not the terms. He doc5 not form the proposition as universal and applicable INTELLECT. 23 to cases that have not yet existed; but he feels it iu every particular case as it occuiu That he does tru?y reason, with at least as much subtlety as is involved in the process now sup- posed, cannot be doubted by those who attend to the manifest results of his little inductions, in those acquisitions of know- ledge which show themselves in the actions, and, I may say, almost in the very looks of the little reasoner,— at a period long before that to which his own remembrance is afterwards to extend, when, in the maturer progress of his intellectual powers, the darkness of eternity will meet his eye alike, whether he attempt to gaze on the past or on the future ; and the wish to know the events with which he is afterwards to be occupied and interested, will not be more unavailing than the wish to retrace events that were the occupation and interest of the most important years of his existence." " I have already explained," Dr. Brown continues, " the manner in which I suppose the infant to obtain the notion of something external and separate from himself, by the interrup- tion of the usual train of antecedents and consequents, when the painful feeling of resistance has arisen, without any change of circumstances of which the mind is conscious in itself ; and the process by which he acquires this notion is only another form of the very process which, during the whole course of his life, is involved in all his reasonings, and regulates, therefore, all his conclusions with respect to every physical truth. In the' view which I take of the subject, accordingly, I do not conceive that it is by any peculiar intuition we are led to believe in the existence of things without. I consider this belief as the effect of that more general intuition by which we consider a new consequent, in any series of accustomed events, as the sign of a now antecedent, and of that equally general principle of asso- ciation, by which feelings that have frequently co-existed, flow together, and constitute afterwards one complex whole. Tiiere is something which is not ourself, something whidi is repre- sentative of length-something which excites the feeling of resistance to our effort; and these elements combined are matter. But whether the notion arise in the manner I have 24 INTELLECT. supposed, or (hfferenlly, there can be no doubt that it has ansen long before the period to whieh our memory rea hes and the belief of an external world, therefore, whethTr fmii directly on an intuitive principle of belief, or/as I rather 1 nk on associations as powerful as intuition in the period w i h alone we know, may be said to be an essential part of our mental constitulion at least as far back as that constitution cnn be raade the subject of philosophic inquiry. Whatever it raa> have been originally, it is nov.- as impossible for us to dis- be .eve the reality of some external cause'of our seltion; a^ IS impossible for us to disbelieve the existence of the sensa- K)ns_themse ves. On this subject scepticism may be ingen ous nflt'io':! of ''""f- ""' '-'""^ ^"^' '-'''' '^ '^'^ ««- te" internal belief of the sceptic, which is the same before as after rather as I have before remarked, tacitly assumed and affiled m tha very combat of argument which professes to deny T" the tdet'T'T ^"? ^'- ^"""'^ ^*-"*"^«'^' he accounts for the Idea of an external world by, or traces it to, the feeling of resistence which the child experiences in stre'tch L o it'i « ~t ""'^^^^ T^ ^'^"^ ^''''' ^^^ -* hithe^o int^ ! uipted the accustomed series of feelings accompanying such an act. The muscular feelmg of resistance, then, i the precise occasion of the idea we are now speaking of, a cording 'toD Brown. And it will be observed he ascribes it to no fntuitivo f ehng, but JUS to the interruption of an accustomed trat of nWmi T "7 °''"""^^' '''''''' '"*^-^P*-" arresting the a ^he cause' "d "'f "^ '' '' ""^*'^^'^^ ''''' '^ -^ ^-'-If as the cause. Dr. Brown's explanation of the process_of the exact occasion of the idea-may be the true one ; bt when he says here is no Mtion here-that it is not b^ any p culia 2"^... that we believe in m sometJun, .mIuX^^X nil to have passed through the process as traced by br Brown - .-ould ^k how could the belief be arrived at, Jep A, X ilow could the mmd pass from the one state to the other ^o^th V INTELLECT. 25 such ccriainfy-mth a confidence that not all the arguments of philosophy, or rather of i)hilo8ophic scepticism, such as that of Berkeley and Hume, are able for an instant to shake ? There is more surely here than an ordinary process of mind, by which one idea may suggest another, or may be the occasion of another. Although the feeling of resistance is an interruption to a wonted train of feelings, or the new feeling is different from any that had hitherto been referable to self, and suggests something that is not self, still it is a feeling of self, or of our- selves : it is the self-conscious Being just existing in a new stale of conscicsness ; and the question arises, how is this new state re/eired to somdMmj without as its cause? When we have spoken of this new state as not referable to self, we meant in ttsonytn, or cause~\\ is still a state of the one seh^conscious Being: hoto does the self-conscious Being ref^r that state, no longer to any internal, hut to an external source? What allows of the transition from self to what is not self? It is a feeling of a peculiar kind, certainly, which now awakens the Idea of an external world; but is not much of that peculiarity It not all of It, owing to an intuitive law of the mind by which we come to pass from a mere sensation, or state of conscious- ness, a sensation discriminated indeed, a state of consciousness altogether different from any other previous state, but still but a sensation or state of the self-conscious Being-to pass from that sensation or state to something external ? If there was not some intuitive process, some law of the mind immediate and irresistible, we do not see how the idea of externality could ever be obtained. The new feeling might puzzle the infant reasoner, or it might be set down just as a new feeling different from any that had hitherto been experienced, but it would never lead to sornething without or external. It is enough to say that the mind ,s so constituted as to pass from the one to the other; but what is this bat admitting an intuitive law? I'^rr T "^""^ P^''°"^^ existence, it is a truth which trikes the „und at once and irresistibly : so it may be said of tntv d'V" '^'^rV''^^^ '' ^"^^^y the idea of exter- nahty. Dr. Brown, therefore, seems to us, in his love of sim- 26 INTELLECT. phcity, or desire to introduce no separate or independent law of the mmd, and to account for its processes by a few simple laws to have gone too far in rejecting all intuition in this process,' and ascribing all to the mind tahing notice of the inte^uption oj om of tts accustomed sequences. Even when this way of explaining the process is allowed, as furnishing the occasion on which the belief of an external v orld, or the idea of exter- nahty, arises, there still remains the most important part of the process to be accounted for, viz, that hy xohich we pass from an internal feeling to an external object as its came Ihi . must ever remain unaccountable, but on the ground of an original and intuitive law of the mind. We believe in our own consciousness, as intimating a personal existence, accord- ing to the same kind of law. We might have had that con- sciousness for ever, and never passed to tlie idea of personal existence without such a law or tendency of the mind~a tendency like all its original tendencies-wisely stamped upon It by the Creator. The will of God, and the constitution which God has stamped upon mind, and that in its relations to an external world, is the only way of accounting for the idea or behef in question. It is marvellous that this is not regarded as satisfectory m all such nice questions, wheie the difficulty of solution is felt and acknowledged, and that philosophers must go farther, and trace the very laio U If in its very worUnq ihe most umnstructed peasant," says Dr. Reid, "has as dis- tinct a conception, and as firm a belief, of tlie immediate object of his senses, as the greatest philosopher; and with that belief he rests satisfied, giving himeelf no concern how he came by this conception and belief. But the philosopher is impatient to know how his conception of external ol-jects, and his belief of their existence, is prod.iced. This I am afraid," continues f>r. Keid, is hid in impenetrable darkness. But where there IS no knowledge there is the more room for conjecture, and of this philosophers have always been very liberal." The mode in which the mind communicates with the external world, or the external world becomes the object of perception r ident law of simple laws, his process, nterruption this way of occasion on &• of exter- ant part of 3/i we pass > its cause. ound of an eve in our ce, accord- 1 that con- •f personal I mind — a iiped upon )H8titution elations to r the idea t regarded ifficulty of hers must toovMng. iis as dis- ate object hat belief came by inpatient his belief continues ere there 3, and of external rccption INTELLECT. 27 to the mind, has been the subject of various theories from the time of Plato downwards. A very minute account of these theories will be found in Dr. Eeid's writings, and it would be supei-flnous to repeat them here. More or less respecting them, whetlier in the way of explanation or criticism, will be found also in Dugald Stewart's writings, especially his " Preliminary Dissertation." It is sufficient to say here, that all proceed n{)on the necessity of accormting for what should have been left unaccounted for from the beginning, viz., the mode in which the mind communicates with the external world, can have any conference, so to speak, with what is external. The difficulty was not so much how matter could act upon mind a difficulty, too, and which was endeavoured to be got over by refini.ig sensations into sensible species, which became the objects of perception, and these into phantasms, which were thought to be the objects of imagination and memory— and phantasms into intelligible species — the objects it was thought of science and reasoning : it was through such a process that matter was admitted into the valhalla of the mind : it must lose all its grossness before it could pass into the presence of Spirit : but this was not the chief difficulty. The chief diffi- culty lay in explaining how what was without could communi- cate with what was within — what was removed from the mind could communicate witli the mind as if it was present. The mind sees, feels, hears objects, all at a distance, and knows them to be distant: how could this be? nay, the nearest object of sense is still removed from the mind, which is a spiritual Being, and r^riides, it is supposed, in the sensorium or brain. The question was, how could the mind perceive objects thus removed at a greater or less dist/iuce ? On the principle that nothing can act where it is not present—" sentirc nihil queat mens, nisi id agat, et adsit"— how was the communication be- tween the outward and inner worlds to be explained ? Now this was obviously attempting an explanation of what was in- oxi)licable, except by admitting the will of the Creator as a sufficient explanation. God has so willed it, and we can and need go no farther. Matter communicates with mind, and 28 INTELLECT. mmd with matter by a law, or after a mode, of which we can give no account There is no need to suppose sensible spec es as refined sensations, capable, while sensations themselves are not, of passmg to the mind through the nerves-an ingenious euough theory but wholly conjectural-nay, accounting '0^0! tbmg; for if the sensations were so refined, if the mere species or representations of sensations were such that they could be present to the mind, it still remains to be accounted for how matter communicates with mind, while the passage up the nerves to the brain and thence to the mind, has nothing in physiology to support it, but is purely conjectural. The nerves are indeed the medium of sensation, by which the senses operate upon the mmd; but that is by a manner wholly inexplicabe Ihe nund communicates in a way wholly unknown to us with the external world. So it is, and that is all that can be said The vanity of attempting to strike through the boundaries placed to our knowledge was never more signally illustrated than in the theones that have been entertained on this very subject-, ban in the attempt to explain the mode of connexion between mind and matter-the theories of perception. Had the fact of that connexion, or communication, been admitted without attemptmg to explain it^had the idea of externality and the belief of an external world been rested in, and had the attempt to account for them gone no farther than to trace as tar as could be dc.ne, the occasion of the idea and belief' or crcumstances in which they arose, we wotdd have had a wiser and be ter philosophy much earlier, and many difficult theories would have been spared both the pains f the inventor, and the labour of those who were called to unravel them, while the absmd attempt of the highest, intellects to accomplish not only what w^is beyond their faculties, but what their facdties had no call to accomplish, where they were expen.ling their powers most futilely and in vain-powers, too, that have been in the very van of intellect -such a spectacle would not have been exhibited bringing almost discredit upon philosophy itself through the very names which adorn it. Plato, and Aristotle and Desciirtes, and Locke, and Hartley, and the French Ar- INTELLECT. 29 nauld, and even the greatest oi inductive philosophers, Newton would not have heen found among those theorists, whose theories or conjectures have been dissipated by a little common sense, or by the admission of that principle into philosophy, to which even philosophy must pay deference, that the ultimate laws or intuitive convictions of the mind must be regarded as ultimate and the mind can inquire no farther. Strange that this prin- ciple was not admitted sooner— that the original" or intuitive laws or operations of the mind were not sooner recognised, and that it was reserved for a philosopher of the eighteenth century —Dr. Reid, with his coadjutors Oswald and Beattie— and in France, contemi.oraneously, but without, apparently, any con- cert, Father Buffier— to set the question on its proper founda- tion. " The comcidence between his train of thinking (the French philosopher'^) and that into which our Scottish^meta- physicians soon after fell," says Dugald Stewart, « is so very remarkable, that it has been considered by many as amounting to a proof that tlie plan of their works was in some measure suggested by Ms; but it is infinitely more probable, that the argument which nms in common through the speculations of all of them, was the natural result of the state of metaphysical science when they engaged in their philosophical inquiries." III. The idea of externality is not yet that of an external world. There is much that goes to make up the latter idea that is not in the former. We derive the former from an interruption to a wonted series of feelings which are referable to self, or to a state smiply of self-consciousness— the new feeling being some- thmg altogether different from any which had either hitherto been referred to self, or could be referred to self as its ori-in • It IS therefore attributed to something else. Whether it" be according to Dr. Brown, a feeling of resistance to muscular acfton-or it bo some feeling among the many which the 30 INTELLECT. external world may awaken in the inner self-conscious Being, it at once leads the mind to an external object as its cause,— and this by an original law of the mind, which is infallible. We have already seen that if there was not such a law, the new feeling, however peculiar, would still be but a feeling of the mind itself, and would never lead to anything without as its cause. It must be by an intuitive i)rocess that the mind pabses from a state of consciousness to the certain conviction of an external world— or just from an inner consciousness to an external cause. No mere difference of feeling would awaken or justify such a reference. It is by an intuitive law of the mind that that reference is made, as much as when we conclude that an effect must have a cause, or when we refer an object possessing certain properties, or exhibiting certain charac- teristics, to a class to whicli it belongs. The law or consti- tution of our minds leads to the reference or conolut-ion in both cases. Externality, however, as wc have said, is not an external world. The idea of externality, however, having been obtained, other ideas follow, which, combining with that of externality,' make up the idea of an external world. All the senses of the child are open to impressions from without. The eye tjikes in the colours of the landscape— the ear the sounds which salute it— the smell the fragrance of the fields— the touch the texture, the hardness or softness, of bodies, while the taste is regaled by the sweets whicli are offered to its pnlate, or offended by the nauseous potion which affection administers for its benefit. He -3 are plenty of intimations, impressions, or sensations, all coming from an external world. But the child is philosophic in its procedure, or rather the mind does not operate but according to its own laws. Colours, sounds, taste, smell, might all affect the several senses, and not one idea, or the faintest intimation of ma^^er would be created, or conveyed to the inner thinking being. It is perhaps impossible to determine whether the idea of externality might not be excited. According to Dr. Brown, it is resistance to muscular action which excites this idea— first awakens it: but this it may be impossible jlous Being, its cause, — s infallible, aw, the new eling of the thout as its Tiind pabses ction of an ness to an lid awaken law of the ve conclude ' an object .in charac- ' or consti- icluv^ion in m external n obtained, externality, nses of the ^Q tjikes in liich salute he texture, regaled by led by the ts benefit, lations, all philosophic )erate but lell, might le faintest ' the inner e whether 3ordit)g to 3h excites impossible INTELLECT, 31 positively to determine. There is certainly a greater arrest given to the mind by a feeling of resistance to muscular action or by the interruption of a series of muscular feelings, than can be conceived m any other way ; but still it is no more than an interruption of a series of feelings— it is no more than a feel- ing of resistance,-as a feeUng of colour is one of colour or sound is one of sound. There can be no doubt, however, that we owe the first idea of 7natter to the sense of touch, and that none of the other senses could ever have awakened it. With the sense of taste the sense of touch is combined, so that we must separate what is peculiar to the one from what is peculiar to the other. With the sense of sight, however, with that of smell, with tliat of hearing, we can have no difficulty : it is obvious that from none of these— nor from all of them cora- bmed-coiild we obtain the idea of matter. With respect to the sense of seeing, for example, it can be demonstrated, a.id has been demonstrated, by writers upon this subject, that light or colour is the only proper object of that sense. The eye is really affected by nothing but, light or colour. This is at first very startling, and can hardly be believed-in opposition to all the varied solicitations that now affect, or seem to aflfcct, the eye from witliout, the varied quarties or objects of which it seems now to be the organ of peicei.tion. Yet startling as this may be at first, it has been demonstrably proved by Bishop Berkeley in his Theory of Vision, and has been a settled point in philosophy ever since. Magnitude, figure, distance~y'«-> I 42 INTELLKCT. every extended surface will present greater or less irregularity in its resistance to the tactual feeling. The regularity or irre- gularity will be the degree of roughness or smoothness of the extended surface. Contemporaneous with these acquired im- pressions or ideas will be those sensations of the organ of vision with which they are ever after to be connected, and so con- nected that some at least of the former will seem to be the informations of the sense to which the latter belong. Magni- tude and figure, although acquired in the manner described, appear to be the informations of the eye, of sight. It is a pro- cess of association, however, in every instance in which the eye seems to inform us either of the magnitude or figure of bodies. This is no doubt wonderful, and almost at first incredible, but it is already a philosophic truth. The sensations of the visual organ go so simultaneously with those of the tactual, and, by a subtle process of the mind, to which there is no example in after years, the two classes of sensations are so associated, that it is enough for the one class to exist, to recall the other,' or to give us the other. But why, then, it may be asked, do not the sensations of touch recall those of sight ? Perhaps tliey would were the circumstances of the two senses reversed, or by havino- been deprived of the sense of sight we had become suddenly dependent upon that of touch. Had Milton not in his blind- ness all the colours as well as forms of Paradise in his eye as it were— at least in his mind, when he wrote his description of the primeval garden ? Were we to depend upon touch as wc depend upon vision— were it to be the guide of our every move- ment as sight is, then every associated impression, no doubt, would be easily recalled. But wo are to depend upon sight' and it is sight that treasures the impressions, or the mind in connexion with sight. Sight is always active— touch is often in abeyance ; the sensations of the former, therefore, will be ever recalling those of the latter—the sensations of the latter seldom those of the former. It must be obvious that solidity and fluidity must be inferences of the mind, and not direct objects of vision ; and yet, do we not appear to see an object as f^ohd, and another as fluid ? In like manner with liardncss I irregularity arity or irre- hness of the icquired im- fan of vision and so con- n to be the ig. Magni- T described, It is a pro- lich the eye re of bodies, redible, but f tlie visual lal, and, by example in ciated, that other, or to do not the ;liey would, f by having le suddenly I his blind- his eye, as icription of 3uch as wc i'^ery move- nt doubt, pon sight, le mind in ih is often e, will be the latter at solidity not direct an object I hardness INTELLECT. 43 and softness, smoothness and roughness: these all appear to be direct objects of vision ; and yet it must be obvious that they are but inferences of the mind, in connexion with certain states or impressions of the eye. It is in the same manner that we come to measure distance by the ear as well as by the eye and by both, as though it were a primary information of these senses. Let the customary state of the organ and of the me- dium through which it acts be disturbed by some unusual cause by a temporary imperfection of the organ, or by some unusual state of the atmosphere, and the inference of the mind will be wrong, or the mind will be altogether at a loss-and the sound or the object of sight, will be tliought to be nearer or more distant than it is, or no inference at all will be ventured upon A given degree of sound," says Abercrombie, "if we believe It to have been produced in the next room, wo might conclude to proceed from the fall of some trifling body ; but if we sun- posed It to be at the distance of several miles, we should imme- diately conclude that it proceeded from a tremendous explosion " How IS the inference of the mind upset when a straight object s seen through water ! The oar of the bargeman appears' to be bioken in two-and a beam placed upright is bent from the perpendicular.* Objects appear enlarged when seen through a fog, while, in particular states of the atmosphere, land seems rnuch nearer than m other states, and vice versd.f The ear of the Indian huntsman or trapper can discern and tell the dis- tances of sounds when another would be altogether at a loss or would not hear the slightest noise. The encLpmen of 2 enemy not far off is an inference from marks that would escape any o^ier eye. Time itself is measured by the trail 0?! flying foe. It can be accurately told on what precise day they * Tlio rajH of light, which are the only pro])er vhjvrt of vision, are rcfnictea to the eye, so tliat the inference of the mind is ns in tlio case of really crooked objects. The eye convoys the same intel- ligence to the mind, or experiences the saints sensations, as when an actually bent orcnwkcd objed ispresentodtothesight. t The mind judges from the dim- ness of objects in a fog tliat they are far off, while they have the magnitude of actual n(!aniesH. 'J'ho inference, therefore, is, that the object in very large, because it is supposed to be dis. tant. 44 INTELLECT. ■ passed over this part of their route, and how many days tliey are before on their march, by a pressure in the grass which it might be supposed impossible to discern. A sailor accus- tomed to the watch on the deck, hears sounds which no other would detect, and sees a sail on the horizon, when, to another eye, all is empty space. It is obvious, then, that there are _ acquired impressions both of the sense of hearing and seeing, and these are precisely the senses which are most exercised,' and on which we most depend. A blind person learns infer- ences in connexion with the sense of hearing to which another is an utter stranger ; so the deaf person from the sense of eight. Many blind persons can tell colours by the touch : so powerful is the law of association in connexion with the pro- cesses of mind— a law which works with a force of which we shall yet have many remarkable examples. We but seem to see that sky, then, so many fathoms over- head : all that we see is its azure, and that is painted on the retina of the eye. One would suppose that the space between us and the sky was seea.* Those spaces through which we pass daily, the objects on which the eye rests— the street, the houses, the persons we meet, are not objects of sight, are not truly seen— we mean as such: the eye can take in at any time but a small surface, and that but a surface of colour— all the rest is but an inference, or are but inferences of the mind in connexion with certain visual sensations. The inferences are go rapidly made, however, that the objects appear to be real objects of vision. They are truly objects of another sense; or the sensations and impressions of that other sense have united with those of the eye to give us in connexion with the impressions of the latter the magnitude, figure, and relative distances of objects. It is as if we saw :hese, because thev are intimately connected with certain visual sensations. They are all real, but they are not immediate objects of sight. Their * Space is distance in all directions, or that which allows of distance in all directions; but diKtiuicc in any direc- tion h but a line from a jinint on the retina; distance tiicii cannot be seen ; and multiply points upon the retina, could that give us spate, or the measure- nicpit of space? INTELLECT, 45 reality is not denied-it is only that they are not seen that is asserted. That figure, that magnitude, thai distance, are as real as if they were seen, but it is truly by a mental process by a previous process of association, and now by a rapid process of inference, that they are discerned * How wonderful I but what is not wonderful in that system of which we are a part ? It IS the truest lesson of philosophy to learn when to wonder and yet not to doubt. The art of the painter may illustrate this subject. How is It that he can represent on his canvas, figure, "distance, and almost action ? It is by simple attention to the laws of per- spective. We exclude from the consideration at present that genius which cannot only draw well, and give the proper light and shade, so as to deceive the eye, but can convey the senti- ment as well as the truth of nature. By an accurate attention to the simple laws of perspective, an object can be so repro sented as to deceive the keenest observer. The story of Zeuxis and Panhasius is well known. The birds came to pick the grapes of Zeuxis : Zeuxis would withdraw the curtain of Par rhasius. By the management of light and shade in dioramas the optical deception is complete. It would be impossible to say that the long drawn aisles of the cathedral are not before us. The Colosseum in London represents the city as seen from the dome of St. Paul's, it were difficult not to say, as perfectly as If It were actually beheld. Streets, bridges, houses, churches spires, omnibuses, drays, the crowds pouring a^ong Fleet Street an the Strand, the Thames, the new Parliament Iw Westminster Cathedral, the very towers of St. Paul's itself vvhich are supposed to be at your feet, and the interminable * Certmn amusing speculations might follow from tl.iH view-or results— couKl we actually r :ark the process as it goes on, the inf.-rences of (lie mind as they arise along with the sensations of sight In addressing a friend wc could only say, I infer you to be so and so ; 1 be- lieve you to be standing there ; I be- lieve you to be of such a height, such P form ; I believe you to have come in euch a direction, to be going in such an- other. All would be inference, belief Only of colour could it be positively or properly said, Isee that colour. ! i «(w ii j < a' ■ 46 INTELLECT. extent of buildings, both on the Middlesex and Surrey side of the river, all are so accurately given, with such effect of per- spective, that the spectator might challenge any one, so far as the completeness of the illusion is concerned, to say that it is not London ; and yet it is but a sheet of canvas. The same impressions received by the eye as from the actual objects, the mind apart from other data, could not say that the actual objects are not seen. By a proper shading the very roundness ot the human figure may appear to start from the canvas- and the distances in landscape may be so accurately preserved that for a time you experience all the delights derivable from' actual scenery. The representation of the last judgment by Michael Angelo so affected a spectator, that he said-his blood chilled as If the reality were before him, and the very sound of the trumpet seemed to pierce his ear. There must be much more in all this than a mere attention to the laws of perspective. Mere imitation is the lowest part of the painter's art. There are not only forms to be accurately given, not only must the per- spective be preserved, but the sentiment that lies over a landscape, and the life or expression that is in a countenance or a scene must be communicated. Then, in addition to the Illusion which correct perspective produces, you have aU the animation and all the mind which mind itself throws around even the inanimate scene, and which must be in the living terms and actions which are transferred to the picture. " Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And show the immortal labours in my verse, mere from tlie mingled strength of shade and light, A new creation rises to my sight ; Such heavenly figures from liis pencil flow, So warm with life his blended colours glo./." * But the truthfulness of the mere laws of perspective, and the Illusion which they are capable of exerting, show that what appears to be the mformations of vision, or the ," irect objects ot sight, are truly acquired perceptions. * Addison. Letter from Italy to Lord Halifsx. INTELLECT. 47 VI. mIZ ^'Tv. *^"'' '^'"' ^"^'"'^ "' '^' ''''"^'^^^ ProFrties of matter. These are extension, divisibility, solidity or fluidity hardness or softness, and figure. Motion does noLeem to be' aproperty of matter: it is something communicated to it no belongmg to it. But the qualities enumerated enter into our very conception of matter. It is by these qualities that matte becon,es known to us. The properties of fragrance, heat or cold, sweetness or bitterness, are not essential to matJer-they do not enter into our idea of matter. We can conceive matter totally destitute of them, as indeed it often is. Bu'matt without extension or some degree of resistance to the touch would be a contradiction. And there is more than our havTng given the name. Matter, to that which discovers itself to u! by these properties, which, according to Dr. Brown seems to be the amount of a quality or qualities being primly or^en tia to matter : they are so, according to him hoc2eZeZl called that matter which possesses these qualities. If we had ^ven he name of matter to that which excited the sensation of CO our, of fragrance, of heat or cold, of sound-these according to Dr. Brown, would have been the prirr^ qualitS tThe" • f "' 'r ""^ ^''' '^^^ ^-'^ capV7f ?nt mal ing the existence of matter to us, which they are not. They do not seem to be capable of intimating even anything externS tons Itisnotto them that we have traced dther^he^a of externality, or that of matter as a substance without us Besides, they are fluctuating, varying, qualities. They may be then to them, would be but to assign another name to qualities tlTtWber'w"' for they could not themselves Ittte that they belonged to an external substance. Or if thev could xntimate this, there would be as many kinds of ma t rTs the e r tit m'usr. "" °' *'^" "^" '''''''''' *^ ^" ^^''- mt there must be some permanent or invariable qualities before we can employ a name significant of them all or S iiiriitiimM»ii 48 INTELLECT. I which they were significant. According to Dr. Brown himself extension and resistance are the only two qualities which can invariably be predicated of matter; for figure and magnitude are modifications of extension,-a8 solidity and fluidity hard- ness, softness, are of resistance. Both solidity and fluidity, both hardness and softness, are not essential to matter : but either of them must be-that is, matter must be either solid or fluid, hard or soft. We cannot conceive the absence of both at one and the same time, but we can conceive the absence of one of them. The same with roughness and smoothness. iiut extension and some degree of resistance must always be possessed-must always be present, and therefore it is that Dr J^rown himself has reduced the primary qualities of matter to these two. They may be reduced still further, viz., to resist- ance; for extension is rather a property of space than of matter. Matter, even a monad, is resistance in space What IS essential to matter, what enters into our very idea of it ia called a primary quality. All the other qualities of matter 'are called secondary. The non-essential, or secondary qualities of matter, are those which are not invariably possessed by it. We could not give an unvarying, or one, name to that which was itself vary- ing and more than one. The two qualities which are always possessed by matter, never separate from it, and one ofxohich IS that ivhich intimates its existence, these two qualities are extension and resistance. Under extension we include magni- tude and figure ; under resistance, hardness, softness, solidity fluidity, smoothness, roughness. And these are objects of the sense of touch. The qualities which are the objects of the other senses may be possessed or may not ; and hence they are called secondary. The colours of bodies, their fragrance their sonorousness, or, again, their sapidity or insipidity-these vary with the object • some objects possess them, and more or fewer of them ; others may possess none of them, or some of them in so small a degree as hardly to be the object of sense. But every object is extended, and has the power or propertv of resistance. The material framework by which we are sur- m.\ INTELLECT. 49 rounded, including this world and these globes far into the boundless regions of space, but presents fhese'two ^entt qualities-extension and resistance. Wei<.ht or Tn 'T^ a law of matter, rather than a proper^ "^ WeXrb. l'';, " action of gravitation which pervades aUmaWer a Z \ u preserves the universe in ord'er, and but Tw^h XtM^ would rush into original chaos. No particle of 1 e7wluld cohere to another: no planet would seek its centrror rX a planet or globe could not exist. We would hav Curb's dance of a toins,-and yet why that dance ?-why X™ all ?-and if stationary, by what law ? The trutH Tt t impossible for our minds, at least, to conceive any othe; stote of things han that which prevails; and we are lerinevitoblv to a presiding mmd, the author, and upholder, of all the o^d^ and all the harmony that obtain in the universe The centripetal and centrifugal forces seem to be the two grand agencies by which the universe is maintained in pos t on or xn ite harmonious movements. The centripetal, orTw of gravitation is that which regulates the internal movements of eveiy world ; and thus, as extension and resistance, wTtL^r .0 these two forces, with their modifications, may form the two secured, and order and action are maintained Weight, therefore, one of the apparent properties of mnffpr belongs rather to one of the two laws we hleCn" one? By solid, or fluid, substance, and its motions are modifications of he centripetal and centrifugal laws; these, at least are lie two great general laws which guide its moti n, and keep ev , particle of matter in its place. A derangemeit of thiTaws would, perhaps, derange the properties of extension and eSs7 ance ; at aU events, the former. It is by the coherence of he partices of bodies that we have anything extended and Jay not that coherence, and the laws of fluid bodies by which respectively, we have solidity and fluidity, be T^ing ^ the ■^1 50 INTELLECT. same law of gravity which makes every particle seek its centre ? Locke makes the secondary qualities of matter but modifica- tions of the primary, and those other properties, as that of heat to melt wax, or fuse iron, which are generally regarded as powere rather than qualities of matter— he maintains to be as much qualities as the other. Ho spends many useless pages to shew that the secondary qualities of matter are but modifications of the primary. It would be altogether idle to follow him in such an attempt. Colour, taste, smell, and even heat and cold, according to him, are produced by the bulk, figure, and motion of the corpuscles of mattsr. Heat, to use his own words, is but " a certain sort and degree of motion in the minute par- ticles of our nerves or animal spirits, caused by the corpuscles of some other body." In this, and the doctrine which Locke seemed to hold— that the primary qualities of matter could not be discerned by the mind but by the medium of impulse, so that, in the case of distant objects, there must be the interven- tion of insensible particles, in order to perception— this great and original thinker seems to have fallen into the error of en- deavouring to account for what was inexplicable, not satisfied, in this instance, at least, to confess ignorance, or to refer the matter to a mere original law of our constitution.* His suppo- sition that the secondary may be but modifications of the primary qualities, is a mere gratuitous assumption. Here, as elsewhere, explanation is not necessary, and an ultimate law of our constitution is the whole of the matter, or is a sufficient explanation. The ideas which we have endeavoured to trace may now be supposed to pour in upon the infant's mind in a continuous stream. It will no longer be restrained by the slow process of naarking every feeling as it arises, attending to it, and forming Its conclusions The process, as traced by Dr. Brown, by which * It is by this doctrine that Locke seems to fuvour tlie representationah'st theori' of perception, as opposed to imme- diate perception. Thiw, however, mijrht fairly be regarded as a casual view, rather than a selflcd doctrine of Locke. INTELLECT. 61 ti.0 »imi,le,t idea,. VfTZZ' llLkl T ""?'■ "' """^ "^ to the idea in V^U^. w7Z u^:^T TT"' "' "'"'' give m tliis idea. It is very evident inZd , ^'T «^ "> lion which Dr. Brown mali™ „f . ^' u • ' *"' ""^ ™PP»»'- of an bfant would not of ili™tLr,"° "i'^'^ '" *e hand simple idea of extension. If flfbll^i^/; ."''°»-. »' "•» the feeling would be verv little IX^vl' . '" ""* ' <^ «en a le«r extent of tl Zt'lZd "' """''' ^ '' iu fact, a simple tactual ^nS"; bLIT^Z'^'t'?-"' a surface is different, and seems WeeSlti f""^ "^""S the idea of extension Therl i, « 7^ "? J' "^ ™«S™«"g ance, which surelv I inlt T j ™*»«'' Mng of resist- neceiaryto'alS^; .^ wflX" r"'""'.""^ *»' '" Dr Brown's account of thrr:^^'^^^- i»f - '» f-on, Tn 'he°p '„n eSt''"rth' "'*"^> """-"- attention to the differ™! ? ! ' .""^ '""T"'' "^ directing it has mr>n^i^lzz.T:Zit:'T rr •"'"" them, and when now ,> Lo T I *^® ^^^ ^^ acquiring its education z,::r'trcC;::fr? ^° ',° ='^*'"' -n^ted and ..telligible l«^ul "'ffitle'r i ™ '"'" " have been truly like tlmf nf o i -""^erto, its processes the lettei. have to L ttn ' f"^"'"* P^"°^ ^^ ^'^^^ ^^^^« gent reading. All he il "' ' ''^^' '^P^^' ^"^^ ^"^^"i- been acquired atd not fh. '^ ""f' '^ '^'•*^"^ ^^«^« ^^^e knowing, or in thell r '^"'" ^'^ ^^ "^^^ '* ^^^'^""t its The eyt'ean now tike " IT'' ''""'^"^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^-.e. and yet associated ■ ZTT ' '""'''' ^'^ discriminated, ...-..-L,rrj';:.;-s--i-::-i; 52 INTELLECT. senses. But we are anticipating, and there are a few other simple ideas that have not yet been accounted for, and which, when obtfiined, seem, along with those already traced, to form the grand elementary ideas of the mind ; we mean the ideas of space, time, power, motion and rest, and number. VII.— Space. '^ The account which Locke gives of Space, or the idea of Space, is this: speaking of solidity he says,— « This is the idea which belongs to body, whereby we conceive it to fill space. The idea of which fiUing of space, is, that where we imagine any space taken up by a solid substance, we conceive it so to possess it, that it excludes all other solid substances." Locke thus traces our idea of space to solidity filling it ; the idea of a solid substance gives us the idea of space, as that in which it exists, or may be said to be. Dr. Reid's account of the idea is the following:-" We are next," says he, "to consider our notion of space. It may be observed, that although space may not be perceived by any of our senses, when all matter is re- moved, yet, when we perceive any of the primary qualities, space presents itself as a necessary concomitant, for there can neither be extension nor motion, nor figure, nor division, nor cohesion of parts, without space. There are only two of our senses," Dr. Reid continues, "by which the notion of space enters into the mind, to wit, touch and sight. If we suppose a man to have neither of these senses, I do not see how he could ever have any conception of space. Supposing him to have both, until he sees or feels other objects, he can have no notion ot space. It has neither colour nor figure to make it an object ot sight; It has no tangible quality to make it an object of touch. But other objects of sight and touch carry the notion of space along with them ; and not the notion only, but the belief of It ; for a body could not exist if there was no space to contain if. It could not move if there was no space. Its situation. Its distance, and eveiy relation it has to other bodies suppot^e space.' ' INTELLECT. 53 Such is tho origin of the idea according to these several 1 u osophex.. Locke separates the idea of 'pace frl hi U sohdzty, by supposing a body moving out of it. place and no other coming mto it. Reid says,-" A body could no ListTf there was no space to contain it. It could not move if there was no space ; its situation, its distance, and every relation it has to other bodies suppose space." The two things which suggest the Idea, therefore, are solidity, or body c^cup^C space, and mofon. Dr. Reid ^ys,-« There are only two of our senses 1^ winch the notion of space enters into the mind, oft'^r T^ "f ' '" '^^^ be rather defers to an opinion of B rkeley than adopts it. Berkeley held that there was a vmble extension, and a visible space, as well as a tangilk, bein! that xtent of the visual organ that wa. affected by the outwarS object or space But we might as well speak of an audible ex- nsion, and auchble space ; for, no doubt, there is a certain extent of the organ of hearing affected by every impression which sound makes upon i , and, perhaps, in proportion to the distance of rock tlbl f "''^"^'"'^' '^ '^' ^'^' P^^^""'^^ ^'' ^« ^hen a Hn J P .? . T ''"'' ^^'^' ^''S^'' '' ^ bell, like that of Lincoln Cathedral, emits its tones. But we do not speak of audible extension or audible space. The idea, no doubtT enters tnr''"tl^r^^ *'"'^ "^'^'^^' ^°^ '' g«* P"«r to the power mo r I ''' '' '"'""°^ ^S"^-^' ^^°-t"de, distence, motion. It arises, no doubt, with the ve^^ notion of solidity Lint TfTr f "''*''°- ^''^'' P^^b^b^^^' g-- '^' *-^« account of It when he says,-" If we can have the idea of one gives us tho idea ot {mre apace." But when we have got the idea, what is the amount of it ? Perhaps we may in vain put thU question. We quote a-min the words of Dr. Eeid:-"B„t, though the notion of ^Z seems not to enter at fi,.t into the mind, until it is iZZZ laLTir °''-'"";' """' '"'' "^^ »- »*~'"-^r« lemauiB m our conception and belief, though the objects wh oh in toduced It be ..moved. We see no abfnrdity in , rpi^to' "body tohoannihilated; but the space that containi'it ,^ ^ilSX£.'^-j^ikmim'i*iBi0nK>mv0iih:mefiKm 54 INTELLECl'. i iiiains ; and to suppose that annihilated seems to be absurd It 18 so much allied to nothing or emptiness, that it seems incapable of annihilation or of creation. " Space not only retains a firm hold of our belief, even when we suppose all the objects that introduced it to be annihilated but It swells to immensity. We can set no limits to it, either of extent or of duration. Hence we call it immense, eternal immovable, and indestructible. But it is only an immense' . eternal, immovable, and indestructible void or emptiness' Perhaps, we may apply to it what the Peripatetics said of their first matter, that whatever it is, it is potentially only, not actually. ' "When we consider parts of space that have measure and figure, there is nothing we understand better, nothing about which we reason so clearly, and to so great extent. Extension and figure are circumscribed parts of space, and are the object ot geometry, a science in which human reason has the most ample field, and can go deeper, and with more certaintv, than m any other. But when we attempt to comprehend the whole ot space, and to trace it to its origin, we lose ourselves in the search. Perhaps there is not one of our ideas that is so puzzling as that of space, unless it be that of power, and even it is more capable of bemg grasped than that of space. « An immense eternal, immovable, and indestructible void or emptiness I" is that an idea that we can take hold of? or is it the idea of anything? And yet, it is perhaps as good a description of the Idea as we can have, while space itself may bo susceptible of no better definition. Kant and the German metaphysicians deny xts reality, and make it a mere form of our sensibility 1 his, however, is about as intelligible as space itself. It would be as easy to und-stand the one as the other. Nay I have some idea of space, however puzzling the idea, but J have no Idea of what a form of sensibility is, distinct from the sensi- bility Itself; and if space is to bo resolved into a mere state of our own sensibility, then it is nothing. The mind will not give up ,ts Ideas in that way. An idea must have something INTKLLECT. 55 ling as of I for wLich It stands. It is true the mind may conceive of what never ex.sted: it may have the idea of a centaur an^a goTdea mountain But these are mere combinations of ideas and the xdeas of winch they are composed must have harth^p ot ypes m reahty. It is not of such ideas that we speakbu" those simple ideas that are forced upon us in spite of ours Ives which we cannot d.vest oui^elves of, and which seem to reta a possession of the mind only because there is that of which thy are the Ideas We must be content with the idea at least, and believe there is so much as the idea goes for Dr. Samuel Clarke makes it an attrihiUe, and contends that as an attnlute must have a suh ^t, and we Cannot conceive th ertelce^ri ''' ^'' '^'' ^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^^« But space as an attribute is as unintelli- Me as snace as r r w'rf ' ""^^^'^^ ^'*^^^^ «^-« to^colraT^ea" ing. We believe we must be content with the idea we have and be satisfied that that exists which answers to the dea "f onr minds Is that to be resolved into a mere fonu of though or sensibility through which the planets wheel their courses in orbits of such inconceivable extent, and the most distent boumls of which are but giving up to the telescope, and to the calcu- la ions of the lonely astronomer, planets hitherto undiscovered, and tiaces of fields still more distent, studded with worlds the more interesting that they are so remote ? The bird on its free and noble wmg would hardly thank the philosopher for westn tl'"""'?' " ''' ^" ^'''"^^'^ '^ ^y--^- I-PPoso entlvoth. ri' r!"' or perform our journeys, independ- en y of the philosopher's notion of space. We shall not allow ourselves to be restrained by it in our efforts for the good of ourjecies, or forget that the world only bounds the 'empire We cannot help quoting the following characteiistic passage from Dr. Chalmers .-" We cannot take leave of Mr. S Th Tt r "-^ the homage of our grateful admiration to ne :^^:r:^^t'^'^- ^^^— ^- two phuoso. l>hies of acrniany and Scotland. It is true that in his theolo"-y iiiWWMiii 56 INTELLECT, Bi lie IS altogether wrong, though, judging from the general spirit and drift of his speculations, we should say of him, that he is not unhopeful. But what has earned for him our peculiar esteem is his having so nobly asserted the prerogatives of com- mon sense against the sceptical philosophy of Kant. In parti- cular, his manly, and withal most effectual defence of the reality of space and time, might well put to shame certain of our own savans, who, in compliance with this wretched jabber of the school at Konigsberg, now speak of both these elements as havmg no valid significancy in themselves, but as being mere products of idealism, or forms of human thought. In the immediate successors of Kant we can easily forgive this extra- vagance, as Fichte, of whom we should not have expected, for one moment, that the « common sense' philosophy would ever lead him to give up one iota of his transcendentalism. But although common sense was utterly powerless against it, yet upon one occasion it had nearly given way, when brought into senous conflict with a not uncommon sensibility ; for Fichte, as we were pleased to find, though a metaphysician, and in the most abstract form, so far proved himself to be a possessor of our own concrete humanity, as to fall in love. But circum- stances forced him to quit for a season the lady of bis affections; and, when at the distance of 300 miles, German miles, too, he thus writes to her:— 'Again left to myself, to my solitude, to my own thoughts, my soul flies directly to your presence. How IS this ? It is but three days since I have seen you, and I must often be absent from you for a longer period than that. Dis- tance is but distance, and I am equally separated from you in Flaach or in Zurich. But how comes it that this absence has seemed to me longer than usual, that my heart longs more earnestly to be with you, that I imagine I have not seen you lor a week ? Have I philosophized falsely of late about dis- tance ? Oh, that our feelings must still contradict the firmest conclusions of our reason !' Mr. Morell deprecates what he calls the Ignoble application of ridicule to philosophy; yet we should not be sorry if, with the possession of such rich materials for the exposure of that intellectual Quixotism into which so many INTKLLECT. 57 minds in Germany and elsewhere are now running wild some one having the talents of Butler or Cervantes were! a Se and banrsh th. grotesque and outrageous foUy from the face of the tion Tort '*Rf ";' *' "^'^r/' "' ^'"^'^ ^^^« ^°r« tolera. tion for It. But it is now making frequent inroad within our own borders; and we are grieved to find that Mr Whew" expresses h.mse f as if carried by the prestige of the Germla philosophy and its outlandish nomenclature. We are noJ^^^n sure If Sir John Herschell be altogether frc: from it W «hall exceedmgly regret if the manly English sense of fhZl great masters in physical science shall pr^v to hTve bel in the least yitmted by this admixture from abroad. In the lace of the. high authority, we shall persist in regarding thwhde of the mtermediate space between ourselves and the plant Uranus as an objective reality; and when we read of th plane trembhng along the line of their analysis' we sha look still farther off, or still more objectively, to'the spice tha IS beyond It, nay, and shall infer, with al confidence tha there must be a force outside which is disturbing its movements Me are persuaded that common sense prev!iled, and S metaphysics were for a time forgotten, when, in he glorbus fZr """ ^r'^' ''^^ ""'''''' *'- --fi«-t-n both o7aa objective space and an objective causality "* Cousin notices these three particulars connected with the Idea of space as distinguished from that of body. The idea of eTstenrir?r?°"^*'^"^ ^^^^ '^ ^^--^ ^'~y existence, that of body comes to us as of that which may be, or may not be: the idea of space is that of something wS ever) side, the idea of sp^ce is wholly one of reason, that of body IS accompanied with a sensible representation. ' Space, then IS a necessary existence. We cannot conceive it not to bo : and it is in^nite, without any limits. It is i ot om -n- that give us the idea of it: it swings up in oreZ * North BritLsh Revicv. No. XII., ,,,,, 305-307. 68 INTELLECT. With the idea of body in space, or motion through space. When Dr. Reid says that there are only two senses through wliich the Idea can be introduced to the mind, sight and touch, he means merely that it is in connexion with the objects of these senses that the idea comes to us. He says, a body could not exist if there was no spt:je to contain it : it could not move if there was no space. He calls it "an immense, that : ^ infinite, eternal, immov- able, and indestructible void or emptiness." With Cousin space 18 objective or has ohjectivity, for he speaks of it as infinite. It would be absurd to speak of a form of thought as infinite Chalmers also contends for its objectivity. « We shall perdst;' he says, " m regarding the whole of the intermediate space be- tioeen ourselves and the planet Uranus as an objective reality." The peculiarity regarding space is, that it is not a substance of any kind, and yet it cannot be called merely an attribute as Dr. Clarke regards it, while it is an « objective reality." What can that be which is neither a substance nor an attribute, and yet has an objective existence ? But iuhat is a substance 'i Can we give any other description of it than as that which reveals qualities ? May it not, then, be as intelligible a description of space that it is that in which a substance exists ? Substance IS that in which qualities exist— space is that in which sub- stance exists. It is not a quality or attribute of substance, but It IS that in which substance exists, but which itself again might exist without substance. Farther our ideaf. cannot go Thei-e 13 one difficulty connected with it, that it is eternal, and mfinite, and necessary, and has an existence. Are not these the very attributes and description of Deity ? and are we not thus making something distinct from God, co-eternal with him, and possessed like himself of infinite and necessary existence ? But although we make it an existence, we do not make it Being; and our idea of it is, that in which Being exists. We say farther than this our ideas cannot go. We know it, at least' as that m which matter exists, and in which matter moves' Whether it be equally necessary for spiritual Beings to exist and expatiate in, it is impossible for us to say. In one of the most metaphysical and profoundest of our poets, we find the INTELLECT. 59 expression, "placeless as spirit." We cannot m all yet so tllmg ,t as that he does not exist in parts and i« nnt d.v.s,b,e as space is. And it is a thought o^f Z^t IZ each of his own great inteUect, or which he arrived at bv a ubtlety peculiarly his own, that while we caanoZrk ! lu ter a, .nflmte yet ,n infinity there may be ^c. toiuow «7^ forever ,^uU.pl,inc,, so that go where we wiU theremay be 3ii:jrs:-;::,=:.-r,:;;™r£' or a some have regarded the dissolution of the univers pSlv Time. ^ Jme must ahvays have been as well as space. We do not believe m xme, however, as objective, as having obiecdvitv Tt 18 a very daflferent idea from that of space. Space twL^ us: t.,,e IS neither within us nor without us' lli;f 1* that time is merely a form of thought? And yet XtT time? Let it check the vanity of specuhuLs thnT. can^t define that of which they hL yJT^'JTiJZ itteas m the mmd, that succession marked by the mind, and 60 INTELLECT. with it growing up or arising the idea of time. Dr. Brown, again, thinks that it is in acquiring tlie idea of extension that we acquire the idea of time, and he supposes that the latter is necessary to the former. He supposes it is by the fingers of the child closing upon a circular body, as a ball, or some body of different dimensions, in the hand, that the idea is awakened. The fingers reach the different parts of the body in different times: this is marlced by the child, and the idea oftimegroios lip. This, according to Dr. Brown, is even before the idea of an external world, or indeed of externality at all. It is the in- terruption merely of certain series of feelings at different points, giving different lengths, and the co-existence of the series awakening the notion of breadth ; and thus the ideas of time and extension are simultaneous. The idea of extension is thus, according to Dr. Brown, before that of a body that is extended.' But is it not possible that in some, nay in many, out of the millions of cases, sucli a process as is supposed was never gone through ; and how did the ideas of time and extension arise in these cases ? It is necessary to Dr. Brown's theory that every infant has gone through this process. Now it is quite suppos- able that many an infant never had a ball placed in its hand, or any body of different dimensions. Or if Dr. Brown were to' peril his theory upon the obstruction of other objects— its own limbs, for example, when it moved its hand, is the supposition at all probable that the idea of time in every instance came into the mind in this way ? This may have been one of the ways, but even as one of them, it seems a fanciful source for the idea,— mther a precarious hold for such an idea to depend upon. It seems far more likely that the idea arose from a series of feelings of whatever kind, or even, according to Locke, the procession of thoughts in the mind. The idea of tlie inner self, repeated in the mind, frequently borne in upon it, and thus duration or time accompanying every such idea or act of menioiy— for there is memory in every feeling of self-conscious- ness, otherwise how could there be a reference of any, and particularly every new feeling to self ?— we say duration, or time, accompanying every act of meiuory, implied in self- INTELLECT. (il con«io„8ne« the idea of ti,„e would necMsarily arise W„ ever k nd , it is not necessarj- to condcsn- ,d upon the mrtiV,, oo»s«o«,, seems enough to gi . „. ,.,o idea ^ *^ 1 hnd tliot this is precisely the view of Cousin. We cannot refrain from quoting the parage in „l,ich he brini omW view, so e,aet is the coincidence between the viewf we have briefly explained, and those of Cousin, elabo.te^T;^": d."l"l -" f f ''°*°'' '^"^'^^ <>'' ''"'P' "omme de I'orisine de lidee de resp...e. DUinguez encore I'ordre d'acquTS de uos id^ et leur ordre logique. Dan» IWre lo^que t u™;s^tll ,"": '""T" '""'"""^"^ d'evenem^nl pr^ sion. Ote. ,a continuity du tel^ C S la ^ -bn^ne" la nccessiondes evenemente, comme e'tant Ot* Cntinv.it de 1 «pace ^t abohe la possibili.d de la juxtaposition "Set coexistence dee corps. Mais, dans IWte chronologique el .d& du temps qui les renfemie. Je no veux pas die Cle acw/T' ^°" '''''"^' 1™ ■«"" ''^'"'» ™e idee cE raent iidee dun temps qui renferme cette succession- i» L seulement qu 1 faut bien que nous ayons d'aboTriion de qnelques ^v,Snen,ents, pour que nous concevionrquf ^ evdnemen s sent da.s un temps. Le temps ea le Heu Z evenements eomme I'espace est celui des c^rps.- qui n'auml hdfe d'aucnn ove-nement, n'anrait ridee dJcun tempr g done la condition logique de Kdoe de succession est dans i'idl dtSeU^rrn."'"""'"-^^"^ ^» '* ^" -^ - Ti^Z'^S ^""^ *™»''>»SiV>'= de la conception necessaiie dn temps. Mais toute idee de succession est une I '"" II I V II J* IL. 62 INTELLECT. acquisition do I'experience ; reste a savoir de (inellc experience Est-ce ceUe des sens ou celle des operations de Tame ? La premiere succession nous est-elle donnde dans le spectacle des eveuements exterieurs, ou dans la conscience des eve'nemenvs qui se passent en nous ? " Prenez une succession d'e've'nements exte'rieurs : pour que ces e'venements se succMent, il faut qu'il y ait un premier, un second, un troisieme evdnement, etc. Mais si, quand vous voyez le second eve'nement, vous ne vous souveniez pas du pie- mier, il n'y aurait pas de second, il n'y aurait pas de succession pour vous ; vous vous arreteriez toujours a un premier qui n aurait pas meme le caractere de premier, puisqu'il n'y aurait pas de second, ^intervention de la m4moire est done neces- satre pour concevoir une succession quelconque. Or la me- moire n'a pour objet direct rien d'exterieur ; elle ne se rapporte point immediatement aux choses, mais a nous. Quand on dit • Nous nous souvenons d'une personne, nous nous souvenons d'un lieu, cela ne veut pas dire autre chose, sinon que nous nous sou- venons d'avoir ete voyant tel lieu, voyant ou entendant telle per- sonne. Nous n'avons memoire que de nous-memes, car il n'y a memoire qu'a cette condition qu'il y ait eu conscience. Si done la conscience est la condition de la memoire, comine la mmioire est la condition cfe Videe de succession, il s'en^dt que lamemih'e succession nous est donnee en nous-mSmes, dans la conscience dans les objefs et les pUiomhes propres de la conscience, dam nos pensees, dam nos id^es. Mais si la premiere succession qui nous est donnee est celle de nos idees, comme k toute succession est attachee ne'cessairement la conception du temps il s' nsuit encore que la premiere idee que nous ayons du temps est celle du temps dans lequel nous somraes; et de m^me que la pre- miere succession est pour nous la succession de nos idees de meme la premiere duree est pour nous notre propre duree'; la succession des e'venements exterr-.-s, et la durde dans laquelle 8 accomplis.ent ces e'venements, ne nous sent connues qu'apr^s Je ne dis pas que la succession des e'venements exte'rieurs ne soit qu une induction de la succession de nos idees ; je ne dis pas non plus que la duree exte'rieure ne soit qu'une induction INTELLECT. p.. bo notredurte propre A,™ f', r*'""' '" "'ncepUon de nous est do„n& c'e,t k S„ "■ " I"™'*^ 'l"* 1"i par nd& d'u'e' sucllTil'nltlwn"™ "! '"«^*^'^ space, but fr„„LLtgd'",,rrT"' ""'' °' succeed one Zhiifr" V*™" "'M^-^ "'"* couitty awake. ErflSn ' th«' "■"^'''*°<«"8;. »« '""S as he is after anoZTn„rLa*?frrr;' "™"' ■''''"«' °- Mea of succession audfLn, Y' '^°''"'*'=^ '" "'* *''« succession TSecn M p ' '""""" ""^ r""» "^ ««" mind, is thr^w^rd^J^""^ "' "-^ "™ "- - «« confouud^. .0 s^Sorr s-s- -t-: 64 INTKLLECr of time, or duration, with time, or duration itself. Wo think no one can read the passage which Cousin quotes to justify this charge, without coming to the conclusion that Cousin has either sought a quarrel— if we may express ourselves in so homely phrase— ui iu^. .; liimself has misapprehended Locke's meaning. T.o;i e fjays;— -^ That wo have our notion of succes- sion from tliis origmal, (the original as already given,) viz., from reflection on the train of ideas which we find to appear, one after another, in our own minds, seems plain to me, in that we have no perception of duration, but by considering the train of ideas that take their iun:a in our understandings." 27ms ts not to confound the succession of our ideas and time, but just to say that we have no conception of time but from this succession, as we have no perception of it but from this succession. Cousin perhaps confounded conception and per- ception, and thought that Locke meant to say, that succession itself ia our only idea or conception of time, as it is in the suc- cession that we have the perception of time. Locke, however, according to Cousin, has the honour of tracing to their proper source the idea of time, duration, and, as a mode of that idea, the idea of eternity. While the notion of time is derived from succession, it is not itself succession. Succession only measures time : time is itself absolute. Events in time in no way affect time : it remains absolute. Time is therefore necessary, as space is. We are not able to conceive no time, or time not existing. And thus we are led to the idea of Eternity— for, as it is impossible to conceive time not to be, it must always he. The two Eternities meet in God ; for as He has existed in the one, it seems impossible to conceive the other has not somehow its existence also in Him. The name, " / am," " Jehovah," accordingly, is the peculiar title which he challenges for himself. Amid such mysteries are we situated. They touch— they press upon us on every side— we cannot escape them. " Si non rogas intelligo," was a wise answer to what, except INTfiLLRCT. 65 not explain spacl But ^cZZUZZ i^?' " 7 ^^"■ seek an explanation. UQaerstand it if wo do not Power. Another of our simple elementary ideas i« ih , ^ It appeal., like those already considered by J If "^ ^''"'''^ acquired. It would seem L hT I n ' ^ '^^ ^e'-y early observation of chan4 whether h""^"^ '"^^'^*^^ ^^ *he suceession in the mS own dl /" "' '' ^^^•^^"*- ^he the many instanceTof it Tn tt '^' "'' '' '^" '"'''^^^°" ^''^ the idea?^ Perha/s It' L ottc^^:"^^ "^^"^'^^ ^-•^- one which has been freaupnfl7T -^^ ^^^ succession be able in its operation tT? '''^'^' ^°^ ^^'^h is invari- JustastheStrtimSs^;^^^^^^^^^ the mind, it bein^ mrhZ \, '"'^''«««^on of ideas in its own ideas, r^K^^ ZL'st t ^'^ "^.-^^ ^ ^^^ without acquirinir the idP« nf f • ^ '^""^ ^^^^^^^al «elf, as it wouIdV natural to referln"'' ^ "'^ *^^ ^'^^ «^ P^-^ ducing- them, theThanyf ^r^inX^r; ^ thought or of feeling fS^m. 7 • ^***^^' whether of producing ti JrXh^rs^srTt r'™'°^ » present to it, or even heto^llhTj ^^' ^* "" ""'"'^ "■"<> would be fel , or eonceivrof Z T '"^""f "^ ■"'°<' ■« »»«'■. Mi"g Pre.^t forTetir It St?^ "'"^ ™^ early question.-Whence th^,„ ,k 7. ' '**»» ^ » "ery ings-what power h^;rot::ithef^I^'™*■''''" '"'■ tlie mind, that every effect mmf. •* ''° '"'""'<"' "f e#icfe/ The idea Z^^.yf- v 7^ ^ '"^gnised to be of certain ,„te™lT'««, ' "' ''°''' '" ""' '^''"™°» there be Teh a"t "l tiln't r"!.""'^' ^^ ^'^^ whatd e,«,,„,,^^„--- t 'ke .d«. of ca„3eP Por development of o„r idea. is^o:X ^t^tf of thl R 66 INTELLECT. ■ leaves of a flower. The one is involved in the other, and hardly separable from it ; it is like a part of it ; it opens as the other opens. The idea of power would brood, perhaps, over the mind at its earliest dawning. It would be involved almost in its earliest consciousness. It would be felt to be a poioer that was stirring in that first consciousness. At all events, it would undoubtedly accompany the first act of reference by the mind to something without. It would thus be before the observation of external changes. The idea would not be very definite, certainly, but still it would be possessed as soon as the mind made a reference of one of its feelings to something without. Cousin seems to argue that the idea, or the principle of causality, must be pos- sessed in order to the reference. So it must, but in this sense, that the idea, o. the principle, may be developed contemporane- ously with the reference, or in the reference. Something must obviously call the principles of the mind into play ; and the principle of causality— the principle that every effect must have a cause, which is just the idea of power, may bo awakened by that which calls for the reference of a feeling or feelings to Bomethlfig without. The idea oipoioer, or causality, is, that an effect must have a cawse— that there is something to produce the effect ; some " je ne sais quoi," as Cousin phrases it, which produces the effect. That idea, then, in virtue of a law or principle of the mind— that principle or law itself, now for the first time called into play— that idea may be begotten in the very appeal to the inner consciousness by something without, and the answering reference of the inner consciousness to the external cause. The principle is called into play— the idea is begotten— and externality is marked— all at the same instant. Our ideas, we have said, expand like the leaves of a flower, one in the other. But the idea may be before this, and, in virtue of the principle or law to recognise power where there are effects, power may have been recognised in comcioumess itself, or in virtue of consciousness — consciousness the effect of some power. If the idea was thus early, it must have been in a very unde- veloped state. Some cause of its feelings may have been demanded by the infant, and that when it was yet but existing INTELLECT. 67 one in a state of simple consciousness r, ; weots, that the idea mmtT. ?' '^"^ mauifesl, ot all «t least ,■„ the vc^Tap^ ^17? '"?'°''^''' '^ «°"'*™. the outward aud'thT faw^", "T^ ""■ '}"' '"""''- "''» would bo surprised intc ' a i ,«,i ^ '"y^^^^^ff- The mind or mther of exterual!:^, ;„ ■ '. -'^TJX' -'»"»' -H OM might not take . ffert Tl . ° """^ '"°''- The There would, perhaps b!-! d 2 ^T *"" ""> "'t^- eimultaneousfor.thel^ic^o^VrvLdT"^'''^ """'^ >» "» "^ they would not be disti„gltd?h^t ',.'"" "'''!°'''°s'»"y teruality would be the oeLion of both ' '"""^ "" ^^- iXeat? ^t; :;X f t^ ■' r ■•■'"' f- *o Of power ? What do w! ^ i * '' ''"P^^^'^ ^'^ t^e idea in the p.ue,ittrxTm i,irrcL:?t-^^^^^ H™lroa;:fzL-''S7^^^^^^ Essay on Cause and EffertT'w •?''',""' ""■■ '''°™'" Cause and Effect." Cousin cdk !^^T T "'° ^'""'o" "f ie Cause" one of the Z ? ^ "'"' "' P"™' »■■ "l'M& ■»K and Z leh Z 1"°""°! ''*"»°S '° ""o human >ife, and in the Zo f^h lolZ^^Vr ' " •'" '"""'"■ ™ General Assembly of tV. rf*^ t . I^^ opposition which John Leslie's anrointment 1 h °?~"''"'' °«'"^'' «° »'' University of ESumhlJ "'%r"''""'«oal chair in the npparenti; esptut £ ^cSZ f T "' ""' "'■' '"-«<>». lead to Aftei™ wS whit „1 ™°' "''''='' "oemed to - t'he suSi'^aidlt'n':: "^i"^ "f'^^" >"» ™™ 'heology reckons IT of s'ffid'nt" • "1 '" '''''''*l"'^' ""* 1(1 bo \ INTELLECT. enough, that strong a 3 the testimony of consciousness is upon the subject, the tendency was early exhibited to deny the ex- istence of anything more in the relation of cause and effect than a constant or invariable succession. It was contended that, in secondary causes, at all events, there is no efficiency, and that we in vain try to find out the efficient cause of any phenomenon ; that we merely arrive at a certain connexion between two events, the one invariably preceding, and the other invariably following. Dugald Stewart saj's, that the supposi- tion of a real efficiency "has misled the greater part of philosophers, and has had a surprising influence upon the systems which they have formed in very different departments of science." It is interesting to remark, that in these very words of Dugald Stewart he recognises the very efficiency which he is at the same time repudiating or denying ; for he speaks of a doctrine or view entertained by philosophers having a surprising influence upon the systems which they have formed in very different departments of science. What is this influence but efficiency? Barrow, and Hobbes, and Butler, and Berkeley, are all quoted by Dugald Stewart as denying efficiency in cause, and resolving it into an order or connexion established among the events in nature. It is in vain that we look for the efficient cause in any event ; we but see an order, or law, or connexion, which God may be supposed to have established, but which is in itself nothing more than a certain order, or law, or connexion. Barrow, for example, says, — " There can be no such connexion of an external efficient cause with its effect, (at least, none such can be understood by us,) through which, strictly speaking, the effect is necessarily supposed by the supposition of the efficient cause, or any determinate cause, by the supposition of the effect." Butler contends that we but see effects, that we know nothing of causes. Berkeley and others, again, contend, that attraction and repulsion, and suchlike supposed causes, are nothing more than certain rules or laws according to which Nature })roceeds in a uniform course ; they are the order that we observe, and are themselves pheno- mena to be accounted for. Almost every work on philosophy INTELLECT. 69 efflcienciea, 1 i w. of ^7/^? »t « °" "" ^^"' >ve but see effects we ,1„ „„t ^""'"' '"?" "">* lord " U nT, "Tt'"*^ ■""* ™~' '» I'ote his own prouver quil nyaqu'nn vra Dion mrpp n,i';i «> ™.-e «.„se/. We Le these scripIi^sTZ '„.?.. ".THr we live, and move, and have our being ■- and aj,"^ « Wl "•uri'it :"; "I-;- T- ""• «"*-"■' ^-«- w very much like a loo hteral interpretation of these state mcnts We know that Malebranche was re„,arkable for hL" He 'sue^ : r ■'""'"° '^ "^' '■^™ ^™" l"« doctrine from plot, had nurcht r-th itr;: LI r*«:^:;',";:;f natural agencies or «.„™. It was reserved f." H™ Js^;'' *-. v.- '■:y, •■■■,'. •* X 70 INTELLECT. matically to turn the doctrine against the existence even of a great First Cause, and to hint, if not broadly assert, that the connexion between the will of God and its effects was the same as that between any other apparent cause and its effects. Hume laboured as ingeniously in the cause of Atheism as others have done in the cause of Theism. His speculations were the most subtle and refined to weaken the foundations of all religion. Nothing could be more so ; and it only deserved a more worthy object to make his efforts worthy of him, and worthy of the refined and ingenious subtlety expended on them. Leslie, afterwards Sir John Leslie— a name famous in science—having in a note to one of his works expressed his approbation of Hume's speculation— which might be done with reference to all subordinate and secondary causes, without adopting his Atheistical application of the doctrine —was opposed, as we have already stated, in his views towards the mathematical professorship in the University of Edinburgh, by the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, the mem- bers of which did not wish to see Atheism introduced into any of the departments in the University. The doctrine was dis- puted at considerable length in the Assembly : some defending the doctrine both in itself and against all Atheistical results or applications of it ; others impugning the doctrine, and inaintaining that the atheistical application was but the legi- timate issue of the doctrine itself, was inevitable if the doc- trine itself was a true one. It was in these circumstances, at once to defend Leslie and to uphold the doctrine, that Dr. Brown— then himself hardly known to philosophy— wrote first a smaller, and then his larger, treatise upon Cause and Effect. Leslie was appointed to the professorship, and Brown's Essay is now one of the standard works in philosophy, and is, perhaps, the ablest review of the doctrine it maintains, that exists. Such were the circumstances in which Dr. Brown's Essay on Cause and Effect was produced. ^ Dr. Brown boldly adopts the view, that even the will of God is an efficient in the same sense, and in that only, in which any other cause is an efficient, viz,, an antecedent :' he INTELLECT, 71 be attributed TtsZe ^ / « A^ '"f "^ """ "™"' -t of the manner or 17^^ wh oh a" miT""' '^r «upreme„ind,ope«tes either ooWft on bXp wT *' I beseech you, do we aoquire an, idea of it ? W. ^ "' sentiment or oonsoiouBnm. r.r *>,■ • "^^ '"'™ "» Almighty himself willing whatever «em77„^' '." '^"^ creating or altering, by L .er^:^ ^^^^'^^''^X"' t 0. im,.na.™,^n Si ir att ^^ ^ eS." Pf™ea.rey:t:^i;--:^^^^^^^^ t|on, the mtroduction of any ciroum'tance of Tupp" eS T a ney aa , hi„g a closer bond of eoane.io7 woSd t truth, funuBh only a new antecedent to be itself connrt^d" Hume, then, denies all energy in the SunLr^- ™uch a. in .he gr.,«s. matter jlt iJt if'TgnoratLt;: a suffiaent reason for deuyinc anvthhw n, fe " , ^ uui u) lurnisii a new antecedeut in a ii^'"'"' * ■ 72 INTELLECT, train of sequence, whose connexion must itself be accounted for. Can such a doctrine be for a moment maintained? Strip the Divine will of all energy ! Make the Divine will but a link, although the first, in a train of sequence ! How is it possible to embrace such a conclusion as this? We think Dr. Brown was rash in hazarding such a doctrine, which he pushes even more boldly than Hume. He threw himself without hesitation into the contest, and he cer- tainly maintains it d I'outrance. There is no flincliing for a moment on Dr. Brown's part. Hume says, " Were our ignorance a good reason for rejecting anything, we should be led into the principle of denying all energy in the Su- preme Being, as much as in the grossest matter." Dr. Brown limits his conclusion by no such condition. With him, to ascribe efficiencij to the Divine agency, in any instance of its operation, is to introduce a circumstance of connexion to be itself connected. Dr. Brown makes the chain of causes, from the humblest up to the Divine Being himself, but a train of sequence, each part of the train connected with the other only in the relation of antecedence and consequence— the Divine will itself being but the first antecedent. And yet, with Dr. Brown, this is to give a sublimer view of the Divine agency than is possessed when we introduce any circumstance of efficiency into that agency. " We conceive only the Divine will, as if made visible to our imagination, and all nature at the very moment, rising around." The rapidity of the sequence is what, with Dr. Brown, gives sublimity to the event, or to our concep- tion of it. But it became Dr. Brown- to shew, that by ascrib- ing energy to the Divine will, or introducing, as Dr. Brown expresses it, a circumstance of efficiency, we take from the instantaneousness, or grand rapidity, of the connexion. It must be proved that by ascribing energy to the Divine will, or introducing a circumstance of efficiency, we are adding any- thing to the Divine will itself The ioill itself is the term in the sequence, but tJuit will is energy. It does not surely alter the matter much to say, that in that will there is energy. The will is the efficient: does it affect the matter much to say that INTELLECT. 73 t/i the will there is efficiency ? The writers already quoted with others that might be referred to, although they might be i r,. !u^'"^ ^^'^""'^ ^" ^" ''^^"^^•^ causes,-although they held that even these were but phenomena to be accounted tor, were themselves effects, and not causes: that the laws of the universe were but laws, and that the efficient eluded our detection in every instance, nor could we hope to discover if they did not for the most part deny efficiency in God: but rather It was to lead the more surely to God, as operating in alJ, that they announced such views ; while there is in their statements something very far from the views of Hume and Brown. Not to be able to detect the efficient is very different from saying that there is no efficient, and we doubt if any- thing more was meant by these writers. Take even the lan- guage of Barrow:-" There can be no such connexion of an external efficient cause with its effect, through which, strictly speakm^ the effect is necessarily supposed by the supposition ot the efficient cause, or any determinate cause by the supposi- tion of the effect." This does not deny efficiency in the sup- posed cause, bu^ merely that the efficiency is such that we are able to predict the effect from the cause, or to determine, before experience, the causo from the effect. It is only, in oth^^r words, to assert our ignorance of c^cze« y, and of the pro- totypes in the Divine mind, which arranged and appointed all the efficiencies in the universe. Man knows no. more than experience teaches him, or those general principles necessary for his conduct and guidance in life, infofm hin' of, or enable him to anticipate. Before we could predict an effect from its cause, or tell a cause from its effect, prior to experience, we must have been partakers in the counsels of the Creator, when he adopted the present arrangement in nature. That is not asserting much, and far less is it asserting that there is no efficiency in the causes that we see continually operating around us. Bishop Butler's assertion must obviously be understood in the same sense. W!iat are causes, are to us but effects, for they themselves have to be accounted for: we cannot sec what is efficient in them, and it ])y no means takes ... J^. '~^^J,C:'M"--f!^i'mVM'-%'i;.i.,^., J. m. 74 INTELLECT. ^ 1 t PI efficiency from them, that they have been produced, or called into operation, by other efficients. Undoubtedly, it was a wrong method of philosophi^ing, and must have led to injurious results, to make the principle of efficiency itself the object of investigation, mstead of the circumstances in which that prin- aple operated. In the law of gravitation, for example we may stete the law upon a well-observed induction: we state the circumstances in wliich that law takes effect, viz., when we have two bodies, the one greater the other less, in which case the greater attracts the lesser, if not held by other affinities or attractions ; or m any combination or analysis, when we give the circumstances in which the combination or analysis takes place. This is all that we have to do : to attempt to catch the subtle law Itself, or to detect the efficiency, would be to waste time, and either put us on a wrong track of experiment or observation, or occupy us in altogether fruitless efforts This must accordingly be adverse to science, and till Bacon gave forth the great truth which revolutionized science ■-« Homo natar^ minister et interpres, tantum facit et intelligit quantum de nature ordine re vel mente observaverit ; nee amplius scit aut potest, scientific mvest.gation was for the most part directed to the discovery of occult qualities-hidden powers-instead of observing the circumstances in which these powers operated the only proper subject of investigation. Are we to denv powers, or efficiencies, however, in these circumstances, merely because we cannot detect them, and because we must limit our mqmries to the circumstonces themselves in which they operate ? This was not what Bacon meant ; nor do we believe It is what Butler raeant, or Barrow, in the respective state- ments quoted by Dugald Stewart, in what Lord Brougham calls a valuable and learned note." But whether the opinion could fairly be attributable to them or not, at all events they would never have proceeded the length of Hume and Brown and denied energy or efficiency in the Divine Beinc it C quite possible to allow, and to contend for, the ublence of efficiency in the agencies in nature, and yet hold to its exist- ence m Ixod. This is quite possible, a.^d it mav be done fur INTELLECT. 75 ot EToa'trf "^ the efficiency of the Creator, or calling our attention to it, more devoutly marking its presence even when we would be apt to suppose that a secondary or infeZ agency was all that was at work. It is but a'more plou degree, as it were, of the sentiment that would discoverTd m the powers which he has conferred in creation. To « look from nature up to nature's God," has long been a canonized sentiment, as the act itself was the deligh' and occupation of or the devout feeling implied in it, it is not uncommon to notice the absence of all true efficiency in the phromena of God. Accordingly, Dugald Stewart overlooking, as he must have done the Atheistical tendency of Hume's vif;!!for Z IS he demal of all energy in the Divine will but Atheis calT- what have we left in the place of God, if efficiency is den ed and mere antecedence is predicated ?-overlooking this ten dency Dugald Stewart says, even of Hume's doftr n that It seems to be more favourable to theism, than even the ercrrit": «Pon this subject (the subje'ct of cause and tfrL K T *''' ^''^^ "^^"^^ '^ '^'^> °ot only as iJl ' Y V^' ''"'^°''^ °P^^^*^"g «ffi«i«^t cause in mture, and as the great connecting principle among all the various phenomena which we observe." Scripture tsTf seems to point to this view in the words ah-eady quoted J" in him we hve, and move, and have our being," and in th^ innu- merable passages which refer the operations of nature to him recognise him in the minutest as well as the greatest events' whe^er m creation or providence. « He maketh his ange^ epirits and his ministers a flame of fire:" the clouds are his chariots, and he walks on the wings of the wind : he makes darkness his secret place; his pavilion round about him dark waters, and thick clouds of the sky. Nay, Job rises to the sublime an icipatjon of the very doctrine of these modern days and of the law of gravitation itself: « He hangeth the earth upon nothing, and stretcheth out the north over the empty place. 1 his seems to refer the retention of the earth in her III ¥i 76 INTELLECT. orbit directly to God himself, and there is almost an implied allusion to the law which modern astronomy has discovered as that which holds the planets in their spheres. But how far 18 all this from denying energy to God ; and who will cordially own such a doctrine as makes the Divine will but the first link in a chain of sequence ?* N0TE.-Dr. Eeid thns traces the idea: " It is ver,r probable that the very con- ception or Idea of active power, and of efficient causes, is derived from our volun- tary eftorts in producing effects; and that if we were not conscious of such exertion, we should have no conception at all of ... cause, or of active power, and consequently no conviction of the necessity of a cause of evcrv chan Jwhich wo observe m nature." In reference to this view, Sir William Hamilton in a note to this passage has this interesting statement: "If this were the case our notion of causality would be of an empirical derivation, and without the quality of universality and necessity. This doctrine is also at variance with the account given above, (in a previous part of Dr. Rcid's Essays,) where it is viewed as an original and native principle." Sir William Hamilton adds: "It is true how ever, that the C07uciousn^s of our own efficiency illuminates the dark noiion of causality, founded, as I conceive, in our impotence to conceive the possibility of an absolute commencement, and raises it from the vague and negative into the precise an.l positive notion of power." The impossibility of conceiving of an absolute commencement is, in other words, the impossibility of conceiving of an effect xoaJwutacaxu^e, is just the principle of causality; and this principle we have seen, is awakened contemporaneously with the reference of certain of our internal feelings to externality, or an external cause, or even with the first state of consciousness itself; and we have thus Sir William Hamilton's authority for assigning the ulea of power or causality to the source to which we have already referred it. AVe also remarked, that the idea would as yet be very undefined or rudimentary; and Sir William Hamilton says, "that the canJusness .i Z the mind by sensation. Of applicable to our expenence, and arising from the nature of SiZT *'" ""^^'^^ ^^^^^ '^^ ^ >-' ^^h-h ^h" nals given by experience necessarily assume in the mind as an rsTtir^t^ '-'- ''- '-'-''^^ -^-^' -^ - ^- as weiri'T^r""* "^"'"'^ *^"* ^^ ""'' ^°^«hted to the mind as well as to the materials furnished by sensation, (as by the presence ,n space of a solid body,) for L idea of spTc'^th be tW sC^^ *"f ' '"* '"^ °^^^"-^ rather seems to be that space is nothing but an idea, nothing apart from the x" spaTe l^r T""'r^ '^ *^' "^'^^ "P- -'«- -i«t-g « Thril. I a statement to which we would not object: Thus this phrase, that space is a form belonging to our per- ceptiye power, may be employed to express tha! we l^not ties " .7/.^- """''"'' .^'*^°"* ^^""^ ^^ ^«" ^ P^««i^e facul- add , This phrase, however, is not necessary to the exposition of our doctrines. Whether we call the conception of space a any other term it is somethuu; originally inherent in the mind percewzng and not in the objects perceived." WhewelUhus P am y holds space to be in the mind perceiving indZtlntl ot them IS but as an occasion, and not properiy as a cause. This »B an important truth, one which is being more distinguished INTELLECT. 79 at the present day, though we do not believe it to have been Ttteir 1 ! "T "'" "^ '^"^^ - ^-S tolnrtional m their ph losophy; we alhido particularly to Locke The mode in which Locke traces the ideas shews plainly that he understood the part which the mind itself has in ori^naHnl he .deas. But because the mind is thus active bS^f these Ideas have the ideas no counterpart for which they stand f arc they Ideas merely? is Whe well's representation L St one when he speaks of space being something origina ly fn herent ,„ the mmd perceiving, and not in the obUSed? Is this a con-ect representation ? We do nof fi;.i ^'''^'l^'^'^ he expresses h.msolf a, if carried by the pLt,ge „f th. G r man philcophy, and its outlandish non.cnclaf are/' " We sha 1 persist • says Dr. Chalmers, '■ in regarding the whole oftte in termedmte spaee between o„«elv^ and the planet Uratsl' an object™ reality." Space, time, figure, eal „rl n f r™ of thought merely, or forms of the perceptive power but Z reahfcs a though it is the n,ind which'^iv s rthe wL If them It „ tme, therefore, that our ideas are tCy^ essenf or the material of scienoe itself; but then theL d^rhZ omehmg for which they stand, and are not solely del I 1. of the very essence of the idea that there k somethinr^.b out the mmd of which it is but the idea. iHb a Mn^ 1; .dea he mmd obtains it a. the idea ef somethingTwl to reality. It seems the greatest absurdiiy to resolve all into /cms of thought, er of the understandingf or belongL L 1 perceptive power. At this rate, what is here bclw!en us^j the boundaries of the universe ? The ear of tbeTrona„ne but a clumsy contrivance, when the whole of spacfL „ hin Sf'moZ'rmesrir "" "'"'""■''-'"' «-d '- 01 modern times ? and how comes it that ships have been tra- veling the ocean so long, that from the time of the A^onaut to that of Columbus, and till the present hour, the sea hrbeen the highway fer voyagers and adventurers of every kind and many a noble triumph of nautical skill and pe, Jnal e tpris^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) a 1.0 I.I l^|2£ 12.5 - lii |||2^ 2.0 lULlI- 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 "^ 6" ^ V] <^ 0-1 ^. >>^ /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 Pb ) .^^5% ^^^^ €^. £?- & ^ i ^ 80 INTELLECT. Mii i and danng has been achieved ? There is indeed room for a Cervantes or a Butle:, were such a genius to arise, in this field of metaphysical speculation ; or a new Martinus Scriblerus might exercise his wit to some purpose on the German forms of thought, as he has done so successfully on the subject of per- sonal identity, and other scholastic niceties. The resurrection of Belzoni's mummy ne^d not surprise us so much; and what wonder if he « hobanobbed with Pharaoh," or " Dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat ?" Indeed, tu^ address to the mummy was composed with some such sportive familiarity with the idea of time, not, however as if it was a mere idea, but a reality, disturbing the imagina- tion, puzzling the thought : " And thou hast walked about (how strange a story !) Jn Thebes's streets, three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous. Of which the very ruins are tremendous I * * * * » " fciince first thy form was in this box extended, We hcv- above groiind seen some strange mutations : The Roman Empire has begun and ended. New worlds have risen— we have lost old nations, Aiid countless kings have into dust been humbled. Whilst not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. " Didst tbou not hear the pother o'er thy head. When the great Persian conqueror Canibyscs, March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thund'ring tread, O erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder. When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder?" There is room, therefore, we see, for strange and thick- coming fancies in connexion with this idea, or rather with time itself. The mir.d may sport itself with these, or rather be- wilder itself with strange amazement. But to deny reality to space and time, or any other of our primitive ideas, is certainly a vagary of which not a little use could be made by a Butler INTELLECT. 81 or a Cervantes if it was not rather a subject for the pungent satire of a Swift, or the playful fancy of a Fontenelle " When Bishop Berkeley said, ' ITiero was no matter ' And proved it-'twas no matter what he said- Ihoy say his system 'tis in vain to brtter, Too subtle for the airiest human head ; And yet who can believe it? I would shatter Gladly all matters down to stone or lead, Or adamant, to find the world a spirit, And wear my head, denying that I wear it." The proper application of metaphysics is not to lead u. into such v-agaries which are the fit olject of burlesque but to shew the limits of truth and knowledge. If we aTL t^ ^fer than ,f^ „f ^^^^ ^^ ^^^.^ nJlZle^ 10 oe correct. Truth .s best seen wher. it is di,tinKrisl,ed from taye all the firmer conviction of the reality of space time can ^hiy or power matter and mind, that their StyZ'Z caUed .n queshon, and that I have set mj«=lf to ilTe int^ the mode of reasoning by which their realty has ZZuZ t.onef its history or progress. We confine our u.:.^, in this remark of course, to the simple intellectual development. That can bear no comparison to its subsequent moral and spiritual develop- ment. But all its most important ideas are acouired at the early period— imconscious period, we might call it,\if the mind conld ever be said to be unconscious,)— of its history through which we have traced it. Now, however, it advances rapidly upon Its acquired ideas. It proceeds upon these, upward or onward-combining,, multiplying, modifying-every subsequent Idea being a mode, as Locke phrases it, or a mixed mode of the former. Let us remark, however, again, the part which sensation, and which the mind itself, have respectively in our original and fundamental ideas. The mind's earliest consciousness, as we see, would be one of ser.sation. How do we know this? Not from any report which the mind itself brintrs from that early period, but from the obvious fact that the mind 18 dormant at that early sta, ;, while we can perceive trom the very nature of sensation, that it can at no time 84 INTELLECT. be dormant— except during what physiologists call a state of coma, or entire suspension of the physical as well as mental powers. Sensation is that which connects the mind with the outward world— that which binds us to matter under the present law of our being. It is partly a mental, and partly a physical state or phenomenon : what part is mental, and what pa-.-t is physical, it is impossible to determine. All that we can say and that seems to be ascertained, is, that by the different senses, and by a part of the nervous system, which seems reducible to none of the senses— thai for example, which gives the sensation of pam or of weariness— impressions from external objects are conveyed to the brain, whUe it, ajain, communicates with the mmd, either as more immediately resident there, or as having more immediate communication with that organ. That there must be communication with the brain before there can be sensation, and that the nerves are the medium of communica- tion, is seen from the fact, that if the nerve which communicates with any part of the body is cut, there is no sensation in the part to which the nerve no longer extends ; that when a limb ic amputated, a sensation at the extremity of the remaining part of the limb is often referred to the part which has been amputated, as if the limb was yet entire— a sensation at "the extremity of the shortened fibres is referred to the member which in their perfect state they supplied ;" and that when the bram is in a comatose state, all sensation is suspended men the nerves of any one of the senses are lost, the sense Itself 18 lost. Besides, the substance of the brain and of the nerves is the same. The one would seem to be the gre»t reser- voir, the other the canals or ducts, and the analogy is t. , more complete that there are nerves communicating influence from ♦he brain, vital and motive influeuce, as well as nerves com- municating impressions to it. The physiology of the nervous system discloses to us an amazing instance of contrivance and skill, and may well extort the exclamation of the psalmist;— " I will praise thee ; for I am fearf-uUy and wonderfully made • marvellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right :i., INTELLECT. 85 well." But the ultimate fact is what we have to do with— ^e communication between the brain and the mind. A popular writer on physiology thus beautifully refers to this communication ; while he shews the necessity of such a communication, the necessity of an intellectual principle, to account for phenomena which would otherwise remain unac- counted for. "Look at a wrecked vessel! There is one man there ordering and directing all on board ; the only raraaining boat is lowered ; he is careful to see it filled with the persons crowded about him ; it pushes off, and where is he ? He is there on the deck of that sinking ship ; the boat would not hold all, and he has refused a place in it, and remained to perish rather than sacrifice one life comLiitted to his charge. He knows that death awaits him ; he has been urged to save himself, and y^t he is there ! What is the impulse which prompts him thus to contravene the first great law of animated nature? " Sleep, again, is among our most imperious needs, for the want of it gradually destroys life. There lies a sick man in his bed, senseless, in the last stage of an infectious fever, and there is one watching beside him, looking pale and exhausted, but who sleeps not, stirs not, though her young life is wasting away with fatigue, and exposed to contagion, and she knows it, and has calculated that ^\e same grave will receive both ! What nerve of all that fine machinery has impelled her to this course ? " Look at the astronomer in his observatory ; The night is far advanced, and he is chilled and fatigued, yet he remains with his eye at the telescope— for what ? To carry on a series of observations, which, perhaps, in two generations more, may give as its result the knowledge of some great law of the ma- terial universe ; but he will be in his grave long ere he can expect that it will be ascertained. He sits down to his calcu- lations, and he forgets his meals, sees nothing, hears nothing, till his problem is solved ! No sense prompts him to this sacrifice of rest and oomfort. But do we call those pereons insane ? No ! we honour them as the excellent of the earth ■ 86 INTELLECT. admire their lives, and wish that, when the oc. osion comes, we may have courage so to die. "I know but of one solution of the difficulty," continues this writer ; there must be some element in man which we have m t yet teken account of; some untiring, undying energy which eludes mdeed, the fingers and the microscope of the anatomist, but which exercises a despotic sway over the animal mechanism and takes possession of it for its own use, to the point of ex- hausting and finally destroying it. Nor is it any objection to this view, that there maybe instances either of congenital idiocy or subsequent injury to the brain, where this power is less manifested ; for we are not to judge of the peculiar character- istics of a species from the anomalous exceptions. The power which overmasters and despises sense, is yet obliged to convey Its mandates through bodily organs j take these from it, either wholly or m part, and it can no longer manifest its existence m the same way as when these organs were perfect The paralytic man would move his arm or would express his wishes It his arm or his tongue would obey him ; and his frequent impatience at their incapacity sufficiently shews that the riding will and the servant faculties are of a different and distinct nature; nay, it has been observed that even the insane are at times conscious of, and lament a state of brain, which no longer enables the irdvidual to act rationally. This could not occur were the brain and nerves, as acted upon by external stimuli the only spring of man's wiU, for then ihe altered structure would invariably produce a satisfied acquiescence in its results " That element, that overmastering power, is mind It ope- rates, or as the writer we have quoted expresses it, conveys its mandates through bodily organs, but it is a principle which is altogether different from these ; and it has a domain of its own into which the senses do not intrude. The eye of the astrono- mer takes m the sphere of the planetary heavens, but ivhen he has made his observations, his calculations are a mental process in which he retires from the region of sense altogether It is not an overmastering will merely that shews the superiority of that prmciple which takes the senses under its own control INTELLECT. 87 and " exercises a despotic sway" over the body, so as to direct it to its own purposes, and even cast it away when some end is to be accomplished : it is the purely intellectual act also that we can discern to be altogether distinct from any combination of physical phenomena. Tho reigning and triumphant will is indeed nobler than even the intellect in its highest exercises, when that will is obeying the impulse of some lofty passion or emotion : it is sublime sometimes in its mastery when it is under the influence even of misdirected passion ; but in the operations 01 pure intellect especially, there is something which at once distinguishes it from all material or physical agencies or ope- rations. Sensation, however, still is the first fact or law of mind to be observed. It is the groundwork, so to speak, of mind — it is the awakener of mind, and furnishes many of those intimations or materials from which, as 'e have seen, our most important elementary ideas are obtained. The mysterious connexion between mind and matter must for ever remain uaexplained in our present state of being. That there are these two distinct spheres of operation, and subjects of phenomena, we cannot doubt, as we cannot doubt the infor- mations of that consciousness of which we feel ourselves the subjects. Our consciousness informs us of two distinct classes of feelings or states, the one of which we at once refer to one source, the other to another. Even the Germans recognise our " sense perceptions," whatever afterwards they make of these. With respect to Kant, for example, M.( oil, in his History of Philosophy, says, " the capacity of our being affected by the objects of sense, just as is the case in Locke's philosophy, he never questioned, but considered it as a thing self-evident that the matter of our notions must be furnished from this source, inasmuch as our other and higher faculties are simply formal, or regulative, and therefore not adapted to supply the material for any conception whatever." " What is immediately true to us," again, says Morell, in giving an account of Fichte's system, " are our sensations and perceptions ; it is our reason which supposes an external world in order to account for them." " All 88 INTKLLECT. we are immediately conscious of, argues Fichte, are the states and processes of our own thinking self Our sensations, per- ceptions, judgments, impressions, ideas, or by whatever nanie they are designated, these form the material of all the know- ledge which .8 immediately given to us." I need not say that in the British school of metaphysics sensation has its proper place assigned it among the phenomena of mind. The ques- tion with us now is, When does sensation cease to be sensation and at /hat point does a purely mental state commence ? It 18 of the utmost importance to mark the distinction between sensation and a purely mental state. However important the distinction between mind and body, although we live in a mixed state of being, and the world which is the sphere of our activities is a mass of matter,-although we are conversant every day with material objects and material interests we ply material avocations, follow pursuits which terminate on matter and employ it constantly in their prosecution,~although the universe of which our globe is a part presents material pheno- moLa for our contemplation and solution, and in these we are earned away into the loftiest speculations, and problems for which only the faculties of a Newton were adequate, we must never but remember that mind is also a part of our compound nature, that we are mental aa well as corporeal beings, and that ramd IS by far the grandest part of our being. What is the state of incorporeal beings we cannot tell, but we are corporeal being8,-a fact, however, which does not in the least degree de- tract from the importance of mind. The great tendency is to forget mind amid the claims of matter-to allow to the latter the importance which should bo assigned to the former ^hig IS done every day in the pursuits of life. Not only religion- not only the science of morals, but the science of mind itself -or just the fact that we are mental as well as corporeal beings renders the too exclusive engrossment with material concerns and objects a great practical solecism, if it is nothing worse Ihe degree, too, to which the mechanical sciences are cultivated* to the utter forgetfulness of mental science, indicates the strong tendency to forget mind altogether, and to attend solely to what INTELLECT. 89 Will develop and promote our physical state merely-what will carry forward man's physical wellbeing or happineL. We have heard a distingmshed man of the present day ascribe to the same source most of the infidelity and even athoism that pre- vails in the age in which we live. Materialism is the proper spawn of too great an engrossment in mere matter, whether it be in the too exclusive devotion to the b isiness and pursuits of life, or too entire an attention to the physical and mechanical sciences. The tide is undoubtedly turning ; the spiritual part of man is receiving more attention ; mental and moral science 18 more cultivated; more interest is awakened in all that con- cerns man as a spiritual and as an intellectual being: subjects of a moral, pohticul, and literary character claim a large share now of the public and popular regard. Literature appeals entire y to the mental part of om- nature, we mean a legiti- mate literature, not the offensive productions of a prurient and licentious press, which, in the shape of wild and impure fictions are as greedily sought after as they are abundantly supplied' lae pohtical and social condition, too, is concerned with some- thing more than physical or temporal comfort : out of the chaos of social evils seems to be ..rising a proper regard to man's spiritual and eternal wants, the psyche from the slough of the chrysalis The political economist is beginning to see that the mmd and the soul must be caied for, and the education not only for time but for eternity secured. Almost every social improvement has an eye to man's spiritual wants. The names of ages gone by that are most appealed to are the great refor- mers of their times, or those who stood in the breach when civil and religious liberty were invaded. Cromwell has more honour done to him than a thousand kings. Luther is a nobler figure m history than the Imperial Charles. Napoleon's career 18 remembered chiefly in connexion with the brilUant qualities of mina that were exhibited in it, while its bad aim and selfish tendency are as freely condemned. What was generous and great however, in th soul of Napoleon is the captivating spell which exercises such an influence over us, the lustre which al- most throws into the shade, or blinds us to, his worse qualities 90 INTELLECT. Literature is teeming with rich and choice productions, and a new epoch seeroi to be promised in the writings of a Baillie and a Yendys. TheL>e productions are the true and genuine fruit of an age of greater intellectual craving and loftier mark than almost any that preceded it ; and in them not only the intellectual but the spiritual takes a high place. We are not forgetting the age that has gone before— the profound phi- losophy of Wordsworth, or the genuine soul of Campbell, or the prodigious mind, if we may so speak, of Byron,— a mJnd in rebellion against all law but that of its own great and spiritual demands, with which, however, it was continually clashing from its revolt against all that was consistent with these demands. Keats and Shelley were sensuous, but it was a spiritual sensuous- ness ; and Coleridge may almost be said to have been the great metaphysician of his age. But there is a greater intellectual and spiritual yearning in this age, and we take Baillie's Festus as its type. Mental philosophy must strike in with this hopeful cha- racteristic. It must seek, if it can, to help it on, and to guide it. The productions of the pulpit must meet the tendency. The tone struck must not be lowered in the teachings from the sacred rostrum ; and it is interesting to think that the more spiritual the ministrations of the pulpit are, they will the more meet both the intellectual and the spiritual wants of the age. Spiritual truth will always be found in advance of intellectual, or it will embrace it. Literary beauties, too, will always be found at least not far off from genuine spirituality, as flowers grow spontaneously in paradise. Let us be assured of even the uncultivated mind uttering true spiritual truths, and we are certain it will compel the most cultivated to listen and draw forth the homage of the highest intellect. There was nothing which affected Byron more, as he himself assures us, than the knowledge as conveyed to him through a letter advising him of the circumstance, that a pious female made his conversion the subject of daily prayer. The beauty as well as the touch- ing nature of the incident seems to have struck the poet. True spirituality is, in fact, the highest beauty, as '' the Christian," a poet himself has said, " is the highest style of man." INTELLECT. 91 The more that wo make the spiritual part of our l)eing the subject of our thoughts, that wo trace its phenomena, that we tamihanze ourselves with its arcana and laws, the more shall we see to aamiro aud wonder at in our mental constitution, and the finer adaptation shall we discover hetween all the laws of mmd and that economy in which we are placed, as well as that material arena on which we are situated. Is it not inter- estmg already to have seen the mode in which oi:r fundamental Ideas are developed-those ideas which are the under layer, as It were, or substratum of all our mental furniture ? What a marvellous arrangement or provision is it, and how wonderful the product it,«.elf ! It is hardly possible to say, whether the way m which the ideas are acquired, or the ideas themselves, should be regarded as the more wonderful. And the more will our admiration gather as we look at mind farther. The sen- sational tendency, too, oi the tendency to materialize the mind will be the more guarded against or repudiated. A material- tskc tendency is by no means to be treated as one not possible and far less probable : it is one to be guarded against, and by every means shunned. Able thinkers have yielded to it : it is too prevalent at the present day. What could have produced the " Vestiges of Creation," but a tendency so much to be avoided.^ and what could have rendersd that work so popular, but the same tendency which it met in the public mind ? It IS a plaubible theory that mind is the result of an organization so hue as wo find that of our constitution to be. The very intricacy and delicacy of the arrangement, and closely connected as It actually is with our mental phenomena, give a colouring to the theory. Why this expenditure of contrivance, this nicety ot skill, this delicacy of provision and arrangement ? Those slender filaments of nerves were surely intended for some men- tal resnlt, or a result such as we perceive mind to be. It is a worthy result of such a contrivance. As the fine machine pro- duces a filament of thread so delicate that it is hardly perceiv- able by the eye, so may mind be cast off from such an organic combination at once so intricate and so simple. The theory saves the necessity of supposing anything different from that 92 INTELLECT, matter of which we are composed. It is the easiest way to settle the question about mind. We then get rid of the ap- parent inconsistency of placing a spiritual suhptance in a mate- rial, and it is so like the process by which other results are wrought out : it is like the product of a machine— like the fine essence distilled from tha grossest matter— like the blossom of a flower, or its spirit fragrance— or like the marveUous results of chemical combination : all these appear something like ana- logies ; and why then may not mind be resolved into a result of organic arrangement ? So the materialists might argue. What is the answer to this mode of reasoning ? An appeal to our own consciousness. We have in ourselves the answer. Mind cannot be an organic remit. True, sensation is tartly material, and the difficulty of deciding where the material part of the process or phenomenon stops, and the mental part be- gins, may be urged in favour of materialism ; but sensation is not all the phenomena of mind, and while we confess a diffi- culty, we still mark the total difference between a material and a mental product. Mind, we repeat, cannot be an organic result. Kespiration IS an organic result: the circulation of the blood is an organic result : the motion of our bodies is partly the result of muscu- lar contractility, organic combination and action, and of mental volition :— is mind at all like any of these ? Is it not different from them, « toto coelo ?" Oi^r inqmry is. When does sensation cease to be material, and become mental ? We have already stated that this cannot be determined by us— that we are left in utter ignorance here— that the matter is one not even within the sphere or scope of our investigation. But we can mark when sensation ceases to be sensation and becomes ttiteUec- Hon; in other words, when we have nothing of matter in our mental states, but all is purely intellectual : we should have said our states of consciousness, for to speak of mental states, is already taking mind for granted. It is not too much, surely, to say, that we can mark a mental state as distinct from one of sensatioi). Is it too much to affirm that we mark a total INTELLECT. 93 disparity between a sensation and an idea — that we can at once discern the difference ? Does not the simplest idea testify to its purely mental or spiritual origin ? Is not our very first idea — that of seZ/"— separate from even the consciousness which begets it ? Then comes the idea of not-self, or externality ; then that of matter ; then that of mind — the latter involved or wrapt up in the former ; then that of substance ; then we acquire those of space, time, power : these again take varied modifications, they become the subjects of science : by them we solve problems which solve the motions of the planets, which give to us their distances, establish the grand pervading law of th3 universe, and are adding discovery to discovery, so that the very depths of space, and the very secrets of crea- tion are revealed, or are revealing themselves to us. An organic result is one and the same in all circumstances; it varies not : but here is a principle which sees no limit to its wide and extending progress or advance— which is not itself a mere law, but which is conversant about law, which is in- telligent of it, which reveals it, and can even unfold its own processes or laws — is cognizant of itself: this surely is no organic result. Then if we go into the region of imagination, if we mark the subtle processes of that faculty, if we observe its potent sway— how it etherealizes or s^ii itualizes matter itself, clothes it in its own beauty, invests it in its own fair hues, scatters around its thousand spells, gives animation and meaning to every object by which we are surrounded, and to every sound that comes to us, to the lightest whispers of the breeze, and to the stillest rustling of the summer or the autumn foliage; which hears a voice in the gurgling brook, that comes from depths yet unfathomed by the mind itself, and listens in con- verse with the ocean as it murmurs unceasingly, and, with Wordsworth, hears the sound of another ocean " rolling ever- more," when " our souls have sight of that immortal sea which brought us hither :" who will say that all this is the result of mere organization ? Who would be a materialist who has ever felt the visitations of that spirit which comes to us when ^4 INTELLECT, h^ ■A, nature is still which woos us in the moods and aspects of creation, who has felt— ^ " A presence that disturbs him with the joy of elevated thoughts," M^ho has cultivated and cherished that presence, and is indeed hardly ever unattended by it, so that it meets him in every patliway where the influences of nature are around him ? But mind IS seen in the moral part of our constitution, in its spiritual longings, and in its desire after immortality What have these to do ^.ith matter? They spurn it, th^" trample upon It they escape from it, they anticipate an existence when matter itself may be annihilated. There is in the voice of con science-in the eternal distinctions of good and evil in the practical admiration of the right and hatred of the 'wrong- what effectually silences, and must ever silence materialism- while the question of immortality, the « to be or not to be" of the poet, or his moody but meditative soliloquist, surmounts and triumphs over the very ghastliness of the grave It 18 a vast importance which is attached to mind when it is spoken of as « the soul" in Scripture. How emphatic the e words Jesus : « What shall it profit a man, if he shall gat the whole world and lose Ms soul ; or what shall a man give in exchange for his souU" What a price is weighed with it when Christ himself gave his life a ransom for it I Scripture takes the spirit of man out of the category of mere mind and gives It a place with the angels and with God himself. S n^ ar that even the Greeks and Latins seem to have rocogS Vuncii^lc~cf>prj, vov,, dvfic-mens, animus. We need not remark hat e.,o, and animus are the vital principle, the sub stance o the spirit in which the faculties reside, and that VpT. cTr T'/t" P^^"' *° '''' ^^^•^^*'-' -^1 seem totnd : stiU held that the bo,.1 was a dislinct principfe, comnoBed of much ft„„ particle, than the body in which it ,;aidrd'^ They INTELLECT. 95 were the materialists of ancient times. It i« in Scrinture ckefly that the dignity of the soul is recognised. The slme of redemption undoubtedly gives it a value which nothing e"e could assign it in our estimation. ^ IX. Philosophers have been classified according as they leaned to a sensational or an idealistic tendency. MLriai a" th: Ue2r7 "^"'^ •;*'' Transcendentalists are the extreme the first m modern times who traced all our knowledge and consequently all our ideas, to the senses, the objerof the revt frf?T-?:f ^7 ^'^^ ^^^"'*^^ ^'^^^^^ This was reviving he Aristotelian doctrine of intelligible species with less of refinement in the images or species present to the mTnd Gassendis admiration of the physical doctrines of Epicurus' according to Dugald Stewart, « predisposed him to g vean easier reception than he might otherwise have done to h^ opinions in metaphysics and in ethics." His opposition to Descartes seems to have had something to do, likewise, with his extreme opinions. j wim OoulT ''' ^"^^ ^'T *''^"^' "''^''' ''S' sum," which, as Cousin has most conclusively demonstrated, was nothing more than a recognition of the primary consciousness of the mind IS the true starting-point of all philosophy. Descartes, there- ore, so far recognised the independence and immateriality of he mmd aa to make his thmking the very ground of his belief m his own existence. His famous doctrine of innate Ideas, too hoTvever erroneous, was yet a recognition of another source of some of our ideas than the senses. Descartes' words in reference to the mind, or himself as a thinking being or substance, are very remarkable : « Non sum com! pages illamembrorum qua) corpus humanum appellatur I non sum tenuis aliquis aer istis membris infusus ; non ventus, non Ignis, non vapor, non habitus-Quid igitur sum ? res cogitans • 96 INTELLECT. quid est hoc ? nempe dubitans, intelligens, affirmans, negaus, volens, nolens." Descartes and Gassendi became the founders of separate schools of philosophy, and the modem distinction between sensationalists and idealists loas formerly that hetiveen Gaa- sendists and Cartesians. Most of the French metaphycicians have followed Gassendi, and Locke has been claimed by them as favouring the same views. This could only be from the circumstance of sensation being with him one of the sources of our ideas, and from the loose mode in which he expresses him- self; though his making "reflection" the other source of our ideas, and a fair interpretation of his language on the subject of sensation and our simple ideas, should protect him against any allegation or charge of sympathy with the school of*' Gas- sendi or Gondii lac. Locke meant sensation to be one of the sources of our ideas in no other sense than as the occasion on which they were originated. He traces our simple ideas to sensation, but it is to be remarked that they are recognised as id£as, so that they are traceable to sensation no farther than as the occasion of their arising. It is common enough to speak of our getting cert un ideas through the senses, when nothing more is meant than that but for the part which the senses per- form in our complex constitution, we would have no such ideas • the ideas, however, belong to the mind, however the senses present the material for them, or the occasion of them. The idea takes place in the mind upon the presence of certain sen- sations—but how takes place ?—in virtue obviously of a law of mind itself, or as a matter solely of mind. Did Locke recog- nise this part which the mind has in the origination of our ideas ? There can be no doubt he did ; and it is this which separates him from the school of Gassendi and Condillac. This is precisely the point of divergence betiveen the sensation- alists^ and idealists, bettoeen those who refer the whole phenomena of mind to sensation, and those who recognise an independent and intrinsic power in mind, but for which even the part whidi sensation has in our ideas would be to no purpose, and we would never get beyond sensation itself. It may well seem <.| INTELLECT. 97 idea, and resolve every facu ty l „" y .Jtr™ f °" butanewphaseofsensaliou This'dMrt ]' ""md, mto quenaydidOondillao. Ihe for^ laid f^f,, * ' '> T*"'- appear plainty lo derive it, 7lTZml °"'^8a although voudenvths m= ■ ,^ ™ ""^ "™«»; nnd oppoufnt ZXvQ^^'rS 3",- -"-S .0 hi. i- =e„»u;; yet ^•sJliu.':^rsX^2irJT'' Since our knowledo-p k «n „u; ^ 1 , "^^^''^^^^ss, to be true, ino„™ion from th?" tt^mTSilf ""'."f ^" '"""^ - >mdergoe. various mfdiLZ^* L'T:;': ff '"^™"''' eition, division amrlifinnfinr, 7 T a^^alogy, compo- proce ses wTich itl If ' ^^^nuation, and other siinL f ^^"""^"j wnicn It IS unnecessary to enumprflfp " n^ a-u . mode of stating the same truth or docSe "!« ^c^ f' are nothing more fli«n /^^ ^ uocinnc v is,— " Our ideas fiPPm« ♦. vT ^ , tramformed sensations." The vIpu.- »ga.n, was the same sensation somewhaT 21,1 ""r' matter and substance; these were uShI /, ' '^ """' only in the sense of LiZ, I . ' ^ "'">' «'« "eas Plain thlf J 1 , , ° ''•""'/"^ai swaf/ras. But it is ht;:t eaja oVrir'r'""" "^^ '■^ » »™>«°" « the seusatit: w "jS^ls r^ rdtolT*'' ^'""' a sensation * Substenop il • -^ ' ^*' ^^ ^"^ sense, is mat.r, a spfeies'rirLr 1 frrXT°^"T' "^ but an idea !nd •/ '''''*^^°- ^^^^^ ^« '^<^t ^ sensation tinct?r:'n^^;runi4^ I^ri^^eir^.r'l'^^d "^^^^^^'^^ ^«- moving in space.) If time is a tranir ' .^ ^^^ °''"P^'^"^' °^ the result of a success Z of 1*^7^"^^.^^ «^°s^«on, it is so as i-owas:i:^^.XrrdTsis'rr:,t7i?i' * See Note B. 98 INTELLECT. as leaning to such a theory that he has been censured bv r recent writer on the history of philosopliy, while it has been loo much the fashion, without a just and candid interpretation of his whole system, and from a minute criticism of certain por- tions, and separate unguarded statements, of his famous Essay to denounce him as inconsistent with himself, and holdin- views altogether empirical, and at variance with any intuitive or independent power of the mind. Locke wrote at a time when It was not possible thai those guarded modes of state- ment, now 80 necessary, could be deemed rcqul'lio It is a legitimate and a valuable result of philosophical inquiry to be more precise and accurate in the terms employed, and in the modes of statement. Successive theories impose this precision upon phi osophical writers, and the mistakes fallen into and errors either to be avoided or condemned, make it the moro requisite ^ocke, besides, seems to have written as he would - have spoken, without much care as to his phraseology or the ai-rangement either of Jiis subjects or his ideas. He employed terms in a loose manner without looking to the effect of them and although one statement often thus appeared to stand in contradiction to another, or to be at variance with another In maintaining the theory, for example, that all our ideas come either from sensation or reflection, the former being the source of our simple, and the latter of our complex ideas, he never latended to deny the acthity of the mind by which such ideas as those of space, time, power, and even substance and solidity are acquired ; this activity was taken for granted, and mcta!. physical writing, if we may bo allowed to say so, had not arrived at that stage ivhm mch activity loas needing to he pointed out, or to he particularized Locke's account of the Idea of space is, perhaps, the best that has ever been given while we have seen that he is equally correct as regards that of time, so much so, that Cousin accords to him the merit of having been the first to refer this idea to the succession in our mternal states,-" le monde de la conscience." If ho is not so accurate xn tracing the occasion of the idea of power, or caus- ality, still he refers it to i\io p^-inciple of causality in the mind INTELLKCT. qq i« haa .0 ofton observed to ha™ b , °h'„t t^''^ I '""'■ "'"'' mine! cornea by the idea 071™ •' ft ^.T'^t'*'''''' *^ Locke that the principle is liS bv Ti , u^™ '""" "«»"»* ha, been freqnen'tlylr^J „ etst U isT:"" '"T "',^' and one that ™rmnts a nniver^,! LTri,, P"»f •P''' «"«. the future, and therefore ^.^iT-ZTZeT^Z ^ ::::tL'trrpe::2rtr''?"'"^^"^^'^-^ the first Stat-. J»Tf ^' ''"^ ^^ ^® «^^» either upon injrs hithtfl • ? '''*^' P'''^^^"^ sensations, or feel- spontaneity But jZt """"*" »"" »«''"'y »' besides senLi,;nvit,^r°*°'"^,\*''"°'" ""-"^ <" '^^^ act .'If it be'S'e;:^;^^?;;- rc^.'^.'-^^er'^'^^r.'-' ;n .he pr thr,:nrhrco^i:x;i:7;--'>- that ideas in iha iir.^„,„* j- '^'^^ *^ ''■"7 ^n, 1 conceive which is sU,*Lp^tron°orlr 'Z''-^'''' ='"»«""' the body, as preduIT:" IceptZ Zt " T' ''"' "^ It is about these impressSLCZ mderetanding, objects, that the mZdZZTf^ T" °™™ l"^ »°'™<1 tions a we X"reenZ £ k '""^'"^ '"' '" ™* "P""^ ing, &c. P™"?""". remembering, consideration, reLu- " In time, the mind comes to reflect imnn ;». . about the ideas get by sensation „nf 7 i " «P«-«tions, aneweetofideS whill !•»»•/ 'J*''*)' ""■•es itself with the impressions thara«m.r "^ "^ ""'^"™- ^hese are that a,^ e.*„W to Tmtd Zt^ "" °""™"^ "''J^"'^ «^% from ,^„ ;1S : ^ ^^^ —OS. ^o. Thus the «.;t:pi?^:-„-sv^^^^^^ \f 100 iNTKLLECT. fitted to receive the impressions niude on it, either through the senses, by outward objects, or by its own operations when it reflects on them. ... All those sublime thoughts whicli tower above the clouds, and reach as high as heaven itself, take their rise and footing here : in all that good extent wherein the mind wanders, in those remote speculations it may seem to be elevated with, it stirs n .. one jot beyond those ideas which sense or reflection have ofl'ered for its contemplation." Here Locke speaks of poioers intrinsical and proper to the mind it- self; lohile even xoith respect to tJiose ideas ivhich are got hy the senses, or are " conveyed in" as Locke expresses himself, hy the senses, he calls them ideas of the understanding. " I conceive," he says, " that ideas in the understanding are coeval with sen- sation ;" therefore, sensation was not the cause of them, pro- perly speaking, but the occasion of them : they belong to the understanding, although they arise coeval with certain sensa- tions. Locke also speaks of " a power which the mind is able to exert within itself, witliout the aid of any extrinsic object or any foreign suggestion." Sensation and reflection is Locke's antithesis, and in the two terms of it we have the two sources of all our ideas. But mind is in operation as soon as we gel an idea. An idea is exclusively a mental product: there is no lo7iger anything of sensation in it. Gassendi and Condillnc, on the contrary, insist upon every idea being but a modified or a transformed sensation. Locke had nothing in common with such a philosophy. Condillac and his followers had no right to claim him. They have all the merit of the sensational philosophy. It peculiarly belongs to the French school of metaphysics from the time of Condillac ; although Gassendi was the first who propounded the theory. Malebranche, who flourished between the time of Giissendi and that of Condillac, held the doctrine, that our ideas are immediately suggested by the Divine Being, as he is the only true cause of everytl ing that either exists or happens. God is the immediate inspirer of every thought, as he is the immediate cause of ev^ery event; 4iay, according to Malebranche, our minds themselvis exist in God as matter in space. It was his jiiety that led him to ado|>t INTELLECT. 101 he c„o„,y by » coup de nu.in, but it wa» at the rlk of li osophy „„,1 everything el8e: common ,en«e pemhedfn tt hne of approach or mo,le of a«ult, Co„,gu,»ed and unmitigated materialism. Mind ™ lout Ihomme. Phye,ology became the grand study and „hi losopher, were found expending the greaL effoZf oldt Zu fTsIT °° r'' ""-^ *"' »" ™ ""' 'he acti n and Z, ! r ""'™- *'™'' '"'""''le information no doubt was h™ acquired in the department for which Fmnc^ tl™ ZZ t" ''"""'T) "^■' *™'°8-l science Bn" d ubZv ,' 7'"r ""^ 'f """" ™''>'"'le truth, and un- Kerelf L' !;".'T'':™ °- """ f*™' oontribui;! to the lut on What were Mirabeau's dying words in the presence of that very Caban,s who had taught that the nerves were all said ZlLZ ^ I . ^''°'''" P"" ' " I »l>all die to-day " saidMuabeau on his deathbed to Oabanis • "all that c.™L s"e7,:^:r;o *° ";*^ """'^-^^'^ '- ^-f--- "° ™- "net selt with flowers, to surround one's-sclf with mnsin fKof may sink quietly into everlasting deep' ThTers in hi« H .'"' vat,one. Cabanis recanted doctrines which he saw ;„ tL n"X: td Trf.' '° ""^ "■"'■S'^' *atdea.h «s eteiral sleep, and if he had contributed to such a state of 102 INTELLECT. I ] sentiment, he hastened to repair his error, and to assert the everlasting distinctions of virtue springing out of the inde- structible principles of mind. X. Iitellection is the word we would be inclined to adopt as expressive of the action of mind as mind, and in antithesis to sensation, which is partly a corporeal and partly a mental function or state. On the presence of certain sensations, we have seen a mental act takes place, and our ideas of externality, of matter, substance, mind, space, time, power, are obtained! These are purely the products of a mental operation, while this is by no means to say that they have not their counterparts for which they stand, or of which they are the ideas. So wonder- ful is the connexion between the external and internal worlds. The objects of our ideas, or their prototypes, are without us— but these ideas are purely mental, or given to us by mind. But for this power of fashioning its ideas, the external world would appeal to us in vain; and %ure, distance, magnitude, everything about which science is conversant, and with which taste and morals have to do, would be a nonentity, at least to us: other fimulties, ether minds, might apprehend them, but to us they would have no existence. It is a marvellous 'con- nexion which exists between the world without and the world within. While all about which the mind is conversant is a kind of creation, even m if it had no independent existence, and the Germans were right in mahing everything phenomenal and subjective, we believe and cannot question that there is that without which is more than phenomenal, and is objective. God has created a material universe ; he has endowed it with certain qualities, or it possesses those properties which are essential to matter: he has placed mind in this material frame- work or universe, as he himself is a Spirit or Mind of infinite perfection,— that created mind must learn those qualities or propoi-ties of the universe in which it exists, and it does so in a manner which is characteristic of itself, by an act or acts purely mental, so that the ideas are its own, while at the same X INTELLKCT. 103 time they have their counterpart without. This independent ate™ b/which «. c^i:':/r;iz:rrd:,s . both as opp„«,d to M„«.tioa a, the iim law or \tote °f tt' mmd, and to any view that would stop short of ~1 the operation o ,„« purely or simpiy, even in the SS of our most rad.mentary ideas. We know that in the a" ou„t of the or,g,n of our ideas, in any intellectual system exo",°t°„ tho« sensafonal ones in which our ideas are'regardeTbi^ m kcd that mmd bears the whole part, and that sensation but acts as a prompter, or as (he occasion of the mind's opemtionV -.s the suggestive stimulant, if we may so speak, nouS approaching to the remotest resemblance to fn idea The and an idea-the one partly a corporeal, the other strictlva meaW product. We vindicate the separate integrity rfmnd te d,st,nct nature, and its independent action. HavTn"„b' tamed its simple ideas, which are the rudiments 5T4 otht .deas, savmg those which belong to taste and to mo a duty- what happens after that ? hut that the mind regards its stonl. .dea, un,kr different modiiications, thus formi^gts conS ideas, or its ideas variously related. i-oaipiex &/'„■' T"' '° •■^present the mind as possessed of certain fa ulties, to account for its ideas, and its varied phcnomta aesciiptiou of different powers, and thus we have-Sensation Memory, Judgment, Perception, Conception, Abstraction Genl' ralization-what Locke calls Composition-Imasination S» the laeulties, and seem to be employed bj Locke for the afore generic term Judgment. Judgment is the faculty whih Pr lorms them into ideas. A name is nothing, if we reuUv imd- ■ Stand what we express by it. But would we call t a ; lot;" or operation by which our simple or elementaiy idr ar^ 104 INTEM,KOT. Obtained by tho name of judgment ? Is it not better to refer all to mind simply, acting spontaneously and independently but in a manner altogether inexplicable, and not to be ac- counted for by any name or names ? In like manner, shall we say our complex ideas are obtained by a faculty which we terni judgment, or comparison, or composition ? For all prac- tical purposes there is no harm in speaking of the faculties of the mind, and of the mind operating according to certain taculties, in the way of discernment, comparison, composition, or, more gonencaliy, judgment. But more philosophically and simply the view properly is, that the mind, first by its own spontaneity and activity, and then according to certain laws obtains Its simple ideas, such as self, externality, matter sub- stance, with their various properties-space, time, power:' then these ideas are modified, and we have the idea of universal space, Eternity, causality under all its phases: we can limit or extend our idea of space ad libitum,~cousideT it as cir- cumscnbed by lines, and thereby derive the properties of figures, and construct the science of geometry-divide time into periods or consider it according to the observed motions of the heavenly bodies-regard the laws of motion and of force, and so obtain the mechanical sciences : and all this is just mind one and indivisible in all its operations, regarding its ideas under those aspects in which they may pre-^ent themselves to it, or may be capable of being considered-it is, in short, intel- lection ovemtmg in various ways, or intellection affected vari- ously by limitmg circumstances, supposed or nctual Three lines, for example, meeting each other, is an arbitrary circum- stance presented to the mind, or supposed by it ; and thus out of space so circumscribed, we obtain the idea of a triangle or a figure possessing three angles : that idea again variously modified gives us the idea of an isosceles, an equilatP^al or a Rcaene triangle. But the arbitrary or modifying circumstpnoe or the line drawn according to a particiUar figure, w >• ■.• ^ in the Idea, and all the properties, of the circle, or square, or parallelogram ; and our ideas of space and of figure may be as various as the directions in which lines can be drawn or the INTKLLECT. jq^ mgnitnde.s by which spnro ,nay be lueasured. Tho propertio« ence of the ,m.ver.e : the universe is the effect God ;« // nay, it was creatln nV T ? ''* '' ^""^ 8t„pene..„s ; analogy, the law of proportion ' *'^^ ^^^ °^ principle ,,, „Hch „„ gc„e.?/lt^ ^.^re^^i^^^^^^^^^ ti.e pnnaple on which all ™.„„,-^ property ^lingteS 106 INTELLECT. iM Then we have the voluntary actions of the mind, such as attention, to which again may be referred what is called the power of abstraction, which is nothing more than the mind applied steadfastly to one of many subjects or ideas or quali- ties, and attending to it apart. Imagination is just the laws of mind above enumerated, with a state peculiar to itself, and which may be called the ideal or imaginative state. Memory is a property of mind by which the past is recalled or repro- duced : it is neither a law nor a principle. There is, lastly, the circumstance or property of association in our ideas. The moral and emotional part of cur nature does not come under our ^resent review, although this may be men- tioned as a separate source of ideas ; for we could have no idea of emotion unless we were capable of emotion, and we could have no idea of duty— of right and wrong— but for the law of right and wrong, or unless we were capable of perceiving this distinction ; while it is the aspects of emotion and of principle which go to the formation of character, and all the variety of disposition. Actions, too, may be variously contem- plated, as characterized by such and such emotions, or exhibit- ing mdi and such moral principles, or violations of principle. It may be seen what a wide range of ideas is thus opened up or given to the niiud. ' We may specify here, too, the idiosyncrasies of the mind— a term for which we are indebted to phrenology— by which is meant some predominating bias or faculty, mental or moral, according to which one mind is distinguished from another. We thus consider the mind possessed of a spontaneous activity and inherent poiver, by which our simple ideas are framed, products of the mind solely, and not indebted to sensation farther than as the prompter or stimulant of mind : that activity still in operation gives us the modifications of our sunple ideas, in which extended operation we see the laws above enumerated, and those principles of the mind— causality, generalization, deduction. We have tlie voluntary actions of mmd, attention, abstraction. We have the state of t- tion, and the properties of memory and association. .' magma- INTELLECT. 107 XI. Memory though mentioned so late among the phenomena which m.nd presents, comes first under our consideratlw^ ^nt-ed it so late because it does not belong tty.f I more general phenomena to which may be referfed many of he men al charactenstics. We have called it a property of min^ hlmind bvTr '"^^ '''"^ ''' ^PonLr^VcLTo'f n. kw« f ^.1 r u ^*"^^ °"' P""^^*^^^ ideas, the modify, ing laws of the mmd, the principles of the mind and even its voluntary actions ; for although voUtion may exe t an infl ence upon memory, so that we may set ourselves to recall any pa event, this is not so mucli a voluntary act of memory Z ml mory influenced by an act of volition.' All ie ZZZ Tl of mind, indeed, are just mind under the influence oftutiT Memory. anfoX?,"' "■"■""'"""J' »■"«'""« »mq«e, or distinct from any other pl.enomenon of the mind. Nor do we call it a faculty of mind irr"' *°" f"^"'"'"^ "^ "f «■= Phtnomtfa will the scat of moral power ; and heuce it i. that what are TwW ■ J, ""^ "^ "> P"''''"'" ™<' °P™«ve as to give to what . nothing more than a succession of deas in the iS the aspect of a faculty. Even what are calW our iud 4 nte are brrt ideas variously combined or related, but when"* ,5 ourselves to compare onr ideas, or invite thei presence i, The r «b.on,a„u connexions, we are said to exert L ^tTj dg mei.t. Ill the same way when we set oureelves to recall a „™f Idea or event, we ore said to exert an act of Imor' Z what t,uly takes place in each of these instancesT T„ ea h jauce we have but ideas arising in the mind aoeorfinTto certam laws or according to a certain characteristic or pZ^rt" of the mmd, under the influence of volition, or „„ „.t „7,.uf 108 INTELLKCT. I IVill is a real act ; in it is recognised the source or spring of action. We have spoken of the spontaneous activity of the mind, that is, the action of mind as mind, and prior to the possibility of a volition. But even this spontaneous activity is to be distinguished from the succession of id. s according to certain laws ; because having obtained an idea, tJiaf rather is the cause of another idea, than the more inner action, if we may so speak, of mind itself. It cannot be doubted that ideas suggest ideas, or that upon the presence of one idea another idea arises ; now, that is different from the internal activity by which our first and primitive ideas are obtained. It is the latter that we call spontaneous activity ; the former is the mind operating according to certain laws. One idea is the cause of another idea ; in the case of our simple ideas, mind is the cause of them. Now, memory is distinct from a mere succession of ideas, and is a. property of mind by which the past is recalled, and not merely an idea suggested by an idea. Dr. Brown adopts a nomenclature for the phenomena of the mind to avoid ascribing to i\\Q mm^ poivers ov facidties, an^ he resolves the phenomena of the mind into states, which he calls the states of simple^ and relative suggestion. He recognises mental laws according to which these states arise ; but he makes the same distinction tliat we have thought it necessary to make between the mind as possessed of powers, and the mind as exhibiting properties or laws of operation. The latter, we think the more correct aspect in whinh to regard the mind. Suggestion is the grand law in Dr. Brown's system ; we have called it generally intellection, or just the operation of mind. Relative suggestion with Dr. Brown is when ideas spring up or arise in the mind not in their simple form, but in certain relations, and these relations arc accounted for by the primary and secondary laws of suggestion. Dr. Brown, therefore, accounts for all the phenomena of mind strictly, by the phenomenon or law of sug- gestion, but that phenomenon or ^aw regulated by other pheno- mena or laws, which are called the laws of association or suggestion. Now, instead of having a law or phenomenon regulated by other laws or phenomena, we would describe the INTELLECT. 109 former by the term intellection, and make the laws which regulate it the laws of intellection ; in other words, we would comider the mind simply under the regulation of certain laws. IJnnkmg, or ideas, may be said to be the distinguishing char- acteristic or effect of mind; but ideas do not arise in the mind but under the operation of certain laws, or thinking goes on according to certain laws. Now, we have distinguished me- mory ftom ideas, or from thinking, and it is to be distinguished from the laws of thinking, or the laws by which our ideas are regulated. We make it a property of mind. We have already said that the will is the only proper ^OM;er of the mind; with It alone can we properly connect the idea o^ power. What tiienis memory ? We say it is that property or characteristic of mind by which the past is recalled. Dr. Brown resolves it into a smiple suggestion, or conception, with a relative feelincr or idea of time ; or that suggestion or conception recognised as belongmg to the past. But in that very recognition lies the peculiarity of memory which Dr. Brown makes no account of at all. We say the peculiarity of memory lies in the recogni- tion of tlie past ; or rather this recognition is the recalling process, and it gives no account of memory to say that it is simple suggestion with a relative feeling of time. What is so peculiar to memory is its recalling the past, and that is not explained by simple suggestion; for that may take place without any reference to the past, an idea being suggested by another idea in the present, according to the law of simple suggestion ; and the feeling or relative idea of time does not expfain tho phenomenon. The question is, why this idea of time ? why this feeling of past time ? why not of future time ? why of time at all ? This brings us to the precise characteristic, or distinction, of memory. It recalls the past, or in virtue of this property of mind the past is recalled. We'call it a property of nnnd ; it is not a faculty ; it is not a law. The past is present, and yet it is not present, it is recalled ; that is a property o) mind. Strange, singular law or property !— the past present ! recalled ! The past revived to tho mind ! How shall we ox- plain this law, or rather, as we have called it, proi)eity ? A 110 INTELLECT. m f past idea, or a past event, revived in the mind : can we go any farther than this in our explanation ? We think Dr. Brown's view not only exceedingly defective, but altogether absurd ; for in the attempt to simplify, it misses the grand characteristic or peculiarity of the phenomenon. Dr. Brown— and we shall be forgiven for so freely criticising so great an authority — would seem to have been misled by what would appear to be a process of memory, but in reality is no more than simple suggestion, or a conception, together with a relative idea of time, when a past event, as nairated in history, or transmitted by any other mearvs, is conceived of by the mind. Here, truly, we have conception with a relative feeling or idea of time. But is this memory ? Are we remembering when we think of the events of past ages ? We remember only what has been within the sphere of our own experience. It is otir own past we recall when we remember. Dr. Brown's idea of memory has regard to the past of events which happened in other times, but not within our own observation or experience. History gives a narration of these events, but we are not remembering when we read history — when the events which it records are passing before the mind. The History of Europe by Alison is histor' to us ; it would have been memory to Napoleon had he lived to peruse it. We remember only what is happened in our own time, and within our own experience ; md in reference to events that have happened in our own time though not within our own experience, we rather remember when they happened, than rememoer the events themselves. Memory, then, is our own past reproduced. It is the events of our own experience — or our own past ideas or feelings— recalled. In all other cases in reference to the past, it is just a conception that we have, with the knowledge that it is the conception of a past event. In the case of memory, it is our minds which give us the event, or feeling, or idea. In the other case, it is to others we are in- debted for the event, or feeling, or idea, and our minds have nothing to do with the process further than conceiving of these. In the one case it i-! the past recalled ; in the other it is the past conceived of ! % INTELLECT. Ill But It 18 memory when the last moment is recalled-when the last Idea :s recalled. The past is ever being reproduced. It IS owing to this that we have any ideas whatever. Did the sensation which gives us any of our most elementaiy ideas tiit away as if it had ne^er been, the instant that it was expe- nenced we would have no such ic'eas, and though the sensation m ght be prolonged, still it would be prolonged in vain, for only the sensation of the present moment would be known It IS by o'lr sensations, or ideas, being retained in the mind as it were, even when they are truly past, that that operation ;f the mmd takes place by which an idea is produced, or new ideas arise. How marvellous the process of the mind ! Memorv is nece^saiy to every discrimination of an idea, and to every pro- cess of discnmmation which is implied in reasoning The past flows into the present, and makes part of our present thoughts l/J^rT* ^rr' '^' '^' ^^^"^^^°* ''^^-^ forming part of the tide with which it mingles. And this double pro cess IS ever going on. To account for a complex idea Dr Brown has recoui^e to what he terms the doctrine of vi'rtual equivalence. The mind is one and indivisible ; there cannot Di. Brown says, be two thoughts or ideas in it at the same time: the complex idea, therefore, is not two ideas-it is a very difficult subject- we know not if it is a satisfactorv explanation, an explanation, viz., of the virtual presence TZl ide s in the mind at the same time. We may take it as th best that can be given. In every complex idea that pheuo menon is presented. But what shall we say of a past idea and a present, and a process by which a new idea re^ut ? And yet, this is what must take place in order to every new idea The point to be attended to is the necessity of memory Tn the thew" :r '''"'- ""'"^^'y ^-^^ "P *1- thread frm the past which IS to mix with the present moment, or the Z 1 'iTrt T""'^ ' '' *'^ ^^^^^ -^ *he 'woof of t mind. It IS the two seen together in the mind that gives us a new produo . And how rapia may be this process ! wlo 1 catch the electricity of the mind ? who can oW^.p .^c ^w'ft ! ( 112 II INTELLECT. shuttle ? who can mark the blending thoughts ? Memory is as reaUy m operation in the recalling of the past moment, as in the recallmg of the past year, or the past twenty ye'ar' And this 18 by far the most important act of memory_if we -tor but for this, mmd would be at a stand, or would be but a series of fleeting sensations: it would never get beyond sen- sation, and the sensation of the present moment mpn J Tr*T. r^°"g«^ ^r ''^Peated that allows of that mental act by which an idea arises. But for a sensation to be prolonged It must be recognised or identified with the sensation of the past moment, or with the sensation of several moments past. It seems improbable that the flitting sensation of a moment should give rise to an idea, or should Laken a mental act The mmd would hardly be roused into activity by a single Sensation, passing away as it arose. But without memory this would be the, phenomenon presented. Every sensation would be singular. Memory gives identity to our sensations, or allows the mind to recognise their identity : a mental act oi- state IS the -esult, and we have traced the progress from the first mental act or state onwards till the whole of onr primitive Idea, are obtained. Memory is that wonderful property of mmd by winch one state of mind is recognised to be the same with a past state of mind, so that tlie past and the present become one, and we have a continuity of feeling owing to which we hve not only in the present moment, but through a succession of time. Why is it that even the feeling of pain is continuous? All that we can be really said to^feell the sensation of the present moment; but in pleasure or pain the feeling is prolonged: the past is multiplied into the present feelings What an important end this must subserve in the constitution of our nature must be at once apparent. No two contmuous feelings would be felt to be such, but for this law we wonnT ""• "^^ "^"'^ ^"^'^ "° -^*--«d identit; : we would ive in moments. The treasured experience of the past would not be. Nothing would be dist nguished no /t INTJOLLECT. 113 even ^our sensations. Coleridge's lines in reference to the " Poor stumller on the rocky const of wo, Tutor'd by pain ouch source of pain to know," would have no application. The first law of our bein--self preservation-would have no existence : for how cou d ;e sett recognised ? Or how could we know the sources of pain when we knew only the pain of the present instant ? Melrvl^ the thread of their continuity, the amber in which they lie the reflex act by which what is past is yet present This a lows a recognition to take place it allows a Ten ll It and where a mental act has been exerted there is knot ledge. Mind is essentially formative: it gives un y cZ sistency, character, to our feelinoN TI.a n. j^n^y, con- becomes .eIf-c„„.c,o'us : the sen wteing" ^Z r,,,-'™"" the depository of sensation,, the posses«>r and dCnw^f knowledge, Snch a law or arrangement it is thatt ZTthe ve,y im^servafon of the sentient, eo„scious, intelhW atent Pam becomes not only a sensation, but a reo«y,„-X„Xn source . and by a law or principle of the mind which is to come under o„r attention, we can predict it in connerion with any c^stanees or con« of evente, or known c™ « eltete a„rSLrV" "' '"" '»»"'«''A intellect::, thTT , 'f'',"'^""' P^P-ess; that experience which is ta^wS;: mat ' » :i Trt^i^ *' -^ """-"" *«' knowledf r ' "«'"''"* Soes to constitute other dutT thf ' M T"'"""' "'•»''' -J'' "1»«1' is our hVht in u 114 INTELLECT. t I wise of every age aro our iiistructorH ; all nations levy wistloin for our peculiar benefit. It is true, that memory extends only to our own past consciousness ; but this does not liinder but thnt the consciousness of otlicrs may be trcasuied for our good. All proverbs owe their origin to this source: tliey aro the gathered wisdom of ages and of peoples. How many obser^'a- tions go to constitute a single apophthegm or wise saying ! The observation has been repeated thousands of times by thousands of individuals : it is some sign of the sky, some index of tho weather, some principle of conduct, some circumstance of character, some mark of providence ; and now it has reached that point when it takes shape : it crystallizes itself in sonie mind : it gathers into consistency, and becomes a proverb for ever. Some happy utterance luider some happy insi>iration may give it form. How many such utterances are never caught up I But others have fallen on more likely ears, or they were such as could not die. All nations and all languages have their proverbs; their wise sayings aro enriched with these pearls of sage observation or experience. What scenes does not memory faithfully portray, and does it not hold within its magic chambers or mysterious recesses I The wizard power can evoke them in a moment, and infancy, youth, manhood, pass before the eye. The past is a picture in which scenery and events live. Who has forgot the sports of his childhood, the spot on which he gamboled, and his first essays at mimic life ? Who cannot recall tho pLymates of earlier years, and the long, long sunny days, with their many incidents, and their protracted pleasures ? I can recollect when a day was like a century, and an afternoon was like half an age, and the sunbeam fell with something of a solemn influence, and I seemed to know not when the hours would conie to a close. Far, far on into the evening our pleasures were protracted, and the earth did not seem to bear a curse, and yet there were whispers of death and rumours of decay, and the heart was often surcharged with a heavy feeling. I remember the long walks, and the more adventurous excursions, and the rambles through the fields, with scenery that spoke to the heart, and INTELLKCT. 115 tliat shull never be elKiced. fonnin.r while if .»,oi . , .. Imagination. I oaa recollect a ran^ T tu ^ ^*:^'': the western horizon, whose ontline, Varied al" ^tX^^^ " Scotland's northern battlement of hills"-- tu,« m the and.cape. The road which had these in vi^w iiua-ination Tl,,-. f . " /'tto>™rds portrayed to the worti/'in'rird: ""*'■■■:"" " "^^^ »^-' I 1, , tender or excitiiit; scenes of which I have ever read are ™tly connected wirt, one ench sn„T ro7ch -stt^^^sr' irorthf: '-r ?-"' ing the sepnichre, with the"'. ":i:[„*:/;rart si t alway, to be re-enacted, often as I read of these elte CW and Mary seen, to stand hefore me „„ that ver.pot T leepmg g,,ards and the earthquake, ».„d the risini lus-th, interw „f « eepnlclire and the watching an.4-a,d thl Z'tlaTplat"^" """•'' '^"'^— " ^-ialiyas:l::i ]o,r „v. J • ' ' ^^ *'^^ place where we are fn X:" ; t' hZlZi ':htic hi -' [Tr "'" "- - to the redeenred wi„ he forgotteT'ot wl,',' rdi::'.?, ^'i;; E lie INTELLECT. would aff'urd pleasure to the lost will Ikj swallowed up in the overwh'jluiing wo. To the redeemed the history of time will present a subject of marvellous contemplation, and will unfold those secrets of Providence and Grace which are so perplexing, while yet they are enveloped in darkness and mystery. All God's ways will meet there and be reconciled. The dark and unknown in their own history will look clear and bright in such a survey. God will be vindicated, and everything will be seen to have fallen out to his glory, and for the best and highest interests of his government. They will be parts of a universal plan, which even eternity will not be able fully to disclose, or utterly to exhaust of interest. The interest will rather gather with the contemplation, and the Divine mind, an immeasurable infinitude, an unfathomable deep, will ever be discovering itself in new and unthought of aspects, develop- ing new and before unheard of and unimagined treasures of wisdom and knowledge. ^ Into such fields of survey will the fields of personal recollec- tion—of every individual's own history— hereafter stretch. Our memories will be part of the survey— the most important part to us— but small indeed compared with the whole. And our histories will be the stand-point, so to speak, to us in the con- templation : our lines of observation will begin there, and circle round the infinitude. What a faculty is that, which, beginning with the recollection of a child's consciousness, will afterwards be connected with an exei-cise so vast and so exalting ! Imagination often blendfc with the operation of memory; and it is owing to this, in part, that the exercise of memory is so pleasing, when that exercise is concerned with scenes and events in our past lives. Imagination throws its own light upon everything which comes in any degree within its sphere. It softens the past, it heightens the future. It is the torch of hope ; it is the mellow star which trembles on the horizon of memory. Shall we say it is imagination, or is it a law of me- mory itself, according to which only the pleasing is recalled, and the disagreeable or indifferent is allowed for the time to sink away ? No doubt, if the very scene could be recalled I INTELLECT. H7 undouUed.,, takes up ,h^ :ZZU^:7^C''"^ Ihe Pleasures of Memory." as well as "Tl^n pj '. Hope," „,.o the .ubjeoe of ^'oetio det^JXtT™™ with respect to both for the exereise of imn,ri„ation T^ r,7« of '""f^-ation in itself is pIc J„>' T^e je "tateZ itself a source of rlplurlif .^.. , i f ^^ ^'''^''^ 'S fact which is „:;^:Sb: ■ z'ticTVV ^ ""'™*° able .0 i™„i„atio« i„ the •^^rittl-Zu''''- delight-miist be essentially pleasurable lIT , *'™ unwilUn, e„ „.,,,„., „„^^ I ,Pi«* tlfa 'isl:™'" the effect ™„st be a pleasurabk 1: iZ^u tt u^r't ■ng to add its charms o. lend its colou™ M? f ""'" work itself, using its power of eteti: a^d rfsZl tl"' the green spots in the past, like palm-^oves ° " ^^ " islanded amid the waste." the'sallicutf: t '"r"', """"^ *« -'«*■' -«■ in its picture, the featu«l Inhf l! ^'"' "' '^ "'" »" "P would produce pain If ? .! ' '"' ""-"""stances that hood, I donrrSwi h b?" , '""" *° ^l""* "''"J' W" ."igh't chau» tTb ; in ,,^ t'"T7'' ""^-"'«'"'>i^. pleasures of the p^ZSi ^T V^ "°"-'%the liko a listed liel.1. ' f Zmo "In -■ " "■'"''- "™"^"'^' ' to recall uio smile ami ail that is \i' I. m 118 INTKLLKCT. j)leiusing in the recollection of a parent, I forget liis frown, and think only of that which gave pleasure in past days, and is capable of yielding the same pleasure though but in retrospect. All the vexations, all the envies, all the disparaging circum- stances that blended in the enjoyments of the festive scene are forgotten, and the festive scene itself, with its delusive lights, and its brilliant company, and its deceitful flatteries, are revivetl. Time, too, has undoubtedly a mellowing influence, a softening eflPect, like distance in the landscape, or age on a building. " As tlic stem prnndciir of a Gothic tower Awes lis legs dueply in its inorning hour, Than whon tho shniles of time Bcrenely full On every broken arch iind ivied wall ; Tho tender iniiiges we love to truce Steal from each year a nielnnclioly grace." Campbell's opening lines to « The Pleasures of Hope " might almost with equal propriety apply to the effect of the past as to that of the future, omitting the circumstance of the bow of promi^^e in the clouds : — *' At summer evo when heaven's aerial bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns tho musing eye, AVhose sunbright snn)niit mingles with the sky V Why do those cliils of Khadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ? 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure line." The sunbright summit of the mountain mingling with the sky, is a picture or image of hope, but the cliffs "of shadowy tint," and the enchantment produced by distance, are as appro- priate to memory as to the influence of hope. Nay, in Hope's pictures memoiy bears a part ; for, "Every form that fancy can repair From dark oblivion glows divinely there." And the bard of memory, addressing memory, says:— " From Thee g.ay Hope her airy colouring draws." Hope is a sort of -c.ieralization from the past, eitlier our own past or tliat of others. It will hardly venture upon pictures INTKLLECT. 119 winch the past does not warrant. The past and thn f„* something hke the hon.on from ^hiJ'^lZr^^':''^^'^ TaZ of tl '^''':^'''ir ^""^^^^^«« ^^ »^«'- conceptions. Th"! rert n W ^"' '''" ^"''^^''^ "P"^" «^^t«"als got from ex- I^ne .ce. Hence the Muses are the daughters of m' Irv 18 very analogous to the creative faculty in poetrv Th Jf ' whether in externa nhttf ^ u '^^''^^'•'^"^ resemblances Human Mind » but w« m, . Philosophy of the t™ i„ addit,„; to ir hXX' "'"" " '"^'^ '^™"' "■■ i!i imKmamimftm W!»n 120 INTELLECT. ' \ t n Memory, to be coraplete, or to perform its functions com- pletely, should easily acquire, securely retain, and readily recall. There is the imprinting of its objects upon the memory, or the storing of them up, or just committing them to the memory, or leaving them under the power of memory. If it be asked, how is this done ? we can only answer, by tlu power of memory. This is a power or pro{)erty of mind of which we can give no account, as is ultimately the case with all its powers or pheno- mena. So it is — is the utmost that can be said. Now, this power of at first receiving its objects, is influenced by various circumstances, which, however, we shall not notice till we have spoken of the other kinds of memory, or features distinguishing it, retentiveness and readiness. For memory to be retentive, is to be tenacious of what it has once received. In the case of a retentive memory, what has been attained is not easily let go, is, on the contrary, long retained. What is committed to the mind is long preserved, perhaps indelibly fixed on the mind's tablets. A day, months, years, do not wear it away. Only the infirmities of old age, or the encroachments and paralysis of disease, may obliterate or enfeeble the impression. A ready memory, again, is when tli' objects of memory are easily recalled, readily arise, and at the bidding or demand of mind itself. Now, it will be apparent, that the laws which regulate this faculty, or this property or characteristic of mind, under one of its aspects, will have much influence with it as respects the rest. The philosophic or scientific mind, for example, which has regard to principles, will much more easily treasure the facts and principles of science, or principles of any kind, than the mind that has little regard to principles, and can see only objects existing separately or in their isolated state ; such a mind does not generalize, does not detect, and can hardly appreciate, principles, and therefore, it might labour in vain to remember a science, or to commit its truths to the memory. But such a mind will, perhaps, be more rapid in the acquisition of separate or isolateil facts which have no philosophic bond or "X" INTELLECT. 121 prmciple of connexion. Surprising instances of memory are exhibited by nnnds of this stamp, which make the philosopher sometimes feel astonished, and almost hide his diminished head. He has no chance with such a mind in the news of the day, or the topics of current discourse, the facts of histor. and the mmut^e particulars which form the gossip of literature; and the talk of the sciences ; so that, even in his own field, with re- ference to those particulars, the philosopher may be beat by the mmd of far more common or ordinary character. But, again these particulars being bound together by no common pii^iple or tie, while they may be easily acquired, may be as easily for- gotten ; and accordingly it is the philosophic memory that is the most retenhve. There are, however, instances of great retentiveness even in the case of memories whose objects Ue isolated, without any common bond. The phUosophic memory again is generally not a ready one. It has regard to principled, and It always takes more time to recall and arrange a prinlle than to state a fact. The philosophic mind, therefore, the more valuable of the two, will often appear at a disadvantage with the mind which deals with facts merely, and not with principles ; for while the philosophic is seeking for the one the unphilosophic or less philosophic, mind, is delivering itself of the other with all readiness and promptitude. It is this often which constitutes the difference in the readiness and facility of extemporaneous speaking. Dr. Chalmers was not good at extemporaneous address. He was often seen fetching at his thoughts, because they lay imbedded in principle ; but when the principle was once got hold of, his words came readily enough while they were instinct with meaning, and pregnant with im' portant and suggestive thought, liurko was not a fluent speaker, because his speeches were big with philosophic i.rin- ciple and, accordingly, are the speeches which alone, of those of all t e brilliant galaxy of the period in which he shone are read for the principles of government they contain' and high truths they announce. They are the only hWits expiied ''""'"'"*' '''"''" *''' ''"*''^' '' '^^'''' '^"« blazed tand 122 INTBLLKCT. if) If I i i ! 4' A remarkable i.mtance of a susceptible or quiek memory is related of Porson the celebrated Greek scholar, who is said to imve been able to commit a whole newspaper to memory driv- ing through the streets of Oxford. Sir Walter Seott a.r.in almost never forgot what he had once read, and hewas a walk- nig library of ballad lore and legendary story. Instar.ces have been known of the whole Bible having been con.mitted to inemory. How prodigious and how ready must be the memory ot the lawyer, to quote precedent after precedent, and date dter date, and to refer the jury or the judge to the very volume, and the very hue of the page, where each is to be found ! The question whether a great juemory and an eidarged or plnlosoph.eju.lgnient are compatible, is already answered • for the cases in which they do not seem to be compatible are only those in winch rith III the"'-';'"" "'" «° "'* " oon.oi„„™e.3-thri:l:!i /—-*-/- that nes8. It i, this identity whioh will form TitT T g~u„d of all our judgment. re.pelg oaCilTd To "•' judgment resnppfi-no- no j u- ^ ourselves, and of God's TheVndStdL Lto°f th^ '"r"'? '" ^^="»'-<' "" »»• ceedupon every indWd°!l°/ •? .^^ ""'' ""^ '^<"«' "»' P™" that idLtity T ,e ;tw il t '■ """ !''' """""^^^^ of all ita past history the 7 L™ TI '*''" '" """ "»°'™' starting into S 7- . '''"'''' ■°™»'y had fo,gotten awakening elll 2't"'' "' l*"^ ""^""S '-»■■■ "r 1". or d^htCrn^h y :ir:*^r.td 'j'"° "r^'r very sentence that is to prooeed fram^h?,r T." '" "" and the happiness that :iirhtln!rknrnrt:r::in*:i„*l"^^' imK". Mh J 32 INTELLECT. xm. We have ccnsidored tluit property of miiul by wliich the past is recalled and retained, in order to those great purposes which the Creator has designed to serve in our mental history and development. It is owing to this characteristic of mind, as we have seen, that any progress is made even from the most elementary state of sensation to one of intellection. Memory is hardly intellection itself ; but without it there would not be intellection. It is intellection when the mind throws out its own ideas over the external world ; obtains ideas from the external world ; these ideas being entirely the result of mind, but still the ideas of what is actually without us, or is not a part of ourselves. There is a universe without us with which we have to become acquainted : mind is placed in that universe, and it must form its own knowledge, gather for itself the ideas, which are not the copies, but the mental counterpart, of what is without, the information which mind furnishes to itself of the facts of the external universe. The process of this we have already endeavoured historically to trace. But what is the process of intellection by which these ideas are formed ? When the mind determines for itself, for example, an external world, or arrives at the idea of externality — what is this mental process? It has been called an intuitive Judgment. How little does a name help us to the understanding of a reality I What is a Judgment ? It is a state of the mind on the pre- sence of certain other states. What is this but a mental resr It ? All that can be said about it is, that it is a result arrived at by mind, or one state of mind that arises in conse- quence of another state of mind, or other states of mind. It seems to explain a vast deal when we call it a judgment, as if we knew what judgment was. A body exists in space : space is infinite and eternal : space cannot be annihilated. These are called judgments of the mind. I exist ; tliere is a universe without me: I am one of millions of beings like myself; there is a material world on which I live : I am surrounded by a creation, animate and inanimate ; I see life in its thousand J-.. INTELLECT. 133 forms : I discern the properties of matter, I trace its laws- I SCO reason as distinguished from wnreason, (if I may coin a phrase) : my simple ideas are combined; space becomes magni. tude, capactty: they are modi/ied; spa^e becomes figure ■ hrue gives me the notion of eternity ; these are further modi- /erf; the properties of figure and number evolve: dimension and tmie are measured : the position and duration of the planets are fixed and calculated : their ,,eriodic motions, their orbits their attractive and repelling influences: the size, structure' and habits of the various tribes, vegetable and mineral, that people our earth, their formation and growth and decay ; these are marked: chemical affinities, combinations, and repulsions are discovered, till there is nothing almost beyond o. ; now- ledge, or our capacity of knowledge. All this is said to be by a process of judgment; it is at least by a process of intellection. Jiut why do we call it intellection ? Because if we ask our- selves, what judgment is ? we can give no answer but that it 18 a process of mind, or, in every single instance of it, an act of minct by ivliich an idea arises or residts in the mind from the presence of another idea, or other ideas. When my mind is in the state of observing or noticing a body existing or movincr in space, and it obtains the idea of space, what clearer notion does It give me of this process to call it a judgmen f . than just to call It simply an act or state of mind, or intellection ? All that we can say about it is, that it is an act or a state of mind We cannot arrive at any more distinct notion of the process or act m like manner, when in a mathematical problem I construct a c rcle or triangle according to certain requirements, or, in a mathematical theorem, I prove that any two angles of a !Zt.Z '?"'^^ ^''' ^'^''^^ ''''''^^' ^"g^^«' ^'^^^^ the quare on the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to t bleToTtb ""'''i"P'" ''^ ^^^'^^' ^° any mathematical problemor theorem whatever: as respects the successive acte of the mind by which the result is arrived at, the problem a comphshed, or the theorem proved: what cleUr dLo'^y calHhem :r: '' !'"' ^^^^ ^^ "''' *^^^"^ J<--^^^ than o call them simply acts or states of mind ? This being irue and 134 INTELLECT. that other idea being verified, another arises or follows as a consequence, and again another ; but what is there here but successive states of mind, or one truth evolving out of another ? When I compare, or am said to compare, two objects together of different dimensions, and I pronounce, as I am said to do, regarding their i spective magnitudes, this is said to be a judg- ment of the mind ; but is it not just the mind existing in a state of felt or perceived diversity between the two objects,— in this instance the diversity of size or magnitude ? Were the objectp equal, the mind would exist in the state of felt identity, the identity of magnitude. The judgments of the mind, then, we contend, are just ideas or states of the mind arising accord- ing to certain laios. There is not a faculty we call judgment ; but the mind exists in certain states inevitably according to the laws essential to mind, or conferred upon it by the Creator. There is the law, as we have already stated, of identity or diversity, in all the kinds of identity and diversity existing among objects— the law of resemblance— the law of contrast— the law of analogy— the law of proportion : that is, in each case, the law according to which the mind perceives or exists in a state of felt identity or diversity, resemblance, contrast, analogy, proportion. These relations hr been established, or must exist in the universe ; and the ii ,1, of its own nature, or in virtue of the constitution which God has impressed upon it, is fitted to perceive them. Our own identity, for example, our minds are constituted to recognise intuitively and at once. When this law of the mind is disturbed, identity in objects is lost ; or it may be only personal identity that is confounded, while other objects are seen in their true character. What confusion is introduced into the mind when this one law is deranged, when the mind is no longer capable of seeing objects in their real character, but everything appears in some aspect or character not its own ! This is perhaps the grand or per- vading phasis of mental aberration : the law of identity is lost, or the mind is no longer capable of identifying self or any other object. A thousand wild fancies in consequence flit through the brain. Place, time, self, and every surrounding INTELLECT, 135 o ^ect, are confused and supposed to be other than they are ihe person who i8 the subject of this derangement or aberra: .on exists m a world of his own. He is I prince-he Ta ZrZl P^f «^«^^-J-'- has some high misL to ^tfre. h 7" '''^'' '"^J^^*^' ^''^ <^^«*hedin regal ittire , he has a crown on his head ; he wields a sceptre -or he IS required to announce some great truth, and all must t 2; s" f •''.' "'■"' " '"^^^ *^ ^''^' *h-« -h-e 'ft- .'"''' '^ '' ^^' " >^^^«^^*^ «/^^'^^.- we say it is by W. M^nd decerns these. And so with resemblLl and con rast, so with analogy, so with proportion. The relations tZl , ^^^'^ ""^^ ^' ''''^''"^ ^"^« ^^«"*'"*y ^»d diversity. Ev nts and objects are either the same in point of time and place, or they are not the same: they are more nearly the same, or they are more remotely different It is by the law of identity that our sedations and idea^ are lecogmsed as the same at the different times of their bein. prese.^ to the mmd. The law reigns among our internal st2s as well as among external objects. It is thus that our internal taes become ^..mm/na^ec^-their identity is recognised, and thei^- diversity from other states is marked. Diversity, there- ore IS the co-refe^e of identity, and the two form the ground- vork of all the other laws, and consequently of all the other Resemblance. Identity, not individual identity, bat the identity of classes clls'T ',*™r™"'"™"^' "■''««'• Objects exS olas«s ; these classes have nearer resemblances to other claws TronAt in ! , T'-rf™ """ --"Wanccs, cannot be brought m contact with them without i>erccivinK them It does not constitute them. There are re ombiances wW, i «. mgeuuit, may constitute, as whou we pcccive a e o Wancc between wit and an essence, „r betwL the sL«i . •Wf* 13C INTELLECT. of wit and laughter, and the flash of the h'ghtning and the report of the thunder, in respect to which resemblance, Charles Lamb says, that the succession can never but once take place. The resemblance between an April day and beauty smiling through tears, is entirely fanciful. But there are actual resem- blances, and it is upon these that the process of classification depends. This is no arbitrary process. It depends upon the real resemblances in objects. That resemblance amounts in some instances to an absolute identity in all particulars, except that of individuality, the identity of the individual. When this is the case, the individuals are in all respects the same, except their individuality ; they are the same as regards the essentials of the class— the essence of the species. There are Btill diversities, and perhaps, strictly speaking, we can never arrive at a species infima, althougli in classification there is what is termed the " species infima," or lowest species, inas- much as to go any further, any lower in the classification, would be useless and troublesome. It is a fine law of creation, and indicates admirable and beneficent design, that the objects in creation exist in classes, or that there are such resemblances as to allow of classification. Were every object diverse from another, where would be the fine purposes served by the great aggregates or the vast multitudes of the same species that we find existing ? We might conceive, indeed, the same pm-pose served by difierent objects, agreeing in the purpose which they served, but diverse in every other respect ; but in such a case, thougli the useful object could be accomplished, how could this be known ? Instead of a class being ihscern- ible by the numerous particulars in which the class is united as a class, we would have to repeat the discovery of the useful property or quality in every new individual or case. It is plain that the first end of creation would be frustrated. Certain purposes were to be subserved, but not a purpose could be sub- served where such a diversity reigned. We must suppose in such a case, that our very sensations would be different among themselves, since nothing existed as a class ; not even matter could be distinguished as such, for what is matter but the u INTKLLIXT. 137 137 lespcctively recognised dewni """"I and matter are ingsofconL-ouls^^detSaf .oT "'"■''» ■''^^Ming feel- concerned, though n^n:;"!; ^^I^^'T °""''°«' '» rather than identical Tl,. J ' *««'<"■« resembling .esemhlanees that'tvaU a'rr^P^'t '" <'='="">8 thosf qualities under clasLT We .et f,,""^ '"'* ™'"'"«^" »" two generic substances which d vild T ''™''*'"S' """ "'e »cl mind, that these were he I i '^T""-^ «"= matter e-0'thing else ma, be indu e .' SllT.r''" *'' or spiritual. But the same law „, "T™ « » "'*" ""te™' dassifl»,i„n, gives us ottrsZrlrer^* '"^ ™ *'^ rosemblancc, are detected, so thaf onf ; .'*" •"'■ ^"'"^ and the universe is reduced to ler ^"'^ "P^^ress, hihils to the mind the order °tr ""'' " "' ^ " '^• things exist to the in „d no mltl' '' .'"■''™'''- Hence hut as animate and inau mate tr ^ T "f ""' ""'' 'P'"""''. the orders, genera, p^rol' S "'" '"""""■"^ '«'<' »1' 'aiiied. Hoi, thi^ ZZ o L paXtl "'',"'•■ " -"^ »ay smi,.ly of an arrangement , Ir T '^ ^ "' P'"™ '" ""^ <'■• quahties which are s«n to e emh e »' f """^'' °y»'''' an original and intuitive prcrof'b°''''.''r'''', """"'''''« '» 'he Piinciple of .e„e.„/4- : ' ,;, *;eT;:i •' ", "'' " * possoss i)roi)erties in eonm„m « "''"'^f "''JCcts are seen to -head; ^..t .eneraS^^I^: tj^' '' 7^ "'^^- "Pon an original law or princinle If r ^ . ' '""'^ ^'^''^'^^ to be considered hereafter M^ I ' "''"^- ^^ «'" ^on^e «-t principle, thr l^ietifnT ^ "• f' •"''' *'^'^* ^^ ^^ '•"erring, according to which?,! j ', '"^°^' "''•'^^^^^'We ^^d stances, we proceed to a ^ tl .^ 7^;';;--^^-^ -cun. tl^ese circumstances appear ,r T' ^ f "'^J'^'*^ "^ ^^^'^^ objects belong to one cfass'^^ n '■"'^"^^'" ^'"^* *»'««« which characterize that class a" ."^'.'" '"/^^ *he particulars H'.persedes the necessity of observin!! /l' " .7 ''^' ""■"^'' ^"^^ " class before we ventu o to d, ;' (V 'f ^•"''^"''^'^ «^ ciasMry. (Jassihcation would he 138 INTELLECT. I a very slow, and withal a very uncertain process, did we wait in all instances till we had gathered or observed all the parti- culars in which certain objects might resemble each other before we reduced them to a common class. We have a shorter way of proceeding, and at the same time more certain ; for whatever might be the accuracy and competency of our observations, or enumeration of resembling circumstances, we could never be sure that our observation or enumeration was complete, and that in no particular we had been mistaken. But by a certain law of mind, intuitive and irresistible in its operation, a certain conviction and confidence which never fails, a very few parti- culars in many cases serve for a generalization ; in some cases a single instance, or particular of agreement, is sufficient ; and in no case need the enumeration be perfect. A single circum- stance of agreement, for example, in regard to the teeth of certain animals, gives us the gramiaivorous and carnivorous races. To ascertain that circumstance is to ascertain the race or class. The chemist, in arranging his pharmacopeia, does not need to analyze every substance, or examine it in every parti- cular before he can assign it to its class ; a single circumstance may be enough to tell him that this or that new substance is an earth or an alkali — a poisonous or a wholesome substance. Just, then, as objects exist in classes, and the work of arriving at the knowledge of the individuals in these classes is greatly facilitated, so by the law of classification the work of classifica- tion is greatly promoted. But all objects do not resemble each other. Among many the law of contrast, instead of the law of resemblance, obtains ; they are contrasted rather than similar. The mind again is fitted to perceive this dissimilarity. It looks very much like a law, that the mind is fitted to perceive resemblance where it exists— contrast where it exists— to be affected by the ap- pearance of analogy, and again of proportion. There is a judgment in each of these instances, but why is the judg- ment different ? — why the peculiar judgment? Let it be ob- served, we do not attribute faculties to the mind. In all its operations the mind is one and indivisible ; it is mind alone If ^4 i'M INTELLECT. 139 that i« acting or operating as mind acts or operates Wp . more easily conceive power, in matter than we ^n in t ." In any one instance of the mind's «>,.. ^ "^'^'^- mind that we perceive or t Zt^^/^;,'"™'';^ power ■„ operation ; and it, phenomena Za^^n.t ' teio laws, characteristics, or pronerti™ „f J- T ,„ f '*''" it i» different. We can c„„n """'• ^'"^ ™'te even although w^seem toT Zr!;? "' "''"'" '""^"^ '•■" "- to what is iateriti Tw^ *;; °^^'"g »™*»g »pirituj that seems to be in mZ Zl J^^ T- ?l '*^'^' ""^ ""'j' P»«r po.er„rwi,,x^Ttlt::T:::^'.;;:;*^^^^ ing an act of will This wp ao,, • "" J"^'^ willing, exert- aoy othe. of the'mentS Z^^^Z aU^ ' T ''''' see that in any of fhe vhemm.lTT • ^ ^'''"*'' ^^ ^^^ which is actin. or exhib tTnrr u'""^' '' '' *'^^ «^^"^ ^^^^^f to exert an act^if^/dgt^^^^^^^ ^^ *^« --d of felt or perceived refaTion or l'^'"? *" ^^'^* ^° « «<^te or according to whillt ' r. '^■!:* '" *^"* ''''' ^^ ^hi<^h, ftgam, the states in which objects exist r^l, ^'■"'''* P"'*' themselves, or to one ano£ Sw*^"' '^.^^*'«"« ^"^^'^g those states. ^^'^^''^st, opposition, is one of CONTKAST. l^as oecome o.^o.eV.b;.. For inTtence t '"'^ *^" ^* a« height dinnnished to Tee tt «? 7? ^ '""^ ^' ''^^^^^^ what is lowin oneposition or pit ?"; ' '"'' '""■'"^^'^' in another. The same wifb Tli f comparison, may be high of right and wronrTi fe i nT; T ''"'' '' ^^ °"^ ^^^^ fore contrast is jutt a diff 1^/ "*' '*'"^^^^' ^^"^ ^^ere- auality. Uglineslotdettrvlt'T^Va'd "T ^'^"^ °^ or less .rem the law of beanW « ' J . '^*'°" S''^^*^'' ^rfssisssvssrtrifmmmmmm 140 INTELLECT. '; 1 ^ The sublime may sink by a less rapid gradation into the ridi- ; cnlous, but a single circumstance may plunge it from its peril- ous height at once into the laughable or contemptible. The sublime contests of the angels, in the Sixth Book of Paradise Lost, become somewhat ludicrous, from the admixture of ma- terial ideas : Satan, for example, writhing under the stroke of the archangel's sword, — . . . . " Then Satan first knew pain, Aiid \vrithed him to and fro convolved, so sore The griding sword, with discontinuous wound, PaBs'd through Iiim :" while we are told that Moloch, " Cloven to the waist, with shattor'd arms And uncouth pain, fled bellowing." Venus, in dudgeon, — as represented by Homer, — that a mortal had wounded her, is a similar instance, though perhaps here Homer intended the ludicrous rather than the sublime. Diomede's address to her is certainly in admirable keeping, and the pouting and plaining of the beautiful goddess are not less so. Jupiter seems rather to have enjoyed Venus's wound, even while he tenders to her the kindly advice to leave warlike affairs to Mars and Minerva. The introduction, again, into the wars of the angels, of a material artillery, which is material, and yet not material, — we mean the idea is material, but the enginery is so managed, or described, as to tell upon spini ual beings, and produce the most disastrous effects — this is undoubtedly ludicrous, and we are forced to laugh when Satan thus addresses his compeers : — " friends, why come not on these victors proud? Erewhile they fierce were comiiig ; and when we. To entertain thcin fair with open front And breast, (what could wo more V) propounded terms Of composition, straight they cliangcd their minds, Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell. As they would dance." Milton is not long of recovering himself or his poem from any ludicrous associations which his description might awaken. He had too much art to fall into the absolutciv ludicrous, but INTELLECT. HI .t mu8l be a lowed that the sublime and the riJi „l„u, ar. very elose „e,, hbour,. The »me proximity i» InT Z descnption of Satan's flight through ehaos Zl Z f - admissible. The poet might indut som^ ^ Th: frnZ -her ™gh„ or ^elti:;^^' ™ ^S^? ve^ o'r .«>us e,rc„„sta„ees amid the war of the elemen J, Se h^" .h»r T, L°™'" *™ ■• "■"' ""= P-"" "0 'J»"M fit t w„^ that e„„M happen was too good for snch a messenger of m" chKf. We have another illustration of the same Approach of opposrte or contrasted qualities, in the hideous fig,°„ef on omeof our most beautiful styles of architeoturT an^ffl =trs;e'"m:^::^rTS:s:f^r~^^ Some law ™J have JLVLZT:!:'' ST:lZ snblime made at* o^ T teTw' "I '°"'"""" "" ""^ gradation. Wh^s L„ n ;-^ ' ^ """' """' '" °'*'"'"' HMIIWVI ■rap 142 INTELLKOT. ^' Berious,— ludicrous when it was given in fiction. Don Quixote excites your mirth, because he never excites your pity. There is a gradation from the suWime to the ludicrous— there is none from the sublime to the sad or the pitiful. Enough for the analysis of the idea of contrast, which we have said may be regarded as identity or resemblance shaded away into opposition, or the opposite of resemblance. Now, the mind is susceptible of ideas of contrast, sees or perceives the opposition. Great, little ; sublime, ludicrous ; high, low ; beautiful, ugly ; diligent, slothful. Of course the contrasted quality is contrasted. Good and bad, virtuous and vicious, are not contrasted : they are disparate ; they are unlike quantities. The contrast of good would be the absence of good, if gov^d properly can have any contrast. Evil is an antagonist, not a contrasted principle. It does not merely stand in contrast, it actually opposes, and seeks the extirpation of the other, nay, has already supplanted the other where it exists. Contrast allows of comparison ; there is some of the quality of the greater or of the superior in the lesser or the inferior, though it has become negative. Lowness has still something of the quality that is in highness ; littleness has still something of the quality that is in greatness, that is, they are not disparate, or distinct, and incapable of comparison. There is no contrast between sublimity and poverty, the two things are totally unlike and separate. There is a contrast between happiness and misery but none between riches and misery. It seems essential to contrast, therefore, that the qualities or things contrasted be capable of a gradation from the one to the other. It would, perhaps, be presumptuous to speculate how far there must be resemblances and contrasts in objects and qualities as they exi?^ in the universe. What state of things would that be m which no one object resembled another, nothing was similar or homogeneous, but everything diverse or heterogene- ous 1 not even the particles of matter the same, so as to'^con- stitute matter ; no homogeneity among spirit, but a wild chaos of substances and qualities a thousand-fold more chaotic than INTKLLKCT. that chaos out of which the present order of th. ., • sprang ? Can the minrl o^«„ • n *"® universe or existence ? Tf « '°°'''^' °^ '""^ ^ «tat« of bein<. must have its hke Pprli„n« fK r''^''^"^a»ce. Every object monad of matter there arp n fl^nn. i "Keness. lo each illimitable. The numbL £ . f" 'u' ^'"^ """^ •"= »» not only what no man could nu.o^t^r T T ?'"°'' ""^ "^ But how much farther Zl 1 ' • """^ '"' incalculable. of systems, binds them tot her B„ °™'i'""? ""' """j' to our own planet, how^autf , the ,1^:," "f ""J '"'"^ to thk law I All is beautiful harmony wrroT' """^ .oaven, and wo ^e one vast flrmamenT W Z h m''" see its ordcrrr,^i:elTir T^''*'"'™'^*- ^e "3 .=erb. t«es, So^lltLil/S ^^ ^ among fhe diff^t ol;" /irS^ '"" »■"»'»'"« Stances, in our world Th...\ f . ''*""^' °'' ^ub- «-r identity, and tt thfirm oTan -1 7™"'""' " rustle of the riMnini- ™;„ * .i ^'* """& or the orash of the tl Ider frorth. M "^' "' ""^ «'"' »■■ «"« ing vapour, we ha^a ^u"; ^ZIT'^I^ '" *^ «-'• ".-rm and under which^ lll^tS^ ZTaSi^ "»»St=;.,i:;:ir;"^'"^' '■**-'•*•■«. .^ .».i.. ^ 144 INTKLLEOr. i' III of its operatiou, mighty as the void or interval between the ex- tretues may be. Mind itself, as such, has its laws. It is thus that mind is intelligible to mind, and that we can calculate upon its operation as certainly as we can upon the recurrence of night and day. The law of resemblance, as we have seen, gives us the law of contrast, or allows the law cf contrast. And this also is a beautiful arrangement in creation. It secures not only variety but pleasing variety. Variety itself may be said to be pleasing, but what would not be lost to the mind, if the variety was so little as never to strike with the effect of contrast ! We can conceive the shadings from perfect resemblance so small as never to affect us by way of contrast. What jdeasure would not thus be lost, even if utility would not be sacrificed ? It seems as if the Creator had delighted in contrasts ; no contrasts, how- ever, it may be to him. Creation ascends from the animalcule which the microscope can hardly discover, to the colossal crea- tures which roam through the desert, or that people the jungle. Again, we have the little flower, like a starlet upon the grassy field, hardly visible to the eye, and the oak, or the pine, lifting their branches aloft, and spreading a shade of some hundred feet in circumference. We have the mountain rising from the plain, and forming one of the most striking and interesting, or impressive, contrasts in nature. How does the majesty of the hills strike the mind, both as contrasted with our own little- ness, and when one loolcs up to them from the level beneath ! The Alps must tower like a world itself above the gaze. There could not be a more impressive lesson than to stand in one of the Alpine valleys at the foot of these tremendous mountains. They must catch up the mind, and overwhelm it at the same moment, by their august impressiveness. Eveiy other height can be as nothing in their presence. They will rise, and rise till the mind becomes giddy with gazing, and their summit is lost in the clouds, or hides itself in dazzling snow. Well might the poet hymn the Creator in those valleys from which Mont Blanc or Jura rises. It must be like the steps to heaven. Both Coleridge and Shelley have poured INTELLECT. 145 forth their hymn from the vale of Chamonn; fi . ^ the other to the spirit at least of nutuT Th^m' °°' *' ^"'' Coleridge's miad was one of deep anS Lfd n TT°" "^'^ solemn and lofty devotion :_ Prostration, yet of " "7! '^™ " '=''"™ to Btay the morning star In hm steep cour.o ? .So long he «een,« to panne On thy Law uwful head, O Sovran Blunc! Ihe Arve and Arveiron at thy base Ravo ecaselessly ; but thou, most awful forn. - R.sest from forth thy silent sea of pines Howmlentiy! Around thee and above, I>eep .s the air, and dark, substantial, black An ebon mass ; methinks thou piercest it ' As_w.thawedgc! But when I look again, ^''•yhabUaUon from Eternity!" Coleridge closes the hymn thus,— " Tl'ou, again, stupendous mountain ! thou 1 l.at as I raise my head, awhile bowed low In adoration, upwanl from thy base, Shnv travelling, with din. eyes suffused with tears Solemnly seomest, like a vapoury eloud, ' To nse before mo.-Iiise,0 ever rise; R.se l.ke a cloud of incense from the Earth ' Ihou k„,gly spint throned among the hills, ' Thou dread an.bassador from E„rth to Heaven And toll te stars, and tell yon rising su^. Earth wHh her thousand voices praises God .■• wo"teirT^^ -^ -- -taphysieal, yet ^-everlLoStid^^r^-:^:--^^-^^ ''^^^•^^d^^'ells apart in ituranjumi,,j^ f "^ote, serene, and inaccessible ■ And this, the naked eountenanee of earth TaTtt \r;- """■ 'r ^"""'^"' '""""»-•"«. ■ii-acn the advertmg mincL" • • • . " The secret strength of things. Silence and solitude were vacancy?" K -f* 14G INTELLECT. I .^1 I ' I. Christopher North muses in his own peculiar way among his own Scottish hills or mountains : — " What an assemblage of thunder-riven cliffs I This is what may bo well called Nature on a grand scale. And then bow simple I We begin to feel ourselves — in spite of all we can do to support our dignity by our pride — a mighty small and insignificant personage. Wo are about six feet high, and everybody about us about four thousand. Yes, that is the four tliousand feet club ! Wo had no idea that in any situation we could be such dwindled dwarfs, such perfect pigmies. Our tent is about as big as a fir-cone, and Christopher North an insect I" Some of the moat salutary and devoutest sentiments are derived from the feeling of contrast. Man recognises himself to be nothing in the presence of the vast objects of creation, or rather of Him who created them. Thus the Psalmist was struck when he contemplated the heavens, the work of God's hands, the moon and the stars which he had ordained : — " What is man, that thou art mindfid of him ? and the son of man, that thou visitest him ?" It is thus that all the proper senti- ments arising from the contemplation of God, in contrast with our own littleness and imperfection, impress us, and should impress us deeply; and hence the advantage of meditating both upon God and upon His works. Their immensity. His immensity, fills us with awe, and should inspire us with devout adoration. Sometimes of an evening, when we look into the sky, the overpowering idea bursts upon the mind, — How great must be that Being who formed these heavens ! " Worlds on worlds, amazing pomp I" — who presides over those planets, guides them in their mazy courses, is above all, in all, and through all ; is in ourselves, and, while he is the nearest object or being to us, is at the same time the farthest off, in the remotest regions of space, an Omnipresence, a Spirit, who can be nowhere absent, and whose energy is ever operating ; wlio looks down to us from the sky, and who besets our very path ! t< n b( in fr( in ms INTKLLBXT, 1-17 AtiALOUY. be..-.™ objects or cil„r, " ' • }u '" ""' " """"'Wance relation which tile ■" T . '" ""'™''™' •"' '■» "» ">insel.e. Themin/ifiu "'™"'*f« bear to Home- circumatiinces in wliid, (!,„.. ' ''' "'" "''Jeets or «re connected, »Iy t hTl'tT"""!' ^ "'"■ "''^1' «hey "mple, may bc^orpar«I „, ut*™"''"-, ^ "">. f- ex- Cerent effecta or JZZ toll " "T"""""' '° "» '"f- I' is the mariner'" nt^ 1 ""• ""'' '» » >»"J-oarriage vehicle of tra„rte„;"e': the mo7r7 '. " " *" "™'«'* There is „o direct re emi ] ""*"' f"* "' *e worid the analogy i, vorvlw "^ '"T" '"' »'"> » "«=■■, but •heirsonre' t el ^ g^ ^ j"";" '''.''^ "» both regard^ in resemblance between 1 X 1 '•',"• ^''""' '" "" direct b'.t the analogy hold, whT» ' ""' '"'"'^ "■■ S""". and their subsfqu^nt llth andT'"." ""' '"""""^ "^ >'°"> nature and proWde„ee°Sr b mff . '']" '"'"«''°™ "^ dom of grace, but as re^rdltl, ^ ""^^ ^""^ *« ^ng. are the same a„d\CX™' M^ ""'' ''''' ^"**' *fy the one to be'tbose wL^w Ztt' fu"?'"" "■"■"'' P^™<1= words, „e may expect ofildtbr*""'' "" """^ ■• '" »«her rnnning through tlrall Id ir" ""TP'"' "^ '"■"-'J'"^ dation of Bn.ler-, famous ar™lf' """""'"S'^' '» ""= f->™- «o the constitution Td eoSTnlr "'r'"^^ "' -"P™ laws have often a snrp,|»Z ° w '■ *'''"™' «"'' "oral tendencies or their ZS '^^k "-"= ■" respect to their filar in themselves. ~i's one ' IT" ''^ "o^' <>«- '»* the natural and mordj rWs Z t , "™' '" ^^'^^ •0 connexion with permanenev ™ ,' ''"""^ "''P-O""' trees which are longest rfr-' '?'^''""""' "f result. The in vigour, and are .^Lrdlt t """f *'" """""'y' "« '""gesl The flower soon regies ^h^*;T '"' "■"' ""J-'i" ■-«eems to start into f:i,ta;„\t;rrSnoJt -'MKMM mmmmm 148 INTELLECT. '/'' \- ■ but for a day, and where tliere raay be some progress in its growth, its life appears to be longer in proportion. In the case of man, his life, had it not been cut short by sin, would have borne some proportion to the period of his infancy, and, as it is, it does bear some proportion still. It would appear to be so also with mental and moral powers and habitudes. The quickest of development are not uncommonly the soonest ex- hausted, and very precocious genius too often but flourishes and fades ; at all events, such genius never perhaps exhibits the same strength and maturity as that which grows with years, and keeps pace with advancing life and advancing expe- rience Greatness seems to he the result of slow accretions, like the rings of the oak, exhibiting a texture and a promise of durability which do not belong to the lush-stalks of a spring and summer's growth. There is analogy here, but not simi- larity, or direct resemblance. The mind is like the body in its growth and pi'ogress, both need discipline, training, and what food is to the one, knowledge is to the other. The eye takes in the expanse of wood and field ; it looks from heaven to earth, and from earth to heaven, and the uni- verse unveils at its glance. Analogous is the mind in its rapid movements through the universe of truth — as rapid as penetrating. It is on this law that many of the discoveries in science depend. One principle may have its analogous principle, and may suggest it to the mind conversant with science. The simple motive power of steam, in a particular instance, sug- gested its application to the impelling of machinery, and led to the invention of the steam-engine. The most remarkable dis- covery of modern times, the electric telegraph, is but the appli- cation of a power which ha'l already transmitted itself along the string: of Franklin's kite, and made known to him the electricity of the sky. Instead of the laborious structures of Rome, the aqueducts, which are traceable to as early a period as that of Tarquinius Prisons, and whose remains are still seen spanning the plain of the Romana Campagna, the observance of the simple law by which water invariably seeks its level, ess in its 1 the case ould have and, as it 3ear to be les. The )onest ex- flourishes 3 exhibits ows with ling expe- iccretions, )i'omise of ' a spring not simi- e body in ning, and ler. The loks from the uni- nd in its s rapid as n science nple, and ice. The mce, Bug- md led to kable dis- the appli- self along him the ictures of f a period still seen ibservance its level, INTELLECT. 149 suggested a mode of introducing that element into cities from almost any distance with comparative ease. Cl y a HmS c^n be assigned to the applications and discovers founded upon the law of analno-v Tu^ "'si-uvenes lounded exlcnica«ons; in the other, it i^ cf„ '-iKftt'iiea m a law of nature under varied rirpum :«::: rBrr-'lS l^aS ~t't ^" re- connected with snch „ .,hjecT::e att S'scit^rutr t^k iC to t LT' r M™"""" ^-"'i-tio'a that Z apphc'aSn There ' '! « r« '"^ ^ "''"""«« '"■"' " "ttalogy drawn "bv Sh I ' f "■""' °'' ™'"y '" «'« =y drawn by Shakespeare m the often-quoted passage,- . . . . " She never toW her lovo, But let conrealuu.nt, like a worm i„ ,he bml, *ood on her damask cheek." But who does not recognise the beauty of the a„alr. ?y not- "JWfJ Pj tL 150 INTELLECT. i ■ withstanding ? In the lines which follow we have resemblance without analogy, — . . . . " She pined in thought ; And with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a nionumout, Smiling at grief." This must be resemblance simply, unless we consider the resemblance to consist in the effects produced by the two objects, the pining beauty, and the figure of patience, on the mind of a spectator, or a person contemplating them, or the mind to which the analogy is presented. There is fine poetic power in the comparison. Patience sitting on a monument, is at once alive, and is only a dead statue. It is as alive in the mind of the poet as it would be in the mind of the sculptor, ivhose conception the poet was realizing in his. Resemblance gives us direct comparison : Analogy, tJie com- parison of effects or relaiions. When we have said that the power of perceiving or detecting analogies is the great scientific and poetic faculty, of course we do not exclude the simple law of resemblance, for analogy includes resemblance, and resemblance is poetic as well as analogy. Many of the figures of poetry, and eloquence, are borrowed from resemblance simply. But the re- semblances of analogy are even more general than direct resem- blances, iniismuch as the relations of objects must be more numerous than the objects themselves, while they must be also more striking and more beautiful. A resemblance of relation must be more hidden, more recondite, than any direct resem- blance, not so obvious at first ; but a resemblance, when once per- ceived, always pleases more the less likely it is to strike the mind, and which comes u{)on the mind, therefore, with some surprise. Shakespeare, and all our better poots, abound in analogical comparisons. The conceits of our older wiitcrs often owe their beauty to the subtle analogies couched in them. Herbert has a fine analogy on the Sabbath, though somewhat of a conceit :— " Christ hath tnuk in this piece o/ffround, And madi' a i/ardni there far those lf7(M irniil herlis for their wound" INTELLECT. ^ ^-. • • • " He, above the rest la shape and gesture proudly eminent, &toodkkea_ton,er: his form had not yet lost All her ongmul brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured: as tohen tl^ sun new rism Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon, Jn dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and roithfear of chanae Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so yet shone Move them all the archangel." Here the mind is left to the dim effects of the sun in th. which we are acquainted to produce :_ elements with ■ • • . " His form had not yet lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Le^sthan arcliangel ruimd, and the excess OJ glory obscured." ™p".se of «o„g, he sa,,,-"It is Y *e™ t a" hf "« ° 0«sia„! that he th r mot 1- wtil^; t, °' ""!"°«^ » thy oouree when tl,. j t ' "'""""^ <'<'«' *ou retire from must have '' dI 1^^^ , ^' r""^'' '" *^™» """ *« "l.c»l<» of «c «,!,; f^ '„'" "'" *'«''"' -"'Brirf?" Oman ,1 j m ii I \ 152 INTELLECT. of former times came like the evening sun over his soul. " Did not Ossian hear a voice ? or is it the sound of days that are no more ? Often does the memory of former times come like the evening sun on my soul." So subtle are the analogies that the mind detects. It is a pleasing exercise of mind, and the most shadowy analogy has the most delightful influence, taking the mind sometimes alto- gether by surpiise, or leaving on it the most vague and unde- finable impression. How shadowy is the analogy, and yet how true, in these words ! — " The dreamy struggles oftlie siara with llc/ht." ThQ world is full of such analogies, and the mind is, perhaps, never but under their influence more or less. They come down from the sky ; they sleep or they rustle in the woods ; they are in " the light of setting suns ;" they lie on the fields ; they cliase in the shadows of the clouds over the mountains ; they sigh in the breeze, or murmur with the tides of ocean. It is tLuS that nature has a voice and preaches to us, or spreads its not obscure lessons before us in almost every object that meets our gtize. By the same law philosophy is ever adding to its discoveries, and rendering the path of man through this world smoother and happier, or his condition in it one of greater con- venience and comfort, as well as opening ever-varying sources of intellectual enjoyment. No fear of any limits to poetry, as some are wont to predict, because of the advancement of science, and tlie literal truth that is now poui-ed over every object ' for analogies will be ever new, and bidden resemblances will be detected by minds as long as there are minds ; and what limits can we set to the empire which science is still erecting for itself ? The law of analogy affords, and is frequently employed for the purpose of ilhistrating and enforcing, moral truths. The natural and moral worlds, as we have already remarked, seem to be pervaded by principles very much the same. They have the same Author, and it would seem as if He had stamped the same mind upon both ; or as if those perfections by which He is cliaractorized could not fail to leave a oneness of impi-ess on all INTELLECT. 153 to which these perfections gave birth, h there not somethinir .n the lo une.s of the vaulted heaven iike the felZmt ness in the human soul .P Do not the heavens Vmbohze greatness, vastness of idea, expansiveness of thoulhT^nd of or u the still lowlier flower ? Do not some flowers court the hade and seek the hiding-places of creation ? Some aj^n flow r ? thP " M '^' "'-'' ^^^ ^^^^^^■"'"^^^ i- the sun. flowei ? The rose is said never to be without its thorn while ben kept „pon its motions. The question occurs he"e Whv both in the natural and the moral world, .in ,u i ' , ^' grow w„e,. tl.e „„Uer a. noTcl™ X ^ wLI ^ when „„ „ff„,, i, „„ae to keep them down ? Do I noHnf a mora ruth ,„ the attractions of the sphores-in e ebb Id Snnfi, 1 i ^'*t"^S shadows mock the evp P r::^:r::rh:dt,rx-^r.:-£ i^l: "oet aajs?- "' °' ""'"" *™"«'>-' ">« »W« yea! " I lovo to view these tl.ings with curious eves, Ami inoraliz;! : Aud in this wisdom of tiie Ilolly-ti-or f 'an emblems see Wherewith perchance to n.ako „ plo„Ha,.t rhy.uo One which may profit in the afto!. (!,„,. ^ ' "v'-*? ^^-^n^^-'k ifiViSfimiimnBsamtvmuimfm I 154 INTELLECT, " Thus tliou^li abroad I might appear Harsli and aiiHtore, To those who on my leisure would intrude Reserved and rude, Gentle ut homo amid my friends I'd lie, Like the Ingh leaves upon the Holly-tree. " And should my youth,— as youtli is apt, I know,— Some harshness show, All vain aspt'rities I dny by day Would wear away, 'J'ill the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Ilully-tree. " And as when all the summer trees are seen So bright and green, The Holly leaves a sober line disjilay Loss bright than they ; But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree? — " So serious should my youtli appear among The thoughtless throng, So would I seem amid the young and gay More grave than they. That in my age as cheerful I might be As the green winter of the Holly-tree." " The rigliteous," says the Psalmist, " shall flourish like the palm-tree ; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God, They shall bring forth fruit in old age ; they shall be fat and flourishing," Does not our Lord gather many of his finest lessons from the analogies whicii nature presents ? " Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow ; they toil not, neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." " Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your heavenly Father feedeth tliem : are ye not much better than they ?" By how many analogies does not Christ represent the kingdom of heaven ? and some distinct principle of that kingdom was illustrated in all of them. There was more than mere vcsemhlance— there was analogy— when Christ said, " I INTELLECT. 155 i^veiy oraiicn in me tout beaiclh not fruit he tatpi', away, and every branch .hat beareth fruit I,e pueth it th It may bring forth more fruit " H, >.- fi,. i i % '^^'^ ^^> '^"'^* »ay, in the .pirit of thij llo^ " Fof^t^HT ^^^'^ iievv Doay. ihou sowest not that body tliat sh-ill ht t ! now chained to ea h teto "'I T'^ "'"= ™ *^ '»^^. more .piritnal re!fon ' "° '°'""""'°' "^ " '"gk" ™<1 primitive ide* or the r r!!! , "*. f "''''^ i" »<»"« of our Take any erm„le„?!yfr' "'* ''"*'''*«^ ^'-''^'y- -u be ft^rtii Te r^"' r'T^r-f r,'."™"'' instance in which it ^.T T ""^'"Jual object or resemblance and a„aW i, L >"" "'*™"° ''»'«™ "V t ' i i^W fcjIWWWr mmmm i; 156 INTELLECT. observed. Such identity and diversity may be traced by the observant mind in all the varied objects, or manifestations of law and of principle in the universe. PROrORTION. Proportion is the next of those general laws under which objects are contemplated, and according to which the mind is fitted to contemplate them. Objects may be regarded in their identity, their diversity, in their resemblances, or under contrast, in the analogies that pervade them, and again under the proportions which mark or distinguish them. Proportion is a certain relation between objects or qualities or between parts of a whole : it may exist among mathematical lines and figures, and also among simple numbers. It is either the proportion of magnitude, or degree, or number, or of disposition or arrangement of parts, with reference to one another, or to a whole. A body is either greater or less in magnitude than another — a quality greater or less in degree — and '^Uher m^ay stand in a certain relation of disposition or adaptation as parts of a whole ; or, again, any number of bodies or qualities may be considered in their relation to any other number. But bodies may be contemplated in the lines of their superficies; and number may be contemplated ab- stractly from body. We have thus the proportion of magni- nitude, the proportion of degree, the proportion of number, the proportion of arrangement or disposition of |>arts ; and magnitude and number may be represented by lines, or by abstract numbers or symbols. The proportion of magnitude, of degree, of number, may be divided into these three— equality, greater, less. Equality is when any objcut, or any quality of an object, or any number of objects or qualities, is the same in point of magnitude, degree, number, with any other object, or any other quality, or any other number of objects or qualities. The objects, or qualities, or numbers, are then said to be equal : there is no disparity of greater or less. I can take my measure, INTELLECT. 157 r measure. or I make my calculations, and I find an eaual.'fv rp. • . words extent in ni ^ .■ o^eadth, however, in other ae^ree, oi the measure is expressed by dearee Wp rr.o i g-erio i, the ,Mea n^niWe l,d, ! el"\ */ "T":'*' ^° ".agnitade is fairlj. anproprile Ifh ,lt ?, "^ '""''• ^'"'' or t!,e magnitude olTn:,2ly tl'^' "^S^tado of space. n.eMapp,ioaHe to U^L, anZalirthV ■"""""- po*.«e, and heat is J„ei4 to J^f Z^^Z: ■9 ir lueiisure. iHtior. ihat theory ,« indeed disputed: we noticP hZ trees-in the growths of tirevariouLlirae'r^fr^ Belves-in the laws of evaporation: ^^^^^^^ and repnls.on-pokrity-in the centriZnl ? ^"'*^ laws-in the adaptations to the want" ^^^^^ T '"'""^^ trihes and siihstances f h.f r. i , "^^ ""^ *^® ^^"ous in the law of g^oX^^^ ^:,*''''^* ^«'"P««« the earth- -in the balat: g o t L: ^ 7^'-^'"^ «— nt asks Job, "Dostthon tnl., r, ''^"'""'^ to which God wondrou; ^^oZofZnl^^^^^^^^ f ^'^ ^^-^«^ the all tliese what proporHol do w ^ t '^ knowledge ?"-in position and uda aC- Turthe .""'' 7^^ '''''''''''- ganic strnoture-^hat proporU T r^^^^^^^^^^^^ 7 7 T the proper ^istretr irnTr:^;!^^^^^^^^^^^^^ -^- symmetry n,ay be included under t^elr. ^'T''''^' ^^^ portion. In the disposition of pLL how ^'"'"u *'™ P'^" toone another and to n ', P^''«' /however, with reference , and to a whole, synimetry has regard to the * This proportion has been regardedlv „„ i- Sunmer as subserving tbe propel „fl ^ ' """ "^tf "*'''" °'- I----" ho has advancement of soei^-aL. t;: S JT^!^''^ ^^^'^ '"^ ^''^' ^^■"'"" ( I a U(Hl.—See Records of Creation." IGO INTELL^:CT. '/ n balance preserved between these parts, in number, position, magnitude— as the two lef:js ot nn animal— the two wings of a fowl— the two fins of a fish. The two wings of a liouse are an instance of sytnmetiy. A single i)illar to a door, or gate-way, would be unsymnietricjil. The branches all on one side of a tree would be unsyrametrical ; and it was the arrangement in the leaves, petals, branches of trees and flowers, that led us to take notice of this admirable proportion observed in nature. Mark even the smallest leaflet, or indentation of a leaf, and it has a corresponding leaflet or indentation. There seems to be a symmetry in the very veins of a leaf. Look at the trefoil, the third leaf seems to grow from between tlie other two, and the symmetr} is between these two. We have no doubt that the minute, and especially the scientific observer of nature, could bring surprising instances of the law of proportion. There seems to be a flux and reflux- an ebb and flow— a giving and taking throughout all nature. Emerson has a curious specula- tion in one of his essays on what he calls " Compensation," which we give in his own words :— " Polarity, or action and I'eaction, we meet with in every part of nature ; in darkness and light ; in heat and cold ; in the ebb and flow of waters ; in male and female ; in the inspiration and expiration of plants and animals ; in the systole and diastole of the heart ; in the undulation of fluids and of sound; in the centrifugal and centripetal gravity; in electricity, galvanism, and chemical affinity. Superinduce galvanism at one end of a needle, the opposite magnetism takes place at the other end. If the south attracts, the north repels. To empty here you must condense there. An inevitable dual- ism bisects nature, so that each thing is a half, and suggests another thing to make it whole; as spirit, matter; man, woman ; subjective, objective ; in, out ; upper, under ; motion^ rest ; yea, nay." This is certainly carrying symmetry, or com- pensation, pretty far. But we have already noticed such a balancing or proportion in the objects and laws of nature. Emerson carries the speculation still farther. He traces the law, as we have already done, in the Divine providence, but according to his own peculiar creed or philosophy he states INTELLEC'I'. Ifil exce« Every 8w«,t!„i.h7„ .■''* " ''^°"'' '^""V Meet an There seems to be a re "•°'l™tion with ite life" Malthurt ,loelri„e ir, the ,^u^ °", 1!"^ °' '^"O"™ "f wl>e. therefore it I ' ,;.?!" 1™" '°'°"""''' •'"™*'' ■noted: " If riches i„creaL ' h J " "' «•'»% inti- I would not say th^ Ef,,,^ V f • °°"^='' """ »'<= *««." the mathematician have t^oed all Zolhe™ P °"" ' ""'" ""' inte^tin^ s„hjec?tf^:;trp,att' Si^'d"/"'"'""-' syraruetry. Synimetrv ,•« r,..^ , , "^"'^ '« different from there 4 be the p;^^^^^^ there . n^ot nr^r^^IZZ^ "^h^r '"^ '' '''''^ the branches of a trf-P L^ /"^«™ii;y. ihere is symmetry in portion betwe:lthe Ch :nT.tt°'",''r ' ^'"^ " '"- «nd the sh,m. There tasvmr. .'i""''' ''"«™ "« Po'»l» - the part, of a cap W •Xr"'^ '" "'^''"'■■"S °f a column, and the entablatoe and W ''?'"'"" '""^^™ «>o l»»e fange of column, on 'each side T.h t *f ""^ '»*• ^he symmetry; therelatirnof h s/tot r,'J' °' '^'«'*"'' ™ The proportions of Gothfc alw^.^ "^ ™ P^P"*'""' those of Grecian but Xv .T If ""^ '" ""^ '"f^^nt from ?™d and imp^tag t'oZ' "7°"'™'; ">^«»"ore p™,,or,ions of E.;;ian °'u; 7™ ^aste and classic. The »ith the Hindoo;;" mass" erv'?.' "' """» " *^ ="«« of Gothic, lofty 'and ZltlV;?^*^'''''' ^^^"nt, those L«-or -ould overnwe and Ld "P''' "^ ™*'^ a"" rather than solemn Xt tho e o" aV™ f' ^"""■^' Connth, a chastened and refl d wtfcThr'- '?"' """ ' wniic the mmsters and ■Ml 162 INTELLEC'l'. cathedrals of the Middle Ages elevate and subdue by turns, and secure that degree of solemnity which is in accordance with devotion. The structures of ancient Nineveh, which are now being excavated from those ruins which a Nahum and a Zephaniah foretold, seem to have been of gigantic proportions. We have some idea of them from the i)ictures of a Martin, purely imaginative as his sketches must have been. The caves of Elephanta, in the East, also astonish by their proportions — temples cut out of the solid rock. The impressions produced by St. Peter's in Rome seem to be very amazing ; perhaps it stands alone among buildings. The proportions are so vast, and yet so admirable, that it is not till you stand under the Dome for some time, and repeatedly repair to it, that all its proportions are taken in ; and the effect upon Beckford, as he himself relates, after repeated visits, was like that of the fir- mament, so vast, yet so simply sublime. The tremendous dimensions of the Dome are estimated, and can be estimated, only by the apparently diminutive size of objects which are yet known to be themselves vast. " But thou, of temples old, or altars new, Standest alone with nothing like to thee — Worthiest of God, the holy and the true, Since Zion's desolation : when that He Forsook His former city, what could be, Of earthly structures, in His honour piled Of a sublimer aspect ? Majesty, Power, glory, strength, and beauty, all are aisled In tliis eternal nrk of worship undefiled. " Enter : its grandeur overwhelms tlice not ; And why ? it is not lessen'd, but thy mind, Kxpaiided by the genius of the spot. Has grown colossal, and can onl^ find A fit abode, wherein appear enshrined Thy hopes of immortality ; and thou Shalt one day, if i'ound worthy, so defined. See thy God face to face, as thou doHt now His Holy of Holies, nor be blasted by His brow. " Thou niovest, br.t increasing with the advance, Like climbing some great Alii, whiih ijtill doth rise, Deceived by its gigantic elegance ; Viistnuss vhich grows, but grows to haruionizc, INTfiLLEcr. All mu«ici.liuitN immensities; Thou Heest not all ; but piecemeal thou must break io separate contemplation, tbe g^-eat whole ; " And as the ocean many bays will make, That ask the eye-so here condense thy soul lo more ammediate objects, and control iliy thoughts until thy mind hath got by he.rt Its eloquent proportions, and unroll In nughty graduations, part by part, Ihe glory winch at once upon thee did not dart." able in the for^^t ^^^^^^^^ Proportion observ- with the proportions of LJ, I ,,""'"""• Who is not struck destined for the serriot anZn "" ""'"""^ """'' «<"! ^' beauty, and swiftne™ whose W ""u"™" »' """g'h, scour the plain ■ „2 ' saT), 'T *'"' ""'' «" ■« ""'r hesmelIe«uhe'teleafroff?h:"f'''/''?*'Ha.halanJ the shoutings." A /ooUfte w pt;;!?'^ ^"P""'' ""^ among the trees of «nm. .^^^P^^S ^'^^e lawn, or reposing li-Cand hral jrrns'rnTso'^'!' ™* *- '»'-"' image of beautv ^.n^ J , * ®^^' ^^^'"s the perfect mere outward shape or fo™ B,^ „„ f "'!, ""' ^"^ *''" combination of svinmelrv „^' • '""' ^° ™ »e the triumphs so gr J™ rh,™'T'"''°''° '=™P'^'«' »>> »« ■•' that the pfinW and tt T .° ?""■ ^^^ingly, i, ;» „„ a»d put Jh tb; r st t h d '' "" '""*"' *'™^ "««- conception nobler hantl' I r'°^' " """''' W'»'-. f™"- » '"e realit, eee™ t / o Tnl^Ii " T' "T '""' "'»' artists, h-ke the ancients ZTt\ '°.P°'°' '"• l^ian beauty. rronortio„T v '"'™ """«i »' 'kis i,lea) their Lenrd?u^,n "™T "'"'^ °' P'''""''- ™ or their marble, ^Z dslttr' "l""' "^'^ ^»™ Uistuib the minutest expression of 16.3 iiliidaiiM 164 INTELLECT. ease, grace, majesty, beauty, strength, power. And we have an illustration in this into what almost imperceptible lines and degrees proportion may evanish, if we may so speak, or of what imperceptible degrees it may consist. The proper conception of proportion must involve infinitely minute particulars or shadowings of thought: the last conception, how minute! Nature has not been so particular ; but as in the moral world Butler has referred to the tendencies of principles though we may not see their full development ; so with regard to ideal form and beauty, their principles may be seen in abstract con- ception though never in a living concrete. And this is what is meant when we speak of an ideal form, or an ideal beauty.* We see to what the principles of form, of beauty, point or lead ; we can follow the indication, and imagine the reality. ..." Turning to the Vatican, go see Laocoon's torture dignifying pain — A fathbr's love and mortal's agony, With an immortal's patience blending : vain The struggle ; vain against the coiling strain And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, The old man's clench ; the long envenom'd chain Rivets the living links, — the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp. " Or view the I^ord of the unerring bow, The god of life, and poesy, and light — The sun in human limbs array 'd, and brow All radiant from his triumph in the fight ; The shaft hath just been shot — the arrow bright With an injniortal's vengeance ; in his eye And nostril beautiful disdain, and might And majesty, flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity. * " We call attention," says Cousin, " to two words which continually recur in this discussion, — they are, on the one hand, nature or expetieTKc; on the other, ideal. Experience is individual or collective ; but the collective is re- solved into the individual ; the ideal is oih posed to the individual, and to collective- ness: it appears as an orig'nal conception of the mind. Nature or experience gives me the occasion for conceiving the ideal, but the ideal is something entirely dif- I'erent from experience or nature ; so tiiat, if wo ap})ly it to natural, or even to arti- ficial figures, they cannot fill up the con- dition of the ideal conception, and we are obliged to imagine them exact. The word ideal corresponds to an absolute and indei>endent idea, and not it a rol- lective one." — SfP Cousin on Beautv. INTBLLECT. 165 " But in his delicate form-a dream of love, Shaped by some sditary nymph, whose b;east I^ongd for a deathless lover from above And madden'd in that vision-are expr^st All that ideal beauty ever bless'd Remind with in its most unearthly mood, When each conception was a heavenly guest- Amy of ™mortaiity_and stood, Starhko around, until they gather'd to a God - to LL pel" 7ict ritadrjlr ""' *"" teresting landscaoe whp<1"« ^ov^ers make a picture it Z ZIT ] '' '' ' "^°"^'^* ' '^^ *« the sky must be strchedl 17 T^ ''' ^^^-Vorts, and it«elf is not a picture thoulr^^. "^'J'' ^^"* ^'^«« ^^ and sublime po'et^,:; thelV^ho^' '' '^""^'^ ^" '^^-^^^"^ " '^''"'' '■*« ™°'es8 pillars deep in earth " II "^^^t!".!:^ \-^ -d combinations graceful all I ^""^'""P"' ^ow admirable, ho'.v ^^^onl^^^^^^^ thoughts, and secures serious in Lp;sitioV:iru t trud. ^l^^' " ^*^^^- ^he tfce gay upon the seriou and v ^t' '^'" "P«" ^^e gay, or fancy, will be linuted to L^ pr " er T""'' '"' *'" P^^^ ^^ in their proper proportion Ckep^^^^^^^^^^ ff '^ ^"'"^«"^^ observance of each style., : ,-ln n7 ^ ! '*^^' ^' J"^* *he tatiou to the subjecl in h J Tn ' ^^ '"^^^^^^ «''«?" predominance of Le oneflcult/crT' °"^'' ^'^^^^ ^ « others. It i. all • ^.ning o7 t Tin ' '°"'' ^"'"^*'^«' ^^^^ H fine fcaUnc "2' "I t "" 'rnagmation ; or there i. .^wei-s. I^ It word« m fit places" is the i Srr i ni i i i iMwirtrmr i ,^,^.,,^jjj 166 INTELLECT. definition given by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, of good style. Is not this just proportion ? It is undoubtedly an aspect of it. A balance of all the passions was the definition, given by one of the ancient philosophers, of virtue. There is truth in the definition — for virtue will secure the balance or regulation of all the passions ; but virtue is something else, and is not merely what it secures. Politeness has been called a proper regard to the smaller decencies or proprieties of life. Eccen- tricity is when any part of the conduct is out of proportion with the rest. The grotesque and ludicrous in appearance or conduct arises in part at least from a want of harmony — the violence done to harmony— in the conduct or appearance. A Cyclops would be a somewhat grotesque-looking being ; equally odd in a mental and moral point of view are those of whom some crotchet has tjiken such possession, that it seems never absent from their minds, and appears to be the one thing there. Don Quixote outstrips all competitors in this depart- ment.* Hudibraa, perhaps, is his sole rival. It waa to m^:ick the only real thing of the age that Butler's Hvdibras was written, viz., Puritanism — Puritanism and the love of freedom being at that time well-nigh commensurable terms. Even what is good may be cast into ridicule by being represented in an exag- gerated form. The spiritual element is what the world never could, and never can, understand or estimate ; and accordingly while Hampden and Sydney have long obtained their laurels, as heroes and patriots, Puritanism is but emerging at this day from the cloud of detraction in which it was enveloped. Let but the element of religion be mixed up in any question, how- ever vital and important otherwise to the interests of mankind, and every hard name is dealt out, and false construction put upon the otherwise noblest actions and motives. A high and * Hence Foster's allusion to the honoured knight ; wiien speakiig of those who from their enthusiasm in any Cfcuse — even a right enthusiasm in a right cause— are tliought " to occupy a dubious frontier space betwixt the rational and the insane, are assigned to that class of which Don Quixote is tho time iraraemorial commander-in-chief" If this can be ?aid of a right enthu- siasm, what shall be said of an enthu- siasm altogether misdivected, and out of proportion ? INTELLECT. 1C7 f«™^ upon b/'rr^ho-'nr : rivrr^''"' fre^lo™, are thtnoVe tf Zljr l?:"^':; ""I '^">'°- in citable subordination a d Tm form 7bt "' "? ""' •=" which seemed to be bmt.n ,1 V '"^ ''"™ony subordination. The herT thT *" -fT"^ ™™'' '" *at stand in beautiful hannr; lift', "'"^''«™» '"f"™-, their patriotism andThel Tl ™' »■'<' 'k^^ heroism, which'suooeedinC dtretS. "°"""'° '"^ ""^'^'^^ '» oair!n''tre't;nrand'"f *? '™ "'''"'' »"«" '-P'- aud'mind Ju nt ° d d at "" '^i ""^ ™"' "^ ""'"'^ which opeU, the mMltCroV;;*'*^ •" ''""*™' ""^ di-ersity, re.-eml,!:>nce ^ontlt anl "" """""-^entity, not only the ,tl„ii„r „f , , ! ' ^°^^' P"-<>P»«ion. There is ob.iects,-the relation of"!™ an e eonl t tf '^'■™" tion,— but there is tlie I«w ™ .• ' ™"'"'"'' "na'ogy, propor- e^ist respectively!^ la! l-T "« !" "'"'* «"" "lations to the Dfvine ^.tiVlT'tZT, "'""' '" ^'* ^ the Divine rniud, these reWonXe threJ^r'"''^''" '^ ward realty: nnd our min^. "aw then existence in out- Divine, are flMlpJrcS/lrT,'" ""^ '""«= "^ *« pereeivo them, at Xe entetTi i« "' °"°'^ """■"" ^"^ would have to underl a tf. l 'V°.°°°' ™™tituted. Mind -■ations; and In f :e „pe" rf t'T "»V'°,I--ive these we have seen, in referenee .„ ""■'^»^V- Derangement, as these laws, o wU o^l ° ".' ' '""' ''■'"" "''» are not se n or r o'n "d » ''" " """■'"=' '" ""'" '''™' .-theniiLto%rrd;-t:rtr4„r;r liH iMiiiiKi 168 INTELLECT. shall touch the Bpring, and all will be well again— all again order, serenity, harmony, beauty ?— the mind will be brought out of its interlunar cave— no longer wander in eclipse— but revolve in light. God alone holds that spring in his own hand— can give the touch, can communicate the energy. We have now to consider the principles of the mind, — the principle of causation, or the principle according to which we trace causes— the principle of generalization, or that according to which the generalizing process is conducted— the principle of deduction, or that according to which all reasoning takes place : we shall consider the laws of association ; and having thus the modified as well as original sources or occasions of our ideas, we shall then consider what are called the facul- ties of the mind in relation to them,— reason and reasoning, conception, abstraction, injagination,— while the induence of volition upon the mind, or its voluntary acts, will also come under our notice. XIV. ^ The three grand principles of mind are causality, generaliza- tion, and deduction,— generalization, however, as we shall see, being partly dependent upon causality, and deduction being, in eveiy proper or real instance of it, a neio generalization. It is a principle of mind that every effect must have a cause ; that what belongs to one or more observed instances, or cases, will belong to a class ; and the reverse of this, that what be- longs to a class must belong to every individual of that clas8. These are properly principles of the mind,— the mind purely. The word principle, " principium," means a first truth. In ffisthetics, we speak of the principles of beauty and sublimity ; in morals, of the principles of justice or virtue generally. We employ the term rather in a conventional sense, to denote not only a first truth, but a practical result to which that truth leads, as when, from the truth, that every effect must have a cause, we proceed to the tracing of causes ; or from the truth, that like causes will produce like effects, we generalize pheno- mena or laws; and from the truth, the " dictum" of Aristotle. li tt INTELLECT. 169 general prmi J *' ''"™S "^ '='»'«l"«i™» i«m Causality. prior to its development rr"^ '. " "" '"'■«' '"» to a prheiple of .he mind w'e i„e tblv do^ TU^^""*"* what different %m our ooucludiug .•„ leZmce J« " •T'" "ia theli;;\ reTrrortiaTof "K ^^'-^ not bo present, or Z!T^ 1Z'"'1 '^"'^ ^'""'^ tr.eeaWe,-thu is someth" ng ^iCnt ! 2,7^ T '™ >>« comise a principle i„ opJiZTCltZ , "' "" «.onsness, self, the external world a„ tted?T' ""- oogDit on. The cam, ,\ a. i ■ ! ' . ™ °"''"'' "''jec's of We k„o; there L'Tthath''^""'*''''' l"^ ''''™™red. 'hat eve,, effecLrharatrbTl'"'" ^^•'-•>'^' have eluded our search or deteTS n^ °""',""'^ "« ^'' >■ •«. Consdousness, self an ~ ??r^'' " "^i'* ™st themselves be the ob et^^f X i«o 'orT^"'"'"^' the objects of cognition at «n ^ ''°«'".f™> »■• thejr are not *nce, is the object f col „ l""^' I'f, '"' P"*'""!"' m- m not yet be discovered "' "'*"'" ^^ ''™« «•»*« oau«.' its'Ti;,:' "r"'^ "? "" ^'^"^ *' »"»' have a We Principi;rt h e Z. C" '° *^ "'-veiy of c„» J "■^st in the mind prior to 2 r""""°'' ™'"' <•«» ""t «-n- together, tha7.re ^ItrLtria;^^ i'-tr'taniiMiiM ■HHIHIMl W i ll i II 170 INTELLECT. there is no such principle. There is no such principle as that I must exist, or that an external world must exist, but there is such a principle as that an effect must have a cause. We can affirm of a cause merely irora the existence or observation of an eflPect. Nor is this a first truth precisely in the same sense that the truths of assthetics or of morals are first truths. We could conceive the mind not recognising effects to be effects, but merely events or facts ; but we could not conceive mind not distinguishing between rigut and wrong, or beauty and deformity. The distinction betv^een right and wrong, beauty and deformity, is offered to the mind in the very fact, or the judgment of right and wrong accompanies the contemplation of the very action ; and the sesthetic judgment, the contempla- tion of the very object which is beautiful, or the reverse ; but the perception of a came in an effect depends upon a principle implanted directly in the mind. How important a principle is this! How much depends upon it ! We have seen it is concerned in the very idea of externality itself Every effect must have a cause : externality is the cause of this feeling at a particular moment : there is an external world.* What a powerful stimulus to investigation and inquiry ! Philosophy has been said to be " rerum cognos- cere causas." We set out on the track of philosophy as soon as we institute an inquiry into a cause. All discovery is connected with this. Even in the science or philosophy of mind we are tracing the cause or source or origin of our ideas — our feelings — our actions. In physical sciences we trace the causes that have operated, or that operate, to this or that effect. We say, what an important principle is this ! It carries us through the universe ; it lifts our mind to the observation of those stars ; it makes the world on which we tread a scene of interest and inquiry ; it makes every object by which we are surrounded a subject of delighted contemplation, or eager curiosity ; it makes nature the minister of our wants, and the magazine of our pleasures or enjoyments. Newton was pondering the principle * There is something more than this world, but this principle is in the refer- principle in the reference to an external enre. I INTELLECT. 171 18 in the refer- ^ a Liebig and a Faradaylf dZt * "^"IJ «"""'■ oilktions are oteerved in TJ°J ° '"^'^'" '•"J'- 0'" n."3t beacau,e;Tnida™ ^ »;^' ■ '«;"°?»=" k»o» too to calculate the d stance nni, ^ . , ^"■"" *' themselves ™ at work-teU t^ iw °; ''"°™» ""^ ««' 'l>at either telescope is poi ted ,„ S ° » ?'',Pl»"et, and when the pearanL in thl tl 'L^ sit the'T-f ' ■ ^^'*'" "P" inquiry. and the circ„lati„7of 2 «„ H "^"t^" '""' *^' means of mitigating disease and „ T 'I '''™™rf; the art becomes a scieni^^^^^rirth:"""';-.''"',*^ ''^^""S investigate the causes of ^l!! '• P"'"""' ^onomist, condition ; andTn%s'mad:°r '" "" '""' ""<• P°'"« social and political Jdiieil' ^ "" "'"'"'' ^y "'■'* the astir with »! rf" f i :7er'- •''^""'' '■» "■ent. No principle is more „c«ve i the ZT'.^ 'T"'" under our consideration u • / ^ ^ *^*^" ^^e one iisping his wo4 r dUe:: ';: Ti'v^ r' '•«' his meaning. The child 1 o. . ^ *° "'''^^^ ^"o^^n bas his the?^ ofT 1: "onT™ r ;r"" " ""' ""' "« posed them to be oneni„™ th" \ \ ' P'™" "omente, sup- was«n. CampbcEli^r^^tttr^ ^^^^ " ^f ''«'» «« to ^y cl.iIJ],ood's sight A midway station given, ' For liappy spirits to alight Betwixt the enrtli and heaven " oft^T 7m Thaftilf' 1 r *''•'•' «- »-*"» inquire the use I 1 '^ ""^ -"f ' ™riosit, does it thought himself but a ehi d „„ .h! '"/' ^'"' ^°"'°" of truth, gathering a few pebble* l^^'Tt" *,' «""' °"«^'' -'%ti,a. certain scienLharXi::™^:^- 172 INTELLECT. are unfolding their wonders before the eager investigator in the track of inquiry that has been opened up. The age of the world has been discovered to be thousands of years more than was dreamed of in a former philosophy. And all this by the instigation of the one principle of causality— the curiosity to which it prompts, and the certainty with which it foretells or anticipates. Dependent somewhat upon this principle, and nearly akin to it, is that of generalization. Generalization. The principle of causality is, that every effect must have a cause : it seems to follow from this, that every effect must have its own cause. There may be more causes than one for the same effect, but each is the cause of that effect ; and were it not so, it would not be a cause at all. The same cause, then, will be always attended by the same effect. This is the prin- ciple of generalization, and leads to the generalizing act of the mind. It is true that generalization takes place where we are not observing causes at all, but co-existing or similar pheno- mena ; but we connect these phenomena with some cause, and we generalize upon the certainty that causes are uniform in their operation. We observe in certain objects, or in certain phenomena, a certain feature or characteristic : we observe that feature or characteristic wherever we see those objects or phe- nomena : we generalize the circumstance, and say, that it will always be so, and in every individual of the class of objects or phenomena ; and we may thus get a class of objects or pheno- mena, that is to say, we are able confidently to arrange in a class the objects or phenomena so characterized. We do not wait till we have observed every instance in any such case ; we generalize the fact after less or more observed instances, as the case may be. Were we suspending our minds till every in- stance was observed, it is obvious we would have no general facts or laws or classes, for when would the universal induction or observation be made ? And it is in this that we see the i 1 INTELLECT. 173 the prLoipfe, .ha. it r««:nf ; T"''"P™'«'-P™ by like effecb. Bui (he MfaTi. h '^?""' "' "* *'"°™'' i" opemtion i„ every ^eT„'' /f" "" ""PP"" » """'e to .hi. conclusion Tpctltl ?" m T ''°" "•" "'■"' "^P after an io.crval of a ^^1 nu^T "A™ "^^ '™ ^'^'' »»* "■«e again-wl,y am I hd tl h r u ""' """' "» "•"■^. cau^a. work »',»«, 11^'!™*°' ""^ '» " «■/»« our horizon ? This ^1^ ' -T"?""' "'"" "' "'<' «■"> to ceeOs u,„n the "prfL^fcX fuTT,;™"- "^ i' '•'°- principle, too, viz that win, V^.f^' • ^'^ ^^ a distinct number o/obimtions of a 1 '^ '^'^^^ observation, or a a -i/'om caul aZ^^^^^^^^^ '^'^[^ ^'^-P-ation of Newton general zed trelarnf' '^'!f "".''' *^ ^^^/om effect. tion of tht falling of a'apple 'uTZ '"" *'^ ^^™- the uniform operation of a kw\ "'^ ^"^ ^'^^^ *^^^« ^as of all bodies^al Lekint al .' '' ^" *^' ^^™^^«^ "^o«o«« body. How wide wTs hat .^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ by the greater had hit upon by a fo^, sZsZ'''t:''f *^^ ^^ ^e and most original association^ar^^^^^^ creaHve power of which we have "^"^^.7 "^ • '' " through which that law had operation f TV '^^^^P*^^'^- zation the widest perhans thTw ^'' ""^^ * ^''^^'^^^~ have been Newtor!!! 1 1^ Xnt h "^'^J ""«* such a generalization ? Surelv ^f I . ^m^ned upon n^ortal to entertain a thouS 'L v. "'"' P''^^**^^ *« <^ined it at this moment Or ' .. 'u^' "^'^^^ ^^^« ^^^r- Pride P Wa. he he'ebroug tlce t f "''V'" *" ^°'*^ ^- of nature, and when heTeheld Z, T^ " ^''^' «^«^«* has styled « contrivance ntrfl """^""P^" "^ ^^^* ^owper feel in the presence of thf it P^^^^^^^ "'*'^ ^^^ ^^^ he power and v^isdom of wy^rl^SP '°' "^^'^^ *^^ dawned upon his mind ? Tf ^""*"' an expression had ™h a n^nd aJ ha FranMnT. ''"'f i^' '^P^'"^'^ -* raomen. gladly die, when! ' ° W Z "'^ T''' "" *»' phenomena of the clouds int^ hi S^emlization of the Clouds mto .he one principle with which he ^ ^A^' O .\^" IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ..*' ,^ y io '<5 Jr, 1.0 I.I 1.25 i4_ 1116 v; T-*1 rnoiograpnic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^' \ 4i>^ :\ .^^ ^ %^ r^ /l I 174 INTELLECT. fv "I had been so familiar in his study — electricity. What pleasure must burst upon the philosopher's mind at every such generali- zation ! It is like new land conquered — a new world dis- covered—the Pacific flashing upon the adventurous Spaniard and his band ! It is truly " standing on the top of some mountain thought," and taking a look not only into that new region of truth, but those regions which will successively open up, expanding immeasurably into the distance of scien- tific discovery. Generalization proceeds upon the principle that like causes will, in all similar circumstances, be attended by like effects. This, we have said, is somewhat involved in the principle that every effect must have a cause, for it is of the essence of a cause to produce its own effect. The further process of the mind, then, in generalization, is to apprehend the existence of some cause in the phenomenon or fact under observation ; and the uniform operation of that cause, and the consequent uniform effect in other words, the uniformity of the phenomenon or fact under observation, is an immediate state of the mind. The peculiarity of generalization, as we have already said, is that by which we pronounce the operation of a cause in the parti- cular case, a cause connected with the special phenomenon. The sun's rising in the morning, for example : we do not merely apprehend a cause connected with the phenomenon of the sun's rising; that would be causality simply; but we apprehend one connected with his rising at the particular time, and this gives ue the general truth or expectation that it will always rise at that time. The mind apprehends a cause connected not only with his rising, but with his rising then, and this is already the general truth. In the same way, the mind connects a cause with a body falling to the earth, and that v. already a general truth. The body might be impelled to the earth by a force for which we can account, but it falls to the earth by some law for which we cannot account, and ice generalize it into the law of gravitation. There is not merely, therefore, the operation of the principle of causality, by which we recognise a cause, but the operation of that in such INTJELLECT, 175 a manner, or in connexion with sn^h nfv. nund, as allows the mind alwZ f^ .'' ^"""'>^« ^^ the with the same result. 1 S f '"*'"^'"*° '^' '^^^ ^ause as it fell from the tree; why iti^" S ? 'S' ^^ "" ^^^^^ I'lg on our horizon at a partimln. 1 f ^^^ '"" appear- again and again, allow o'f^l,^^^^^^^^^ ^f *^^t not oncelbut -«ing. And it will be observed Sk'°" '''^''""^ ^'' at the same time, serves to establ 2. K ^PP'''^'''"^ repeatedly pearin, at tkat time; lltl^:^ '^X^r ''^ ''' "^- general conclusion is at once obtained *^Thf T'^' ^^' of an apple falling gives us the fact of ts 2r ''^r^'''''""^" observation of the sun's risimr nr!l ' '/«^^^«J7. but the one particular time, does not giv! u ITIT^ *'^ '°"^- ^* « time, but the one fact ot hi haviL ^'' ''''"^ '' '^^' two or three observations If hL n'"l"''° V^""' *""^' ^^' of, and we generalize that t 1^ T^ '"' ^' ^P^^^ phenomenon ascertained, we genereirit • k'?''"'' ^'^"^ '' It requires more observiions 2n 7^. ' ' '^ '°°^^ ^«««« fact or phenomenon. It Tsfo^t f "" ^'' '^' ^''<^^^^ cases we generalize more qucSrthan''r^^^' '''^' ^« '^"^^ the precise phenomenon clbS a't T '" "^^^"^'^^^^ than in other sciences, and the .Tr "'^ °^ore accurately rapidly. Get the precipe then f ''''''" '^^'' ^^^'^ very - immediate, since a ^'3!^!""' ^'^'^ ^^^ ^--alization To see that cause, is alrldy to ;^„X"%*r '^ '"^ ^P^*-' of an isolated fact, it is the causfof? \ '' °'* *^^ ^^"«« we have porcei>.ed, or thTw!rf '''"''• ^^' ^'^"^^ that effect in all simila; ci c m taTcerr '""" *° "« ^^^ «-« effect in all similar circumsL^es ^tir "" "^"^'^ '^ wjll be uniform in operation ,-. !' '^ '^ ** ^"^^ that The mind apprehenr:t~rt :^„7'T' ' ^^^^^*^^ -^• come. This we take to be Z 1 , ^^'^^^ ^° ^" time to Induction and gen raL^^^^^ ^''"1^*^ of generalization. «ame, but more pro^T „Tucf "^ ' -'^^ *"^^ ''' »««d' -« the tion of facts or inlnc's tot 1 ''^^^^'^^ ^ ««"-- Thi« observation of instl H nr'^ T^^^^'^'^^^'^ Proceeds. nstances is, properly speaking, induction MMHPI mmmmm mmm 17fi INTELLECT. and rightly viewed, generalization is quite distinct from induc- tion. Induction, strictly speaking, is the mere observation or gathering of particulars, or data— the generalization consequent upon this ia the only philosophic process. Induction, however, is generally spoken of as including both processes— the gather- ing of the instances and the generalization consequent. Induction is the grand instrument of Bacon— the " novxim organon.'' It is the grand instrument of all empirical science —of all the sciences that depend upon observation and expe- rience. It was because before his time philosophy had been conducted upon the false method of hypothesis and theory, apart from observation and experiment, that Bacon, by his novum organon, effected such a revolution in the philosophic world, and may be said to have kid the foundation for all future discovery. To ascertain facts was Bacon's great method —the generalization would follow upon these. Previous to his time philosophers generalized before they had the facts, and what they generalized, therefore, was merely matter of conjec- ture ; their generalizations were theories, and theories proceed- ing upon mere hypotheses. There was, therefore, no proper philosophy previous to his time, except a few scattered obser- vations which had anticipated the dawn of the inductive system. Among the ancients the vainest conjectures were formed regard- ing the system of the universe, and evex^ opinion seems to out- strip another in absurdity. Bacon demanded that we should not proceed a single step in science without ascertained pheno- mena. These ^ere carefully to be collected ; and Bacon iays down rules, which he calls " iustantias," which were necessary to all accurate observation, or induction. These rules, or " instantiffi," form the legislation of all inductive philosophy. Others, no doubt, are added as observation proceeds ; but by far the most important rules are contained in Bacon's enumera- tion, and they can never grow obsolete while science exists. Bacon is still regarded, and must ever be regarded, as the great legislator of science. Get but a sufficient number of cases in point, and let these be ascertained with sufficient accuracy, with all the accuracy which the " instantiae" will secure, and there INTELLECT. 177 177 T^X:^^-^:Tt ""' ."" *^ -' »'• '"o woA wiii be a, oertab I a to of ir' T"""" """^ '^ >"d upon conjecture was batrl ""1^ If I ", ^^-'^^^ b„iU It was like tl,e deception mbM „ ' !u '"' °° '»''"*>tion. beguile, .he favcllcr fn he d« t an"l ."'">»?'»■•<'. which "' tta. point in the diatatce whle ,t?"' ? " ^° ""'^ even like that-often not »„ !i • *™"'' '" '«'■ Not a figment of the fata ah ,& 7 '" ''»"™". ""Ut liker -J being. Nothing ™ "o e™.*' '^'""^ "''■'=l> «a™ it fern nothing too ridicuta to be a ht^ o?'"!-,'"" '""^'^~ Baw, that if we were to Jenera t °^ Ph.loaophy. Bacon rightly ascertained and well esTa S, ! ,"""' «™'""^'^^ "P™ was as distinct from scie""ast , f ""'^ ^'""=y of which it gave the ZLZ I '"" '" «'<'»'r'»m that What an adfance, acoTnTv 1°™"* "' ^^'™»Won. gave the lawl DisJoverseS t^ ^!'!°r ""''"'"«<' P-oor. track on which alone it oln" n ! t "" ' '""■ Th'^ i» the advance to conquest 1 ,t!, '^T'' ' °° ">'» ^d you may m her laws uS ^ot rrr:r ^i J*« ^ -.- rrM'srr:uj"\"™' ^"^ """^~ horseK Voum^iClriert"'','" '^ '"""^ "^ -"«« «cori tho.e instances r^hitrvoTr''""''- ^°" """' Von must submit to the l^ll7 ™ " ""' ■><» ''■»• voice, her phenomena. All Is .f *°1, 'T ""* «=°™ «» ''» »ponse will come-thl Z till/ i™ ^^ °^""^' ""'' ""« «" will not deceive. There LI'T'* "f "^*'' I'l'«°°'"er,on ™eet. It is a reveMo" sooC. ."^ '•* ""■"" ""'* °''"'" Such is the law or princin e 7 ' "' f "' '"'"»'"'^''- rably is it adapted tJtheZ^ «™f '""'™- ^ow admi- cuuot conceiv^ of towL^ w^'u 7°'^"™^ ' ^« amve at a general truth, what truth 1 u "' '"'™'' ""''' ■f we could not arrive a "t in th ™ """'= »*■' ""d of observation, however xt^i'' "^' " ^". b.v any process Nature, or the'authorof naTuh'as™''' "! "™ «' "? ™tly for us. By the n r„ cinr' , ?'*'"' ™«™ differ. y tae principle we have been considering we ;:l lif ;J 178 INTKLLKCT. get general views from partieular observations. The luiiul takes possession at once of a truth from a very few instances, it may be, of its exemplitication. And it is possessed with more certainty, pcrliaps, than if we had gone through the whole range of ex[)eriment and observation, were that possible. For in the one case we have an unerring intuitive law of mind to depend upon ; in the other, wo could not be certain that in such a nuiltiplicity of observations we had rot in any one in- stance been mistaken. The observing power may have grown dim or weary in the vast exercise to which it was subjected But here a few observations which have not fatigued, which have been accurately and certai:ily made, open up the whole vista through which we would otherwise have had to travel, and cuuld never have travelled. Nay, at ihe end of our obser- vations, could we reach an end, we would be as far from our point as ever ; for what certainty could we have that new cir- cumstances might riot arise, might not intervene, and so render useless every observation we had made ? But by this principle we know that no new circumstances can modify the case or law in point. Though we had made a universal induction of every fact tliat can be known, what information would this give us with regard to the future ? it would only tell us of the present or the past. The future would still be an uncertainty. But this principle is prophetic ; it not only ranges over all co-exist- ing plienoraena of the same kind, but it tells us that the future will be as to-da3^ It predicts the future with the same cei- tainty that it tells us of the present. We confidently look forward to the same phenomena, the same results, as 've have already observed or ascerttiined. What puiposes of life does not this principle subserve ? Without it life would have been too short for tiiose inductions which \vould otherwise have been necessary to give us a well- ascertained fact, or principle, or law ; and, as we have seen, no induction, however extensive, would have given us this, for still we wouW have been able to affirm only with reference to the l)ast, and would have had no certainty with reference to the future. Generalization takes the future into its own hand. INTKLLe(X "'"' a. "Ot as laws, bnt a cntm? ° ''"' ""'^'' '■™il'" to traJo, or to be fbllo^d i„ t ™ ""JT-'" "^ *^'»' '" >"« »oty blacksmith never h^Jrf'Lt ''- '"'trumcnts. The h« JW not observe it wherinl'r'T."';''""™"-''. ^"^ " f .« his arm, brawnj „s u 17 He7 ,'"'"'°"-''' "' ™"W though it has not fikon he sneeffi / '"'^^'i " S^-^^fction, Pmctieal observation uL' 1^1 °™ ""^ » '''''• "'"y a Shrewd inductions harbeenri T'^''"'" «■»«. "■Pyosed to be done than to f^l '° """"'"S """^ «■» ■■» of superior sagaci y ^ i ° t*? t^^ J^ f^P«™n«. The CTor th,at ,nav be tnr„» „,• ' """^tion of life, what- "u'y the p.,rtLdrr„ xtrrd*" r t"°' ^"^* - «fod upon or improved, con.tS » T v"'"' '" '""'"S ">«» ''' -' ™'- -- -' rro;-^^^^^^^^^^ 180 INTELLEC!'!'. Generalization is a principle of the mind, — that is, the mind proceeds to generalize in certain circumstances in spite of itself. We are no sooner brought into such and such circumstances than we generalize. It is on this principle that all our general conclusions are founded, — maxims of conduct, as well as rules of trade, or laws of art. We form principles of conduct, as observed in their effects, without reference to the abstract prin- ciples from which they may more properly spring, or with which they may more properly be connected. We may look at actions from the separate points of view of their abstract prin- ciples of right or wrong, or their effects on the loorld. Moixims are formed, for the most part, upon observations taken from the latter point of view. Maxims are generalized observations. The minor virtues, and the principles which guide us in the business and pursuits of life, are seldom taken up to the higher source of abstract principle, but are drawn from observations and experience. The common proverbs, which are character- istic of a place or a nation, or belong to the species, are founded upon experience. What gives us the proverbs concerning the weather,? Generalizations of a familiar and everyday kind and use. Classification often proceeds upon generalization, though in many cases it would seem that we classify merely as we observe instances or particulars of agreement. It wouic^, not seem to need any exercise of the generalizing principle to classify all mineral substances under one head, all animals under another, and vegetables under another ; but the term generalization has been extended even to this act of classification. We are dis- posed to think that the peculiarity of generalization consists in detecting some law or cause at work in certain cases or in- stances of observed similarity, and confidently counting upon that law in all such cases, and in all future time. For example, certain minerals are observed to occur in certain strata, in a certain relation to other strata ; that they will always be found in such strata is a generalization, and depends upon the prin- ciple which we call by that name. Now, this is something different from merely classifying a mineral, as coal, or lime- INTELLECT'. 181 f . 181 certei,, provisions for the „ur„l f • • ™'='°''''' »'■'' "i* J„ivor„„s, -ge„or:tKje„rSth''1 ''^^' "'^ of animals under the name of thl ^^e classification t'-ey belong, as quadrupeds htfs\T"\ "7^"''' *^ "^^^ generalization depends merd vS ! '' '^'' *'• ^^« «"« ti-e other upon tlie priSe '^ ^f'''''^'^ resemblance^ dered. In the latter Jhr 1 ^ '^'"^f^^*'^^' already consi- treating of the law of tTe mid , 'f -T °^^^^'^^^' ^^^^ ^^en blance, we regarded it as « at n "^ t-'^ ^^ ^''^'^'^ ^^^em- ceeded; but we then remark rth"f'^ generalization pro- than a perceived resemblance fb ' T «°°^«thing more we have endeavoured trexl;?'; Tu^'' P"""?^^ -hich to consist in the detectln ^1" T T '^^^ '''' ''^^ prediction that such a cause wTi T' ^"^ *^« '''^^^^ ^vhen it will be attended Lt '^' ^' ^^'^"^ '-^^ ^o^Ic, Classification, therefore, t dill' f"'''''""^ '^''' '' '^''''^ upon a irerceived resemU,m» tl,„ • P^weds merely nation, sail, even txT^ri^^l » T^"'^' "" e^™"" conai»te in the application o;'„eJt! ^7''""°"' ^ " or qualities wliich have eomJhT • *" °''J'* »■■ being" stance ofresemhlance ore 15"!'" ""°"°"' "'' " ™""- ™hsta„ces resembling faTrtail™' T f """ '° «'■"'"» "■• "Pplied to the circumstanLl T- r''™'"". »" *= aese circumstances. tL r ss 1 T '"'■^"'' "" """^ ^''-''le in nothing further, or ft mav be T T,™^ '^ """"'=="«' «* la«- of which w iJe "11,?^ ™* """ f'^'P'" « oomprehension undir afu^lVt"' "'"' "'"'"'' '<»«'« ^ » .ne« resemblance The t^mM ''r/°' ""P""'' "P"" » »u»e,a„d thatcanse nrfST ''"*.*° ■"'°'' «» ™"= oteerving mi„d the certair "f\f °P™"°"' »™'es to the ";^::^:fr:tr?"^^^^^^^ 182 INTRLLECT. ill the case of every such animal, that it will he cfirnivoroiir. So with nmny of our general terms, they ile])en(l upon a gen j- ralization, strictly speaking. Certain strata of the earth have uniformly been observed in certain relations or positions : the generalizing process or law of the raind, or principle, gives m a cause, or supposes some cause in operation, and we afHrm with the utmost confidence that these strata will always be found so situated ; or we call these strata by a certain name because they are so found. Certain temperaments of body are found in connexion with certain conditions of health and developments of disposition : they are connected with some tixed cause, and we have the classification accordingly of the lymphatic, the nervous, and the sjxnguincous temperaments, and their corresponding indications in health or disposition. Clapsificati(;n simply, that is, whether it proceeds upon merely felt or perceived resemblances— or depends upon the generaliz- ing princii)le— emi^loys and demands general terms. The mind is led by an inevitable law and necessity to classify, and general terms are its imitlement or means by which this is done. Even wore we not inventing or employing general terms, tlie classifi- cation might exist in our own minds, but it would not be available for the purposes which man has in view. Of what use would it be to classify for ourselves, and to have no language by wliich the classification should be designated ? The great purposes of classification, and of general terms b\- which wo indicate the classification, is to serve the practical ends of life. A still wider purpose of utility opens up to us in this aspect or application of the principle of generalization. What would language be if we had no general terms ? How limited, or how cumbrous ! Had every individual a diistinet name, when should our vocabulary be completed, and how could we master our vocabulary ? Proper names aie so called because they are the names of individuals ; and it is necessary to have these ; because the law of identity is not lost in the law of similaiity, and we have need often to recognise individualr- in their iden- tity, or individuality. Hence John, Thomas, Tiondon, Paris. But i>r()|)('i' names, or nouns, are very few in comparison with INTELLKCT. 183 of beinff is unhoiinrlp,! m i, ""''''*' "" ^^ith tjie universe rioii"tra:rx7:L;ir:ir!r '- *-* - hereditary ohar- rter a thT 7,' " *" "' ""''«"' "'"1 n>ai„tai„^d Zt. VS^^' :*;7*" ^^''^'^ -e™, every gen,, or .peeieChad a r:.:.:*; t"gf:r wm ■! 184 INTELLECT. species, existed af*art from the individual objects atDong which the resombhinco which occasioned tlio general term was found. It was not merjly a resemblance or circumstance of agreement that was detected. There were universal forms, universal sub- stances, universal qualities — where they were was no doubt more difficult to determine — but that tliey really existed was not to be disputed, on the pain of the fagot or the dungeon. It was not strange that such a doctrine should find some opponents even at the risk of martyrdom. Not that the doc- trine was so vital as to call for martyrdom, perhaps, except with those who, like Galileo, would maintain that a false doc- trine was false, at all hazards. Free inquiry is not to be rei)resscd, and the stamp of Galileo's foot upon the ecrth, with the utterance " still it moves," was the challenge to the whole conclave of bishops and cardinals to do their worst. Roscilinus, himself a theologian, impugned the doctrine. " He disputed the universal a parte, ret." He had the boldness to attack this favourite and most nondescript entity or existence. He held that there was no such entity or existence. He doubtless had never seen " a universal a parte rei." It had never crossed his path. No such shadowy being had ever come within his view, or challenged his inspection. He saw only objects or qualities —not the universals, of wiiich these were but individual examples. Existing nowhere in heaven or earth that he could perceive or imagine, were those universal forms, genera, species ; and his observation, doubtless, extended as far as that of his opponents. He had undoubtedly the advantage of his opponents; for he could challenge them to sh(>w him "a universal a parte rei," which he had never seen for himself, and appeal to their own consciousness if they themselves had ever been so fortunate. The famous Abelard— whose passion for Eloise lives still in Po; e's exquisite lines— was the pupil and abettor of Roscilinus. The question grew ; and now might be seen armies determining the nice question at the point of the sword. There was something real in the mode of determining the question, at all events, and a stroke of the sword would icmind the Nominalists that names were not everything ; but U: il INTELLECT. 185 a prcsnion that the truth mii.t 1,. ' ""™'> "' """n "le ira- .loctrine from wl.ich „t a- - '""^ "" "'""^ °'- a n.„,„ent euspecttag th„t S " t """'."Pp-te. without for .«.,.hatb„th'o.tro'm«n °b^™ „7J';";"«^^^^ of the Iteah-sts had been heU Z 7T^ , ^'"^ ''°°'"°« oouidihi„kabuTwtrh:7:'"„''r;'r!' *■" "- "i"" typo without if,elf ke J„ ' ". """'"'^ "' P™*"" Uieory, could think about ri' ''"'« '" ""= ""■n™" it. own ideas. ZlTZVj T'T''' "'"■■ ""'""^ b-' matter of ,.„e.^ Jit Vh'ltr'tl*™""'"' '" «"' idea ofwben general terms r,:e:pl'^ther'"'' '"'I '" a mountain, for example, was spofen rf? Tf . T' " *""• or tree, or mountain, wo^ n3 thef th ''^'.P**'^"'" ■■!'<»•, "as that river, or t«, or mountah fit" f' °' "'""S'" ri«r, or tree, or mountain, bTZto of a„Vl V".". ■"*•"" appellative be generic and „1,^ .? ' ?^ '^' ""'"a™ or thoughts, wbatdoes the at If the" :; "'''T' "' *" '"'"^■» represent ? It does not reL '° ""= P"'""'''"- «« e4!rn,T („ »t-?P'^'*™'«°3'actoal object or existence external to the mjnd and perceivable bv .«.„«•? existence without the mind ? hT , ^'" '' "" doctrine was that it h,d 1 \ f ""' "» Prototype ? The independent'of «^ S 'in?""' ""' " '"■' '" ''"■"»»=« it «s thought that what IW ,T °' "''"'^ S''™"' " *=«. cl« in oom'mon ;„: a th^t"3!^^^^^^^^^ f '"''"^' "^ '^^ notanobiectofsen*. „„ . • , '""' "=''^«. and though indcpendin, aftlTob'ieZ S °''"'™' °' '•'^ "''■'^> ■'"'J - Adopted by ttl cl oolmen 1 "'' ,"' f *" ™' "^ P^^P*"- and not „n^ irXe L'b be * f ""'" "' ^™'»"''. '--ehe„,,aswer::tr:;;:;rtb:^:it-::: ISG INTELI-ECT. i y,i '' I ol" gonoml ideas, or those itleaw indicated by general terms : ^vo mean by tlieir real existence, the existence of that which cou- stitntcd, or was thought to constitnte, in ev y case, the essence of the indivichials of a chiss as individuals of that class. That essence was called in the peculiar language of the schools, " a universal a parte rei." The Nominalists contended that there was no such essence apart from the individuals, and that in tho matter of general terms the object of ouf thought was still the individual; only, we had given a name to all individuals agree- ing in possessing the same property or characteristic. A general term was a mere term, not even ikmotimj a circumstance of ngrccmrvf, but a term which, applicable to an individual, might bo extended to every individual which had the same properties or chiu-acteristics which that term was originally invented to express. The term tree, for example, did not express any cir- cumstances of agreement in a class of individual objects, but was the name given to an individual, and was in time extended to all objects ciaicurring in tlie same properties. The same with river, mountain, quadruped, and any other general term. This opinion was maintained with great acutencss and ability on the part of its supporters, but was mrt with the keenest opposition from the Realists, enlisting even fJl the rancour of njligious animosity both in favour and against it. It has gained supporters even in modein times, while the doctrine of the Realists has sunk into merited oblivion, or rather is regarded with astonishment or ridicule, as it is viewed with one or another sentiment of the mind, as we contemplate it seriously, or regard it in a somewhat sportive vein. The " tmiversal a parte rei" has disappeared with the equal absurdities of a former age, or former ages. Tlato, and y^ristotle, and the schoolmen, have no followers in this tenet of their philosophy ; nor do the thunders of the Church now help to maintain it. Armies are no longer enlisted on its side, nor do princes and potentates contend in its favour. Nominalism, liowever, has obtained its adlierents at the present day, and among these we find tln^ brightest names in i)hilosophy, such as Berkeley and Btewavt. It would lie an endless task to follow out or discuss all the INTKLLKC'T. 187 opinions of philosophers on every mihiorf H.,.f itisH„fficienttonoticc^Xt2ion ' ""T '"'""*'' °" «^'''^- fomourownindependnt^J^Z'Ti^^^^^^^ to bo connected with certai 1 vlw on the U TT '''""' and also with pecuh-ar views resp c in the n "' 1 ^'"^"'=^' Nominalim., iadc-d mn«f ,1 f ° P'''''^'' ^f reasoning. Which 8tew;.;t!:21'tl„ri'"V'""'''^^ common nouns Eitli,,r it J, f, * "' ''PI»II'>'i''cs or -n indivl.,„a,, and'.i;! 1 ;::.'; Z fnj* f ? """^ '" .».lism i, n, true. ,r , 'V"''''!''?' » "•""">' <"' Nomi* N.^, is i. » th,.'j;; :„:::, z:„frL°: r ^""■'""• <•'■ tho nan,o „f ,u, individual ? No d„ul,r,„ ''"?"""' worn th,« f„™„a; but even witlf^^'^™' Zf "T"' '™" liecame gcrjcral terms tl,m, . , "**"' "''"■' 'hoy lint what 8i«ll bT^id ,f'tL" t " " '."''■"« "'■"S'--™.. h«vo had but for thi»t „;,..""'' !'"* "" ^""M ■'"■" ^-•M..«io„.a.e,i„,„?: rjirNX i^^rv''''' can we say perception of u-reen,ent ihvT' ^/'^'^ ^I'^^^uig, P-Iy applies to External ol ^cr Wc ,1 i'^k'" ""'"' ^'■" oftheniatteris, tlwu the nl d isfiZ ' '^" I'^'oper view in this sense) the a-a-eom .n. Z,'' '"'^""''^ ^^'' P^^ceive "i-l or perceived, the na.rd S i^ Jf" ^"T " ""^'- <^r perceived resemblance Dr K In °^ ''ecogrused .oseniblance. We confess u A '''^'' '* " ^'^'^""g ^^ -i tl'« mi,.d altogether to a otho f ^' ^'^ """^''^^ ^'''"'^ Phenomena. VVc> do .'.ot ll /'''^'''"^^^^"^ ^^ *''« ^nental nn'lKoidspakeof. Jo .]'''' '""'•''' '^''' ^•'"^" ^-^ko -*• the Sinn Htv elir " ',"' "" ^^'*^ ""^ resen.blunce, or idea as dist l^t^V^^^^^ ^^^^^^ *'-^ they regarded ti.at -ough, allow of ;;::;:r;!^:;r\.]?'^;^^ 'f "".lorstood in theion^c d" t e n d'o i t" 'T'"^'^''^ --i-'on.e.e.odr_;:r'5n;:;;:;r:r^r'" ll.s 188 INTELLECT. sense, the doctrine of the Conceptualists is not open to the objection which Dr. Brown brings against it. The doctrine of the Gonceptualistf, as opposed to both the Realists, and more immediately the Nominalists, is, that general terms are the re- sult ofgemral i(kas, these general ideas being founded upon resemblance among objects or qualities. We would not have general terms but for these ideas. Certain substances agree in possessing certain properties, and we call them minerals ; others in possessing certain other properties, and we call them vege- tables ; and again, others in possessing the property of life, and we call them animals; all in possessing certain still more generic properties, and we call them substances. Could these terms ever have been invented without the general idea attach- able to all substances, to all animals, to all vegetables, to all minerals ? Noio, this general idea is the object of the mind lohen loe^ employ a general term. And hence the name Conceptu- alists. With them there was no real thing independent of the mmd, and apart from the resembUng objects or qualities ; but the resemblances among the objects or qualities «?ave us the general idea— the idea of substance— the idea of life— the idea of vegetation— the idea of mineral existence, and the term was invented to express each several idea. Again, with them the process was not, naming individuals, and then applying the name given to all individuals exhibiting the same characteristic properties, which is the theory of the Nominalists, with whom accordingly, strictly speaking, the object of a general term was' an individual, and the term alone was general, or it became general by its appropriation ; but the agreement or resemblance was perceived before the general term was invented, and the object of the term ivas the circumstance or feature of agreement or resemblance. This may not have been invariably the case, but objects are for the most part seen in groups, and they would not be named singly ; a name would be employed as applicable to objectb thus seen, and observed to resemble, and reference undoubtedly would be had to the agreement or resemblance. Dr. Brown takes excei)tion to the phrase, general idea, and holds that we have no such idea, that there can be no such idea; but INTELLECT. , ^^ TO liave a feeling of resemblance ; there is a fcl. > .• , relation of reso™blanee, and we call a I'l-J* "tr "■" name or term amonff whiVK fK„* 1 1- J^^^^ '^y the same with Dr. Brown only wfththl If'^ '''''''■ ^^ ^^^^^ believe anythingUreCJatnr^^ *'^' "^ ^« -^ and that our pers^LToH Tn 'P^"''' "^^^^^^ i^^/' more * ^ ^ ''' *^' Conceptudiste meant nothing the .ind and 41^:1^:^^^:^^:^^^^^^^^^^^ a resemblance existed • thpra h„ i, , ^ ^° ^^^^h fte general tern, istat'a t™ tSn^".*"" t° ,'''" *"' das, of resembling i„divid„.i".?:f' *°" """ to these dive,.itie,, it is th gemrand Tt "' " ''"' "''J""' pod ; but having observed ev™;'artionhr of ""n ' ''"'»''™- can be detected and s„^- F , " "' '^^""•''moo 'hat certain cCbl\rn?ag:usl'rrr .^^-^ ^-"' » a...wecomet„TZ:te:nr:^-:-tS?. • Dr. Brown snrely does not sinn.Iify he„,atterwhe„ hoc-alls it, not an id„,^ uta fooling of agreement." Either thiH (ochng is something or it is nothing If.t.8_son„.thing, then is it anything n.o,-e simple or intelligible than a gene ral idea, or an idea of agreement ? For tiiegonerttl idea is not understood to be anything more than an idea of „g,eo. ment, or resemblance, in certain parti, cuiars or characteristics. wwif riiiiit iim INTKLLKOT. accordingly, is not a species, but a genus, and the summuiu genus, as it is called. The genus animal, for example, is a species in relation to being in general, and hemj is tlie sum- mum genus, there being none higher. The generalizing process is one of great moment with respect to the other processes of mind. It proceeds, as we have seen, upon a perceived resemblance, and where there is nothing more than the perceived resemblance, it is properly only classification ; but it may depend upon the generalizing principle, that prin- ciple by which we not only classify objects according to observed resemblances, but these resemblances are made the basis of a classification according to another resemblance, not, it may be, directly perceived. Foi' instance, we say that certain animals are predatory, or live upon .prey, from an observation of parti- culars altogether apart from the actual seizing of their prey ; and this latter observation may never have been made by tiie naturalist, who nevertheless proceeds as confitlently in his classitication as if he had seen tlie animal making the spring, or tearing the vitals of its victim. It was by such a process that Cuvier made tliose wonderful classifications which asto- nished the scientific world, and gave a new method tor ascer- taining the age of the earth. This, combining with the rigid observations of geology, laid the foundation of a new science, viz., pala3tiology as applied to the earth. Fi'om the bones of certain animals Cuvier was able to tell their habits and their structure ; and the conclusion was, that no such animals could exist under the present economy of the earth, and that they must belong to a poiiod anterior to the world's present exist- ence. Geologj may almost be said to have grown out of this observation. What an important generalization, then, was here, and how important the classification to which it led ! But generalization is the great purveyor, if we may so speak, to the faculty or process of reasoning. It provides the materials of that i)rocess, and to the analysis of the process, as involved in the principle of deduction, we now direct ouriselves. oak. 'N'TliLLiJoT. 191 Deduction. ■^p^^:^'Xzz:^si;::f:'i •■ otect ,M,st havo a cause, a,„l wo pi d ^ S "'"'.^'J' cause,; t.e „™ci,,Io„,,„«,,„,i„,^P Mta by .1,^""; °' tlie conv,ct,o„, tlie intuitive conviction Z- "'"'''-'™'>' mi observed ..henomonon .,m„ ' '" ""■>' ™» »*' ti,at can. .Lt LiTf r:e7;::er:: cV-r*' "-^ "-" into a law or fact: the ,»ineil T,I , , ^ ^^^^ "'■ generalize i..« .0 which, fron, wi.aVrt :tt;rw::ftrnf same must be true of ,.i.„n- :, r ■ , , T' ^> '""' *e obtain our reas™Ls_ "? ';""" °' """ '^'' "■"' « this a ,„i..cip,e™ 5 esT d ve Z rT""""' ■''°"- " the mind ? Is it „„t hfee a tt m .^s !'lt wt T'''"' "'' a c ass must bo true of „,. ,■ ■ , ''^ "' "'"'' " "™ "'' - -ce to this i:\:„:^rzr;" ;: I'e "* r ■: . '" of classes; or indivichnls ,nnvY , *''f ^'^^^'^ arc two kinds w^s, eit,;. b, cii^Sri^rt w '"'" ;• ''-■' ^° ^^^ have made the distinoHr ]T ^' ^ ^'"'''■^^'^^*^°«- We «enerali.atio„;^4 r^rm :Tjr:i: ^T"-- "' term tree all object:"^ l" t^Lrr 'T"^'' ""^ i»tis; cSt elmew;"'-. «'* <"'*™'l d'aractcr- tl..,ienemenXe.t:rC.:refhI^ characteristics „f these phen !„:* B^t t tl """f ™ we sc„erali.c in the pr^r nl," o. of ft T "'"" generalization we veu urc uno ! S f ■ " """ one eta of ii^ts fron "nXr e ;^ of fhcT ™' °' '" '"'" i. truly a prediction : we^iiirrs" tl „gt CerX" '' wlucli we have merely once it n>av 1.. . r ! *''"'' Mhepas. Ko,„fthre:p::tttVrTinr^^^^^^ 'aMifeA>fe-aaaKytjA|||h|ljjg^^ i 192 INTKLLECT. tion, where no generalization properly speaking is implied, where we have nothing more than a class of resembling objects or phe- nomena,— to assert of a class, is already to assert of every indi- vidual of the class, and to affirm of the individual of a class what is true of the class to which it belongs, is nothing more than to re^teat of the individual what had virtually been affirmed of it as one of a class. But in respect to every individual of a generalized truth— every particular exemplification of it— it is to a principle of the mind that we owe our conclusion. We do not merely repeat a truth respecting an individual which we have already affirmed when we announced the general truth under which it comes, but we infer the individual from the general truth. Every individual instance of a generalized truth is not like one of a class of truths, but the individual truth depends upon the generalized truth. The generalized truth gives you the particular truth— the particular truth could never have been had without the general truth. But how is this the case when we get the general truth from a particular observation of it, or from the observation of it in a particular instance ? But do we really get the general truth from the observation of it in a particular instance ? No, we do not ; we get it from the generalizing principle. Even the particular exemplification of the truth is not a truth to us till we have ma^ the generalization. Even the very truth of the particular instance is involved in the generalization : it may have been an accident ; it may not have been an exemplification of a general truth, but the generalizing principle enables us to per- ceive a general truth or law, of which the particular instance under observation is an exemplification ; and then it is no ac- cident, it is the exemplification of a principle or law of which there will be other instances besides this, but of which this is one. Now, with respect to every future, every particular, in- stance or exemplification of a general truth or law, it is obvious that the truth of that particular instance or exemplification depends upon the general truth or law which we have arrived at by the generalizing principle. We could not affirm its truth otherwise. We could not affirm of a man that he is mortal INTELLECT. 193 because wo have all /" ^ mortal: the general imJh ^!'''''*^'^'? *^« truth that mm is ralization is, fsT^LrrlfteT " ^ ' r^^"' ^^^ ^-- individual or plrticllrt? -f '^ '^ *^^* generalization b or truth, ZttZ oT "' '"" "^"^ ^/-i>.o^o.^Wo. ^ee. ...;f. «ii^ t;:.r ^ei :rj:' ^n^- ^^ '-- of a general, or an individual out of « i t ^^'^''''^^' °^* particular because of a genem' we affi ^?' ^' ^^ "^^"^ ^ individual because we c^uTd^ffi f ™ ^ *™*^ ^^'P^^^^^g ^« do I know that anv bnl ,f '^ '' '"'^''^^^ ^ «^^«- How IsitnotobvbuslPTnSe: th^^*^*^.*^^ *^^ -*^ ^ of gravitation ? A gen lu^^^^^ T ^'^^^P^^ °^ ^^^ but it is a general tS in '' ""'^ ^ ^^'''^ ^^ ^^t^s, in particular Zta^^^^^ ^n consequence of which we affirm it divided or paS d 0^ \> '^ "'^ ' '^^'^ ""^''^ ^"^ ^^ tate to the earth • thTnSrf , ''' *^'* ^" ^^^'^^ g'-avi- ;viii g-itat;t th:tr ^^^^^^^ '' ^^«; *^^«^o^^ former? Does it tint ™.i . „ ''' '' ™ '"'tor rootasBeo! « the «pon it ? iZw tl twrh?".^"'" ■'- "' ■^'^ '* ■"" depend cause I know thlTthT ™ ^l"" "'" ?™*"' '" «« "'»"'. te- enabfea .e totetT ittlhtirnr'S;::';;' "'"'^ " • " of asserting a coneral trnt), tl, 7 , ™ " " ™}'' "deed, or m^^£^o^^77t^^^il:\^f':' '"' P""- ™'»ce For instance, when I snv Iw " n *"« °°' ""'' "f" «'<««■ "John i, mirtal™! affirm ° T t T "■" °'"""'" ""-^ "dJ, " »"' is mortal," or that « ml^?l ■ ^ ' """^ ' '"' *"' -d then add. that « .1 is" ? "^^^i:^^'' la 194 INTELLECT. mortal," because I can affirm that " man is mortal," or that " humanity is subject to mortality ;" and the latter mode of stating the general truth is the correct one. John, in the latter instance, is not one of a class oi' mortals, but he possesses that nature of which we have generalized the truth, that it is sub- ject to mortality. How rl'> we count with certainty upon indi- vidual instances of conduct, and the results flowing from these ? In other words, how do we arrive at moral certainty, but be- cause of generalized principles of conduct ? Not because this or that act is one of a number, but because of the nature of the act itself We have a general principle in reference to this kind of action, or line of action, and, in virtue of that principle, we assert, regarding any one instance of that line of action, that it will be attended by certain consequences. How do we believe in honesty, and yield it our unhesitating confidence ? Is it not because of a generalized principle in regard to it ? Does any one case of honesty coaimand our confidence, because it is one of a class ? Is it the plurality that gives us the singu- lar ? Or is it not the principle that allows its application ? And if it is the latter, as undoubtedly it is, then there is a deduction from a general truth c principle to a case in point — from a general to a particular. Such we take to be deduction. We maintain there is a difference between bringing an indivi- dual out of a class, possessing the characteristics of that class, and inferring or affirming a particular truth from a general principle. In the one case it is merely a process of numbering or identifying — in the other, it is inference or deduction. The two states of mind are very different. Having determined the nature of a flower, a shrub, a tree, we say this is a flower — this is a shrub — this is a tree. That is not reasoning, properly speaking. It is reasoning, when we infer, not merely identify, or take out of a number. To say this is a quadruped, because it belongs to the class of quadrupeds, — that would not be reason- ing; it is merely enumeration or identification. The differ- ence between classification and generalization is one of great importance to our subject. It is a distinction which has not been enough noticed or attended to. It is undoubtedly owing iNTBI.LRCT. 19.5 to this that such oonfusoil „„ i • reference .„ deduction a„1 toirT- ""''""' l"-™" '•> l-e the true process of iaTo'i,^. "■» 7' »«■" ■« Purporting ,o elass is a number of hdwS. ] ^' ;"'*'"' """ •>«"'« » pwess of the mind „Ct' .°u''°° ™""°' '«' » '^ -gnising the truth, la;; L:;:d'orfer"-" '™' """■ mdmduals of that class It ^11 . ,u "' '" ""^ "^ ">« tional process of .he mi'd ; nor is ttf th 1 ""' " ""' ''^*- t»t,o„ of dedncion-in other lords f d'^^" 'T "'""^"- to drawing inferences in resnectT'- "'.'^f?'"'"'" ^<= ^nflned individnala of a Cass me^ if ir wf 1'^ ,!^" ^''-' - foundation of Mill's objection tnlh ,, • '"'' '"^'' »' "'e tive reasoning. Mill is the " ^ *^°'' °' '" ''«'"=- fogism as : process Tf ItoZ Zt "r^"' ■"' "«■ the ablest exponent of the view« 7^,^; ! '""J'-estionably He takes an original view inde^ •'!;,'?' "t "f *>•" 1«ion »ud Campbell, and Stewart and R ',"''•'"'■ ^'" !'»«>=<•. tially the sam'e ground vL that 7".' "'* '" " ^ ^™- i» al,^dy contoed IZo gtlrll' ."'• "' *= P"*"'" be educed by a process T " ""'"^ '"' '' The syllogism i„„„,,^{^-^--^^.n *» general premiss. Sencral premiss the trnth sum,,««7, T u ' "'"""o' '" 'he '" the conclusion. D duc2 then ''™""'" "" "' <'*"ood zoning What reasoning tHln^'thrr' P™""' "^ ™- ->■■ Mil. consistently c^jLti:^;' '' 11;,^^:". '» 2m- 196 INTELLECT. plied in gcneralizalion. His representation of the matter is this : — " The proposition that the Duke of Wellington is mortal, is evidently an inference." He allows it to be so ; and his inquiry is, Whence is it obtained ? " Do we," he says, " in reality conclude It from the proposition. All men are mortal ?" The other objectors to the syllogism would say, It is not con- cluded from it, — it is contained in it. M'.ll says it is contained in it, if the syllogism bo " considered as an argument to prove the conclusion." But he allows it to be an inference ; " it is got as a conclusion from something else." And to the question, " Do we in reality conclude it from the proposition. All men are mortal ?" he answers No. " The error is," he says, " that of overlooking the distinction between the two parts of the process of philosophizing, — the inferring part and the register- ing part,— and ascribing to the latter the function of the former. The mistake is that of referring a man to his own notes for the oHgin of his knowledge. If a man is asked a question, and is unable to answer it, he may refresh his memory by turning to a memorandum which he carries ihoni with hira ; but if he were asked how the fact came to his knowledge, he would scarcely answer, because it was set down in his note-book, unless the book was written, like the Koran, with a quill from the wing of the angel Gabriel, " Assuming that the proposition, The Duke of Wellington is mortal, is immediately an inference from the proposition, All men are mortal, Vv'hence do we derive our knowledge of that general truth ? No supernatural aid being supposed, the an- swer must be. By observation. Now all which man can observe are individual cases. From these, general truths nmst be r.rawn, and into these they may be again lesolved, for a general truth is but an aggregate of particular truths, — a comprehensive expression, by which an indefinite number of individual flicts are affirmed or denied at once. But a general proposition is nv~"t merely a compendious form for recording and preserving on the memory a number of particular facts, all of which have been observed. General, zati on is not a process of mere naming, — it is also a process of inference. From instances which we INTBLLKCT. 197 ofcorved, together with all that wo bfe™! "*,"' ">™ m ono concise exDreHninr, • .„ i i T °'" ouecrrations, .ion, for making r:S"X''nc:t°rf """ ™'™"- are compressed into ono short sentcnl ""™'™ '»««■ Tho^ra^drer'o.rerT''"'''' '™"' ""^ •'"* ""°"° »'l ease the'cxpertoem had h f ■? """ ""'"^ "' » "hoso Wellington^ CtaMiko tl,» '/"'' """ "'^ ^uke of 'hrough thegone2 t armr'ar::?^ '"""" "'"' mcdiato rfage- hut it i« n, , ^ , °'"'^' "^ "" 'n'er- the descent Iro'n, ^5 1 ^re D.Vot W "Ir °' '"^ ^™«' .•»/««cc resides. The infe ence tfi Y1 °^°' """ ""^ »««« that all men art mo fe, "wtff*'". "''™ " have merely deciphering onr owT^te, " ™™ '^''"''"'» '» been arrived at in the genemlilliol ,, "i""".'''" ™""'"J' Duko of Wellington if „ , f u ""'^ ""'«• That the whenweconSSTrmrnn'rof^or' IT" ""^'■'^«'' all men are mortal ■' Thl :„f • ^"^"^ "'»'«°«» «"at a^rted that all men arfmotlr °S " T""^ "'''" ™ '"''^ would be at issue with MiTlT, in „I ' !.' ''°''" "' "'''''> "« general tn,th arrived at bv he'nr * ^ g^^neralization, or «on,ameremem„3tdTr.°:hT*''°'«r"^'-- i» merely deciphering our own note^' "'■.^V™'""' """""'» a tme account of the matter Th, 7 °°' ''™ '" ■"= were, repeated in everv imtt f Se^erahzation is, as it say, 18 the peculiarity in evcrv instZr 7' ™'^' "o "ould .--. o,.o/„ .»L.,^!-;t:;^^cS;^ 198 INTKLLECT. case: there is truly a new generalization in order to tliat case, or before we can assert the proposition in that case. There ia nothing like the reference to a memorandum. Let us transfer the case to ourselves. How do we know that we are moitaj and count with certainty upon our death at some time or other ? Does not the generalization take place anew in our minds ?— and is there not an application of the generalization to ourselves i Mortality is inseparable from the possession of humanity: it is inseparable from me: why? because I am I)088e8sed of that humanity. Is this a reference to a memor- andum ? Is this deciphering one's notes ? Why do we use the word therefore in such a case ? All men are mortal • therefore I am mortal. There is manifestly a process of mind distinct from generalization: what is that process? We call It deduction, or genei-alization in order to a par- tiaular. According to Mill, there can be no inference whai- ever; for all infenence is, and must be, deductive. Even m generalization, so far as the inferring part of the process is concerned, it is deduction. We can never reason from a par- ticular to a particular. « Not only," says Mill, " may we reason from particulars to particulars, without passing throut^h generals, but we perpetually do so reason. All our earliest in- ferences," he says, " are of this nature. From the first dawn of intelligence we draw inferences, but years elapse before we learn the use of general language. The child who, having burnt his fingers, avoids to thrust them again into the fire, has reasoned or inferred, though he has never thought of the general maxim, fire burns. He knows from memory that he has been burnt, and on this evidence believes, when he sees a candle that if he puts his finger into (he flame he will be burnt again! He believes this in every case which happens to arise; but without looking, in each instance, beyond the presc:-t ca^e. He IS not generalizing; he is inferring a particular fr,n : :v. ticulars." Those who have already traced the progrct, ox the mind's ideas, and who have seen at how early a stage generali- zation must commence, or how soon the mind must be influ- enced by general and intuitive principles, will not accept the WTELLECT. 199 como to have if ^^m^v/uctp" wT' T "? " gonemi prmciple, th»t every effect must have Iclte A» ....top,a..Thel;K^i^^^^^ mto he m„.4, »„<, there i, genemlization hem. The ide, ray pam, but there is a cause of mv nam I'n ♦v,^ « undeveloced Tni !,„ tha generUmng proces,, however wm he allowed that .hen generic, ^l 1" C ij t lA. a mnicnar. Ihere le the generalmm vrinad^ m every instance of genemlimlion. We connectflr^t menon with a ^use, and we c^fldent^Ste the tit phenomenon in all dmikr cmumBtan J. Ther^conld ^2 Sttr-'T '"•' '".'■""^ °f ™* " P^cipleo 1 .iind toCuS "h n't "' "■ 'r""' -P«*»'»PerationTare in chUdhood . I^ut no generalization takes place without it No miBtake, it seems to us, could be "reater thu„ t„ ,i . wo re..on from particula.,, whether in inCtt ISv" « -o' In such cases we ^ aS C '""'; °' «=''™' -"™™- «.wa^ the effect „fa;SprZ3r*-:^rT„'" :e!:::;rerttt=f' .''■•^-""^"-""Ct- was there nottac ^ Z , '" °'"' °" ""^^ "''"""5' ? there was, doTe tt ZfiT"" T^"''''"" ^ »»<''' instance o .r ow^ca e afrln 1 °.™°'™' " <■» ™ "»' oxe»plif,iog soL T;; of di^dTaSdlr ^ ■f'"''^''' " providential nrran,remcnt» IS i ' °''' " ""^ >«. "f general ..aximsP-^rciithr '''™/'' «■« "^ff-t of persists m it, and with muoU k«o * n , "^^^^^S^*- But he .ion. refuting hi^^ai? tt J^Se [olt'tr 'f '■"■"'""- po.ed, and in his manner of luting the^ * "stances sup- thc village matron » he sav» -LI. u .. " """ ""'y tion upo? the case' of a"' ' hbi; IhM """^ '° ° ™™''"«- evil and its remedy simnlvl tZ ™"'.P''<»'»''nees on the what she accounts'thtTicLt^tw "°d"'''°'V v.lI.«o matron suppose some gencr^ o.l« ^' .,, "'' """ ""= :Si:::™rts£9f^-^^- guide onrleivosi/thTsarwr.tnr? IT *° ""' "^^ experience, and retain it, impZrfon, stronl ? "" '""'"'™ m this manner a very considlble pX oS^^^^^^ «* or genera, p^positions. tI s HeT-^^^r" ''".°"P''» reason. Call it what you please i .fT ?■ '''«™»'^"»* »f of the naind; let infcrLce ne":; otur blrir °r^^^^^^^^ agenen.1 truth or principle is iryrtheVronSTr^'i every conclusion of the mind The mind J ^ ""'' some general principle. Tht is tL '' ^ "P ^ feeli: Whate^ stTtes t^'ni^o ^prei'VIe™""*'"-; be a general proposition conveying a cenoral f r fi \ 5 niont Wo flipn fr«,>, ^u , fe^"^ra' "uth or state- nt. Wo then from the general statement assert the parti- 204 INTELLECT. cular, respecting which we wish to conclude. This may not be inference ; but if it is not inference, there is no inference what- ever. In generalization, it may be stated thus : Like causes will produce like eflfects : or a cause will be followed by its eiFect : there is a cause here : it will be attended by its effect ; it is now then a generalized truth, or phenomenon, or law. Like causes will produce liku effects : A cause must be in ope- ration in this instance, in which mercury falls in the Torricel- lian tube; the law of the barometer is already generalized. That is truly the process of the mind in generalization. In so far, therefore, as it is a process of reasoning, it is inference in no other sense than any other instance of reasoning is ; but in so far as it is an observation of nature, or of a phenomenon of nature, there is a new law or phenomenon arrived at. Do we deduce, or rather infer, our conclusion from the single instance, orfeio instances of observation ? Is it really these that give us our conclusion, or' is it the deductive process already traced ? If it is the latter, our conclusion is obtained in the same way as any other, even although a new law is thus added to the already ascertained laws of nature. So far as the argument then is concerned, it is deductive inference, and no other ; Sv far as it is an observation of physical phencraena, the inference applied to that observation, like an algebi c sign or formula applied to a quantity lohich may he put in v place, we get for our conclusion the physical phenomenon. It is necc-^sary then to remember, that all inference is de- ductive, and that, if deduction is no real process, there is no real inference whatever, and reasoning is a name and nothing more ; or it is going up from particulars to generals, and to still higher generals, till we come to the principles of the mind itself, in which, like the plant in the seed, all reasoning, all truth is folded. This may be the true account of the matter. Truth may lie in principles of the mind like the flower in the pod, or in that unity of which Coleridge speaks, which is before the seed itself, and is the law of creation, or the will of the Creator. The grand point to be attended to is the necessity of a gene- INTELLECT. 205 ral truth before we can arrive at a particular. Truth exists i„ pnncples, as things exist in classes. Nothing, is isolated n must all being The principles of the mind are the germs from which all truth intellectual, ..thetic, moral, religiLrevo^^" except such re igious truth as must hav 3 its revelation ablTa i rom these principles truth, ever enlarging, may expand TtlTe mnd. he circle may have no bounds, or circle may extend beyond cxrcle mdefinitely-ever new consequences mayTvelop themselve^new applications of all the subjects of thou' bl- and eternity may not see the limit, as undoubtedly it will not to the developments of truth ;-one principle or general ruth g.vmgoutanother-one particular truth combininglithanother -a new principle evolving from this-and so on infinitely* With some remarks upon induction and deduction their respective natures and merits, we shall close this subject. ?ri '\lJ^'yV'^^^^^^ saying of the famous Harvey quoted by Whewell in his '' Philosophy of the Inducti^^: Sciences, which comprehends in a brief sentence the respective provinces and precise characteristics of induction and deduction Harvey says,-« Universals are chiefly known to us, for science IS begot by reasoning, from universal to particulars; yet that very comprehension of universals in the understanding, springs - trom the perception of singulars in our sense." Whewell quotes these words from Harvey, to show that the doctrine held by Harvey "of science springing from experience, with a direction trom Ideas, was exactly that which Whewell himself " had repeatedly urged as the true view of the subject." Whewell'is at great pains to bring out, and insists much upon that part ot mduction, which consists not in the collection of facts merelv singulars in the sense," but their colligation by the concep- tions of our own m^nds-i\^^t is, the generalizations by which tlie facts are explained, and are hound together, as it were, \clop ludcfinitoly, is tt luuaraous to tlio Uivino minrl v ^ conjecture tliat all truth may be traced 200" INTKLLECT. ■si »! under some law or general phenomenon. " In each inference made by induction," says Whewell, « there is introduced some general conception, which is given not by the phenomena, hut by the mind. The conclusion is not contained in the premises but mcludes them by the introduction of a new generality. In order to obtiiin our inference, we travel beyond the cases which we have before us. We consider them as mere exemplifications of some tdeal case, in which the relations are complete and in- telligible." This is a true representation of the process of induc- tion ; and it is to be remarked, then, according to this view, that the inference is got by the introduction of some general con- ception, which is given not by the phenomena, but by the mind This 18 something very different, then, from the view that the inference is immediately drawn from the observed particulars and which would represent this to be the only kind of inference which we oan have, or which the mind ever makes « The conclusion," Whewell says, « is not contained in the premises (viz., the particulars in the observed case,) but includes them' by the introduction of a new generality." We think Whewell would have been more correct had he said that, what are gene- rally regarded as the premises in the induction, viz., the ob- served particulars, are the minor premiss merely, while the major premiss is the generalizing principle in the mind from ' which It is we obtain the new generality. « In order to obtain our inference," says Whewell, « we travel beyond the cases which we have before us. We consider them as mere exempli- fications of some ideal case, in which the relations are complete and intelligible." The observed particulars do not give us the inference. We consider them as mere exmipiificatlons of some ideal case. In other words, if we may venture to put an inter- pretation on Whewell's language, agreeable to the doctrine whicu we have already represented on the subject of induction or generalization :-We suppose a cause, and we consider the cases before us as exemplifications of the oneration of that cause ; we try to find out that cause, and, having found it the induction IS complete. The discovery, or the finding ou't of that cause, is the invenHon which Whewell speaks of as an INTELLECT. 207 : princiHty of the act o'fWon SL" 2LT"''' inductive inferenpp " « a uu l • requisite m every He says a.^^ 7. o'/^^^^^^^^^^^^ n!w ^ '■; Tv ' ""^ ''' ""^^ ^* ^« ^J^^t this Step of which we now speak the invention of a new conception b vt; in ductive inference, is so generally overlooked that it halwl" been noticed by preceding philosophers " Th« fnl ^ tation from Whewell ^.^^^Z fa'ht' -^Xf Id It will be seen to be in accordance with that which wl' have presented, while it will still farther bring out or explilte Z real process of induction. After the wLs first qtfo d fr^^^^ this distinguished philosopher, he proceeds to say ^^ We Z a standard, and measure the facts bv i^ • nn7 v,- , ^7*"^ e«uaple, that a body left to itself will move on Sraltoti velocly not because our senses ever diselosed to us a bjf doing lus, but because (taking this as onr ideally we flS that all actual cases are intelligible and explicablerLlnfof the conceptron of force, causing change and motion Td ef erted by surrounding bodies. In lite manner, wc s'ee wt stnkmg each other, and thus moving and stoppik acdS and ret^rdmg each other ; but in .-11 this we do no ZZ bf ■8 a cre8.ion of the mmd brought in among the facts in order to convert their apparent confusion into orier,-2 Leminl This the conception of mommlnm gained and lost does • Tnd in by induction, some conception is introduced, some idea is app led as the means of binding together the facts, and tba producing the truth." In these examples given by Whewdl orany other example .bat may be adducedahe coLe^^r^ /««,., the conception of momentum, or an; other eonceptlf 208 INTELLECT. UH tho cfvse may be, is just tho supposed cause of which we have uH alon- spoken, to whicli the mind is led, on the presence of tho observed cases, and which having been discovered, or in- vented, as Whewell expresses it, is tho induction or generaliza- tion in the particular ctuso. The subject is still furtlier illustrated by Whewell. « Hence," ho says, " iu every inference by induc- tion, there is somp conception superinduced upon the facts ; and we may henceforth conceive this to bo the peculiar import of the term mdnction. I am not to be understood as asserting that the term was originally or anciently employed with this notion of its meaning, for tha pccvHor feature jmt pointed out in induction, has generally been overlooked. This appears by the accounts generally given of induction. " luduction " says Aristotle, "is when by means of one extreme term y:o infer the other extreme term to be true of tho middle term." The case which WheweU takes to illustrate his meaning, as to what really takes place in induction, and to shew the imperfection of Aristotle 8 view, is the elliptical motion of the planets round the sun. It uas Kepler who deteimined this motion of the planets. The case then stands thus,-Certain phenomena are obsei-ved :n certain of the planets, or in connexion with their motions. How shall we account for these ? There is some cause for them. Kepler sets himself to account for them-to discover the cause. After long and laborious attempts Kei)le at last hit upon elliptical motion as the cause; tlmt cause accounted for the peculiarities in the motion of these planets Jiut what was true of these planets was true of all the i)lanets and the elliptical motion oi the planets roun.l the sun was the induction or generalization. Now, what have we here ? We have the particulars respecting certain of the planets These planets are Mercury, Venus, Mars. Some cause must be found to account for the peculiar phenomena which thev exhibit That cause is found in their elliptical motion round the sun" iiut the cause that determines the phenomena in the case of these planets, determines the same phenomena in the case of tne other planets; the mind at once refers the law which is true of these to all the planets ; the iuforence is geueralizeil • INTfiLLECr. 209 the invented conception becomes t. hiw \r Aristotle,- by meaJs of one extrem Ln, J' ""'''^^'"^ *" Ma., we infer the other ex rerZ eZticd™?' ^'"'^' true of the middle term, planets. As' t^Z C'm '^ clescnbe elliptical orbits roun.l the sun and as wTl '. "'"' to ^ chlacteri j;lf;:^^^^^^^^^^ of them are characterized we ^et fh. Jn^ . ^ ""'' ^">^ »U planets „,„vo i„ e,„>;»"Za 1^1 it " ""*™" *»' Mercury Ven„s, Mors = all the planets: E .pticd motion is the motion ofMoreury, Venua Ma™- EIhl.t.caI mot,o„ i, tlie motion of all the plane™ ' Now, Whowcll remarks upon this that "A,.:.t « , taattentior, enti.ly to the e'videnee'of I int n^ TZ :t:r,:rr:pthLht:?t;r„''"' 't "^^ "-" t.on of ellipses, wh,eh is the other extreme of the sy iSsm ? the statement of the svlloiHsm i, tl,„ ; i . ' ' l\r. 1 u , ■^J'"°g'8m 13 the important step m science We know how long Kepler laboured, how hard he fo^.I,/ 1 many devices he tried, before he hit ipon this It 2 ^t 7 t e? T ^^ "J^"'"" """^ ■""er second extern t^' ^peciT.^ „rob::ur^";rh:"^j::rrj ?^ pren» that .Mar. does describet\,teTo„:dTs:n-h: * That cannot be in the inductive syllogism, l.„t in the syllogism snbse- quent to tlio induction, and evinclnntU truth obtained. O '^Jti^-* '2W IN'I'KLM'X"!'. does not hesitate to guess, at least, that in this respect ho might convert tha other premiss, and assert that 'All planets do what Mars does,' But the main business was, the inventing and verifying the proposition respecting the ellipse. The in- vention of the conception was the great step in the discovery; the verification of the proposition was the great step in the proof oi the discovery." The invention of this extreme term, then, according to Whewell, is the grand matter in induction. What is this but the discovery of that cause which we suppose, or rather believe, to be present in every case of an observed phenomenon ? But why do we seek for this cause ? Why are we put upon such an invention ? Obviously to account for the phenomena ob- served. There is the principle of causality— we suppose a cause— we seek for it,— and upon the principle, that like causes will produce like effects, we suppo8e the same cause in the case of the whole class of objects to which the observed instances belong, and generalize the law, or obtain the induction. Whe- well does not seem to take notice of the principle that leads to the invention of the conception, or the ideal case— that demands it. It is just the principle of causality. But what we are concerned with just now is, that the mind is put upon this invention, and that it is not the particulars in any observed phenomenon that form the real ground of our induction, or tho premiss to our inductive inftrence ; it is the principle involved in every generalization, and which is obviously supposed in Whewell's account of the process of induction. Induction is something more, then, than an inference from particulars ; it involves the invention of some conception, according to Whe- well, adequate to account for the special facts of observation ; it is the discovery of a cause. There are cases, indeed, in which the induction does not proccQd any further than the generaliz- ing of a fact or phenomenon, without either a new conception, or the invention or discovery of any new law ; and Whewell' again, does not seem to speak of such cases. But numerous are the cases in which the induction proceeds all this length, and consists in this very invention or discovery, and the gene- INTELLECT 211 «nd s„ch -ike j^r'crSi:^,':^'^"';"^' ^°*»"^' cLemist.,, the induction, are of the oth 'kinS -Tr' '"' sought for, and not tl,e mere phenomena ' ™''"' "" irom this account oflnduction it will' be seen .h»t :> ■ ,u great instrument of science Tt „,-n i, ' '' " ""o still scope for n„oSl Tc^i Zl^V^"^''' "^ invention-ov the concentinn • , ' Whewell calls ourobservation-to thrir™ T'"''™'"' "P°" "'o «>* »f oasc in point the" the ind 7 "'^" """^ '='"'«' "^ «'0 'liscovery of s m »,s ^ , ," ""V''* «'°™'» '» ""o »«", *i» hypothrisTti:';!: r:f .f;r™°"- ="■' or established b, actual ITcuTat^; "C1h^-]f™«. hypothesis or theory nnrl tl,..,.^ • ' ** '^ ^'^^y no actual discover?^' mL^p " "r."' ^'^^^ '''^'^-*-"' stage-waiting for an \2J . ""T' ^'' ^'^ ^^ ^^^' some hypothe^-s '"' '' ^°'' ''^^ establishment of science he woulj h,t .r the v'™/!- *' P''^^"' ^'^'^""'f philosophizing whicl he Jv! Tf™""" '"' """ «>'*» "f •lid not invent but nf J.- 1 '™'"™''"' of inquiry, which he into men's han* h! m -m "'""'"' *" "»"• He put it the roposito;! wh"l"ttad soT"- "^''""«'' " °°' "^ the concealment of wWch ft Ld ' "^ "'™"'«"'M: ""y, in pccted ,0 exist. It *t e mi:dZ:r":" " '""Z™- ;ns',::i^';;rrrtenTt ^--ra:ui: *e mcwoll.-" Philosophy „f the Ifdnrt-v- Q; ' -i ^ ' t ,? iiie ji,cincti\f hciencps, ' vol. ii. p. 328, 212 II. iNTKLLECT. but it was not itself defined to the mind, far less recognised in its true character and importance. Bacon's almost pro- phetic mind was intended by providence, no doubt, for the revolutions it was to effect. The whole aspect of science was to be changed ; and in a few centuries from his time the world was to make more advance than in all tlio ages of the world's history preceding: we behold its effects in that inverted pyramid of inductive discovery, or vast chart of scientific know- ledge, which the philosopher can now draw out, or represent, to himself, and which has been partially done by Whewell— in reference to the sciences, Astronomy and Optics— in his work on the Inductive Sciences. Deduction is generally supposed to be the antithesis of In- duction. And in one point of view it is. It is so, if we have regard only to " the particulars in the sense," and connect our inductive conckisioh with them ; and if we take into account that it is always a new truth that we arrive at in induction, while by deduction it may be a hitherto undeveloped truth' but not a strictly new truth that we obtain. But a stricter analysis will shew to us that so far as the truly mental part of the process in induction is concerned, it is really a case of deduction, and the two are distinguished by the circumstances in which the deduction takes place. In ordinary deduction we have already a general truth or principle to proceed upon, and from which we draw our particular or less general conclusion, and that general truth need not be a principle of the mind, or an intuitive truth. But in induction— in what is truly the deductive part of the process— che general truth from which we reason is a principle of the mind, an intuitive truth. In Ordinary deduction, or what is usually styled deduction, the process is direct; we immediately deduce our conclusion from the general truth or principle. In induction the process is indirect, and besides the mental deductive process there is the application of its result to the given circumstances. The ob- served particulars are the exciting circumstances in which the mental process takes place, but it is truly the mental process which gives us the result, and then that result is applied to INTELLECT. 213 the particulars, and to all similar particulars to tl.o n„«, • pojnt, and to all similar cases. Ther/is a nil proclZT nducc.duponthefactsotob.ervation-acor.ceptiorfl?ndXt conception we are led by the deduction that silently !ukeX1^e ^nourm^nds. There is a cause here. Every 11 t^Z attended by it, effect in all similar oircumstanc s wTat s tl.at cause P We invent a cause, or we discover i^ The u^^reffrt"".^'" ''■ ^'''' ^^"^^ ^'^ '^ ^^^^ ^y unifoim effect, will operate in all similar circumstances in the Bame way : .uch and such is the cause here : we may 7x^00 m all circumstances the same as tho.e now under observitiln and a, , a by the same etiects. This is .he I7u t^^t^^ mveuted cause or pheromenon will be found in all similar circumstances, or will distinguish all similar case« Induction and deduction, then, are not so opposed as at fi«t .ght they may appear. In every inductive pii ess there sc^ duction, and the difference between this and ordinary dlctb^^ IS m the cn-cumstances in which the deduction takes^t e am" the result which it gives. But the peculiarity of tl at Tu Hgam, . not ow.ng to anything peculiar in the deduct on bl^ the pecuharity of one of the terms, it being really Ua tl tlrm T " Tf '" °' *'" """^- ^"* t^- invention this term, this mental creation, is not a part of the inductive principle, though so essential to the inductive proce 7 Thi! ni^ntal ac , creation, or invention, as it really is,'is truly won clerful in Itself. It is in such acts, as it is in the kindred act st:"r«:;:f "' ''T^ r power of onginal mlndst seen. lo give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name" s very much a lied to the act of the philosopher's we have b^en ^nsidenng " How little of Newton's train of thought^ says oTthTi iTfT^^^^f ;."' '' '^'^^''y -^-ested b^, the fa« ot the HppJe I If the apple fall, s. id the discoverer, why should not the moon, the planets, the satellites fall ?" « HowLe we » ^ys Whewell, ''in these cases, (the cases of invented ideas Uo discover such ideas and to judge which will be efficadous i^ lead ng to a scientific combination of our experimental data ? lo tins question we must, in the first place, answer, that the 214 INTELLKCT. first and great instrument by which facts, so observed with a view to the formation of exact knowledge, are combined into so important and permanent truths, is that peculiar sa^-acity which belongs to the genius of a discoverer; and whicb "vvhile It supplies those distinct and appropriate conceptions whicli lead to its success, cannot be limited by rules, oi expressed in definitions." In deduction a siinila.- characteristic of mind is seen in what IS called tlie invention of middle terms, or in the supplying new terms of comparison by which new relations are brought out. This is often akin to the scientific invention of which we have been speaking. Fertility and originality of mind are seen here. It consists in a predication or a statement from which some new relation, doctrine, or view is brought out. The originality of a thought always consists in the middle term, or major premiss of some deductive process, which is the middle term, or major pi-emiss, of that process, although nothing more than itself is stated, and the deduction is not formally made. XV. We have now got ideas. States of mind which we call tliought have been traced or accounted fnv, those primitive ideas which are of such grand and primary importance to all our subsequent knowledge ; and these variously modified and combined according to the laws we have endeavoured to ex- plain, and the principles we have endeavoured to explicate or unfold. All our ideas, we believe, are traceable to the sources we have now pretty thoroughly examined. A little considera- tion will shew that our primitive ideas are the staple of all our ideas— that our other ideas are but modifications or combina- tions of these. This is not to say that our other ideas are not essentially new ideas, distinct and individual, and possessing their own individual value. We believe chemists speak of the basis of a substance, while the substance itself may be very different from- the mere elements which enter into its combina- tion. There is a kind of mental or spiritual chemistry, or process of combination and analysis by which, from the sub- INTELLKCT. 215 stratum of onr primitive ideas, all our other ideas are obtained Pe..onahty, externality, matter, mind-with their serraepo pert:es--space, time, power, number, motion: 7T^eT.v Clements all our purely intelleetual id^as are composed Into hoj many combinations may not these elements be thtwn b^ he laws and principles of which we have given the accrunt ? 2t'Xoir '"^'l^M^"^ -ythey'not present i- I the^nV 'T *^"' ^^'''''^^ S'^''' ^ Classification of a I the ciences according to our elementary ideaa And if tho physical sciences can be classified according to tTeseevex^ot who IS conversant with thought at all must'be awa'e liov luc, or cnaiacte . These form the wide field for the moralist and he theologian. What are the discussions of the Ttud n Zt the statesman concerned with but human interests and human character? What constitutes history but the narrative ofTha^ XTtl T"'- • ^''' ^°^-- ^^« groundwoTl; ,^! ^u tist, 01 the poet s creation ? It need not surprise us that ou^ elementary ideas are so few, or that out of them we can lav such an unlimited variety and multiplicity. It ml serve L 11 ustrate this subject, if we think of the endless combination which the Icttei. of the alphabet may assume. Of Zv manv words . any one language composed, and yet what limit caTwI et to the order m which these may be arranged ? MeTZl been speaking and writing every day and every hour of the dav and wherever there have been human beings who can maintain an intercourse by language-in how many instances have t am words, in the same order, been repeated ? What a vari ty m the human countenance out of a few features-in the hiTman voice from the same orgau-in human disposition with the same essential elements I It seems to be the triumph of Div nc power and wisdom to serve the greatest variety of ends with ' the fewest means. A few laws make up the systL of the uni ve..e; but how endless their modifications ! lo is"t with mind and Its Ideas. The elementary ideas can easily b numbered ;; vi : zr^'' '^t "'^*^ ' ''^^^^ ^»-* >-- - "niveisc for their scopo-that scale the throne of IX-ity^that 216 INTELLECT. wander through eternity-that take in the multiplicity of created objects-maa and his wide variety of interests— that are un- ceasing in their change and fluctuation, these are made up of but a few elements. The laws of identity, similarity, contrast analogy, proportion, and the principles of generalization and deduction, effect all the changes of v hich our simple ideas are susceptible, or add those new ones which are only new as they are seen under new relations, in new compounds, and in con- nexion with new phenomena. A new phenomenon was dis- covered in the discovery by Kepler of the elliptical motion of the planets round the sun, but what new idea was there in this? or the elliptical motion of the plauets was a new idea but It was new only in its connexion, and as a combination of the Ideas of motion and the figure of the ellipse. The atomic theory of Dalton was a new idea in chemistry, and one we believe, which has introduced a new era in chemical science but agam ne only in its application, and as a theor\ ,f science ' for the ideas of which the theory was composed must of course havo been previously possessed. The idea of atoms was not new, It 18 involved in our primitive idea of the divisibility of matter ; but the idea of ultimate atoms, and their chemical affinities and repulsions, was new, and has been admitted into science.* Bishop Butler added a now idea to moral science or rather to that department of theological science which has to do with the evidences of Revealed Religion, when he brought out the analogy of Revealed Religion to the constitution and course of nature; but it was new only in the aew relation de- veloped. It was not new in the fundamental ideas of which the new idea was composed. Every original writer on any subject adds new ideas to the stock already acquired, but no new fun- damental idea, none which may not be resolved into our funda- * The quostion of ultimatu atdiiis was (liscuHseJ even nnioiif;- the ancients, and is not yet sottlotl. DHlton's theory pro- ceeds, or was stated by Dulton himself as prooeedinft upon the Nupposilion of atoms being ultimate. lUit AVhowc. shews that it is enougii for the theory tiiat the atoms bo smaller than the small- est observable i)artieles. The question as to whether atoms are ultimate is the most ctirious and puzzling perhajis in metaphysics, and no one shews more strikingly the limits of our faculties. INTELLECT. 217 ou .t ^ay bo, with lavM. profusion o/embodtt 'ie "T Oision new analogies, new resemblances, new and l^nw^ proporfons; but any really new elemen ary ideas „rO what infinite combinations is not music coLZ 'p T the combinations in eveiy several nldyTbr / v l"!? sure of music consists in the detection of ideas whLZf P««d formerly in other combinatiouV and wh h Z^ us m the new, produce a pleasiiKr recoimil on wbTl !^ ' a stnvnge and delicious seLtiou°or S'^f t i^^'T"" ;.»elf furnishes an illustration what varieVmay^ Protc'cS by a lew elementary sounds. The range of the musidl Zf Ct It IS ,1,!^ I ""■'"■' """ -'""' "f"™^ '' ^ensational- tiat It IS (he fine harmonies that uftect the sense and n„t .I,„ .acas that stiiUe the mind, or impress the tart burwto Zutr" H^""''°"' "" "''"»^' "'"'»'" «- vistas otolh and f«, ling that are opened up-that vanish into the infinite to dehght while they detain, but please most when tL lead us beyond this lower sphei^, and leave us on tie crv margin of the infinite and the eternal. Perhaps the flntt 2 of onr m.nds-of our intelleclual states we mean-is when w„ hardb. know the value and limita of our own thoughI_m,do up of elements so simple, but stretehing into distaSccT^S we cannot measiire-into which we can but gaze. The idea of the Divme Being is one which we cannot'fnlly toke in- a modification merely of our ideas of Beiug, Spirit and be atuibutcs of Spirit: but how vast l-h„w Scomp'hll' -how immeasurable! E..istence, but ^rfAvr^Lc-spi t mdependentof matter,-power, but omnipotent power i-'T^l^ do, but infinite wis,iom,-dumti„n, but eternal .Iraiion™" presence in space, but omnipresence f Matlon,- tio™ rl' It 'T' "' "'"t^"'' composed-of such eombina- lions or modifications are they susceptible-iuto such infinite distances may they stretch. mnniu. >l i 111 Iflii 218 INTKLMOt'T. We Hliiill ndd licro thorn imrte oi' Whowell's chissification of the scioncos IouikUhI unoii ideas, whicli wo omitted before, as not liaviug obtained our niodiliod ideas, the ideas modified by the laws of niind, and the prinoiiiles of generalization and deduction. AVo give the classification now entire, and in Whewell's own words, and it will bo easy to recognise those sciences that are dependent upon our primitive ideas, and those which take their rim from Iho ideas modified by the laws of mind. "1 shall have to speak," says Whewell, "of the ideas which ui-e the foundation of geometry and arithmetic, (and which also regulate all sciences dei)ondiiig upon those, »is astronomy and mechanics,) namely, the ideas of space, time, and niunber. Of the idena which the secondary mechanical sciences (acoustics, op- tics, and thermotics) involve, namely, the ideas of the externality of objects, and of the media by which we i)erceive their qualiti js. " Of the iileas which are the basis of mechanico-chomical, and chemical science ; y>olarity, chemical affinity, and substance ; and the idea oi' .vfmmcfri/, a necessary part of the philosophy of crystallography. " Of tho ideas on which the classificatory sciences pioceed, (mineralogy, botany, and zoology,) namely, the ideas of resem- blance, and of its vs of subsequent s„t«fo„ t Its c,u.M .^ Does not a cause immediately awaken the idea t : ;f : rv- ""' ."--'t °" *= p""4ie of pS ; CO tiguity? As a lauicjile or law of connexion wc have «■ «,at ca„sal„.y, or causation, is the very principle t gZ- a zalton, or cucnmstance in our mind, which lei to gcnC .a afoi Causality is something far more important ar,l "diuentml than contiguity in time Tnd place "^ ' .. i 220 INTELLECT, I'orhiips, we need no other principles or laws of connexion among our ideas, than those by which our ideas originally are produced, or arise in the mind, and are afterwards modified and combined. Causalitij is the grand principle in the formation of our original or primitive ideas ; mid it, with resemblance, analogy, contrast, time and i)lace, which include, of course, contiguity in time and place : these are just the laws mentioned by Hume and Brown. It may certainly be contended that coiifi(/Hif// in time and place is something dilllrent from the simple ideas of time and ploce ; but then is it not a modifica- tion of these ideas, or may it not, as we hinted when considering this law of our ideas, be a phase of the idea of identity, an event or a place being more or less nearly the same, or conkMu- poraneous with another event or place ? Contiguity seems a shade of identity, as there are shades of resemblance, until, as we have seen, we come to contrast itself. At all events, con- tiguity in time and place is but a relation of these ideas'. It contributes, however, to precision, to speak of contiguity or proximity in time and place, and to admit contiguity among the laws of association. The iispects of our ideas, then, in their original jtate, and under the difterent modifications, become the laivs according to which they arise in connexion. The ideas, as they are obtained, seem also to he retained: the same laws which gave us our ideas become the bond of their connexion. The law of resemblance^ fir example, or the susceptibility of the mind to perceive resemblance, not only gives us ideas of re- semblance, but is a bond by which resembling ideas are con- nected in the mind. We not only perceive resemblances, but the presence of one idea has its resembling idea instantaneously associated with if I })erceive a remarkable resemblance be- tween two landscapes or pieces of scenery ; the law of resem- blance enables me to perceive this— there is such a resemblance, and the mind is fitted to perceive it— but the same law insures' upon the presence of the one object, or its idea, the idea of its resemblinij object. When I chance to come upon a landscape bearing a close resemblance t(. one I have seen before, in the INTELLiiCT. 221 order of nature I am first capable of perceiving? or beinL^ struck w,th the resemblance; but again/the prest^ce of ht the other Ihe mind exists in a staf-. of percel/ed resem- viZ^m r: " ' «"-I>^^^^"*y of the mind, besides Tn yitue of winch the presence of the one piece of scenery or its a oa . followed by, or accompanied with, the thought' of til otiiu. Iho one is said to recall or suggest the other- bnf ohviously if the mind could not exist in thf state of a p "cdve" resemblance, there would be no such recalling, no -nch asso ciation or suggestion. The capability of the mind existing in a state of felt resomblanco, as Dr. Brown calls it, is first sup- posed, and then the suggestion, or just the connexion, takes p ace-the connexion is the sngrjestwn. The same with all the other laws of association; they were the aspects under which our Ideas were originally acquired, or laws by which they were modified, but they come to act as connecting links among our thoughts-Identical objects or qualities being thus associated in the mmd, or capable of being associated : so with resemblin.^ olyects, so with contrasted objects, so with all existin- or pei^ ceivable analogies-so with proportion, so with cause and eftect so with contiguity in place and time, or objects, or events con- tiguous or proximate, in place or time. ' The oak or the elm suggests, or has immediately associated wuh it, the oak or the elm which shadowed our father's cotta-e ihe temperature which regaled and imparted health to tie sickly frame under one clime of the earth, recalls the invigora- ting breezes and delightful sun of a clime the sa.ne, thoucTh in a separate and far distant region. On the other hand" the sunny c ime of the south recalls, by the force of contrast, the CO d and ungemal skies of the north. The mind of the tra- veller 18 continually occupied in marking the identity or dis- similarity among the objects or circumstances that meet his eye, or come within his experience. This act of the mind IS not merely a pleasing one, but leads to observations which are the most important to science, and which contribute to the knowledge of laws and manners, to social improvement, and m 222 INTKLLEOT. the infusion of a better principle and spirit into tlie theory and practice of legislation. It is the associating principle which is at work in those connexions which lead to such results. Com- parisons could not be drawn did not this principle furnish the material. Keserabling or contrasted objects, or institutions, are not always present together, so as to admit of the comparison, but this law supplies the place of their actual presence by making them present to the mind. The man of science recalls the observations he has made in other quarters, and they assist him in those he is now making; or the disparity between phenomena gives him the varying or opposite character of these very phenomena, which it is important to mark. A flower may bring home and all its reminiscences to mind, the garden-plot where a similar flower grew, the circumstances in which we last saw it, the feelings or sentiments with which it was associated, or which it awakened. Halleck of New York indites some verses to the memory of Burns on viewing the remains of a rose brought from Alloway Kirk, the scene ol" one of Burns' most striking compositions. This was the suggestion of place, or, as it has been called, contiguity. It is rather the suggestion of place simply, for the rose was brought from the spot itself, and it recalls scenes which are not immediately contiguous, but which have their place, their ideal place, their celebration in the page of the bard, or are connected with his name : — " Wild rose of Alloway, my thanks ! Thou raind'st mo of that aiitmnn noon, When first wo met upon ' the banks And braes of bonnie Doon.' " After some connecting links of thought the writer says,— " I've stood beside the cottage bod, Where the bard-pcasant first drew breath, A straw-thatch'd roof above his head, A straw- wrought couch beneath. " And I have stood beside the pilo, His monument— that tells to heaven Tho liomage of earth's proudest isle To that bard-peasant given." INTKLLECT. 223 Tho pilgrims who are attracted by Burns' fame,- " I'i'P'-f.ns whoso wamlering feet have presserl llie Switzer's sr.ow, the Arab's sand, Or trod the piled loaves of the west, My own green forest land. "All ask tho cottage of his birth, Gaze on the scene.) he loved and snng, And gather feelings not of earth, His fields and streams among. " They linger by tlio Donn's low trees, And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr, And round thy sepulchres, Dumfries, The Poet's tomb is there !" How powerful were the associations of place in Bvron's mi,„) vhen wandeung ami,l the ruins „f R, J „„d ^Z And tee, aga,„, ,t was not contiguity of place, but p ac lii^ The rums were the connecting link „itk ages long g^e Zl and „e o„ „„. h„, ,„„^ ^^^^ ^^^=_^^ wiZ L^C ■og their mcmones on all future ages. The same Zllr connexoo „„, ;„ „,e n,i„d of Gibbon,°whe„, aLT h tins and tall of .hat Empire, whose magnificent monuments he was contemplating. In these instances we have . It • ttn!^ place mingling with those of time, place s^gesttanrmeTl vve nave seen how anahrji, operates on our trains of thought • and tt ,s tho law „fp,^o,.,^,. ^^ j, » «' »';8^. wellTs in « 1 T"'"*' ""'• '""■"^«»1 calcuirt oH G veto tie „ ■."■f r™"* °™ "'"' ""l""™™'' of the artist. ihZ 1, v"°* '"■'^° proportions of a building and with, their fit tag proportions. State to the mathematician r prtircr"?"™'.""' "-^ '"""''^ ^ -"»™S properties have their immediate place in the mind. It is said of Sir Isaac Newton, that he could see the steps in a d mon mitLdtoit T T"T°'"''""'•'^™'P'''"■°"P-°«"&»b- n.ltted to It. A redundancy, or a defect, in colour, a false proper- J. a ti In 224 INTELLECT. tion or a wrong disposition of ligiifc an